Saturday, February 23, 2019

Rosemary's Baby

Rosemary's Baby
by Ira Levin


Blurb:
Rosemary and Guy Woodhouse, an ordinary young couple, settle into a New York City apartment, unaware that the elderly neighbors and their bizarre group of friends have taken a disturbing interest in them. But by the time Rosemary discovers the horrifying truth, it may be far too late!

My Reaction (with SPOILERS!):
I decided to read Rosemary's Baby for a couple of reasons. First, I'd enjoyed the movie and was interested in seeing how it might differ from the book. Second, my youngest sister and I were talking about it, and she mentioned that the sequel was... well, not quite as good (to put it kindly), and I was intrigued. It just made sense to read them both in order.

If you're even remotely interested in the genre, Rosemary's Baby is a great read-- a confirmed classic-- evocative of its time, creepy, and deeply unsettling. However, if you've already seen the 1960's film adaptation (as so many of us have), you're not in for many surprises when you read the book. This has to be one of the most faithful adaptions I've ever come across-- word for word, in many instances.

There were only three differences that really caught my attention, and I'm not even certain that one of them is a difference, or if I'm merely not remembering correctly. First, Minnie's accent is described in the book as Midwestern, but in the film the character has an unmistakable New York accent. Second, Rosemary takes a brief trip to a cabin in the book, but I don't recall that happening in the movie (though I may just have forgotten it). And third, the ending is more drawn out and explicit in the book than in the film.

This is one of those instances where the film may actually be better than the book, but it's difficult to judge, since I came to the book already knowing the story. Still, I think the fact that the baby is never shown in the film makes it a bit stronger, and the ending just seems faster-paced and more streamlined than in the book. However, a positive of the book is that we get a little of Rosemary's internal monologue as she makes her decision. The gist of her decision is obvious in the film, I think, but the book leaves no doubt at all about the specifics of how she reaches that decision.

One thing that's blatantly obvious in the movie but is somehow even more blatantly obvious in the book (maybe because there's simply more time for it all to sink in, since it takes longer to read than to watch) is just how awful Guy (Rosemary's husband) is and the profundity of his betrayal of her trust.  (I mean, yeah, that was very clear in the movie, as I've said, but I think it hits even harder when you're reading the book.)

Rosemary is betrayed repeatedly throughout the book, and if the thought of being the unwitting (and unwilling) vessel for the literal spawn of Satan isn't the kind of thing to give you the shivers, it's certainly terrifying to imagine being so isolated and helpless-- to have everyone around you working together to deceive and use you.

4.75 stars (rounded up).

Wednesday, February 6, 2019

The Perfect Neighbors

The Perfect Neighbors
by Sarah Pekkanen


Blurb:
Perfect Neighbors takes us into the homes of an idyllic suburban neighborhood where we discover the burning secrets hiding just below the surface. 
Bucolic Newport Cove, where spontaneous block parties occur on balmy nights and all of the streets are named for flowers, is proud of its distinction of being named one the top twenty safest neighborhoods in the US.
It’s also one of the most secret-filled.
Kellie Scott has just returned to work after a decade of being a stay-at-home mom. She’s adjusting to high heels, scrambling to cook dinner for her family after a day at the office—and soaking in the dangerous attention of a very handsome, very married male colleague. Kellie’s neighbor Susan Barrett begins every day with fresh resolutions: she won’t eat any carbs. She’ll go to bed at a reasonable hour. And she’ll stop stalking her ex-husband and his new girlfriend. Gigi Kennedy seems to have it all together—except her teenage daughter has turned into a hostile stranger and her husband is running for Congress, which means her old skeletons are in danger of being brought into the light. 
Then a new family moves to this quiet, tree-lined cul-de-sac. Tessa Campbell seems friendly enough to the other mothers, if a bit reserved. Then the neighbors notice that no one is ever invited to Tessa’s house. And soon, it becomes clear Tessa is hiding the biggest secret of all.

My Reaction:
The Perfect Neighbors reminded me of Desperate Housewives, but with less of whatever it was that made (the earlier seasons of) Desperate Housewives entertaining. It's not as quirky or funny as Desperate Housewives, and I think that's what was missing. It's more realistic, which might actually be an improvement, depending on what you're after.

Yes, each woman has a secret, but most of them are fairly clichéd, and their stories unfold much as you'd predict. Tessa's secret is more mysterious than the others', but even it isn't difficult to guess, after a certain point.

Though rather predictable, the novel is still perfectly readable. This is the literary equivalent of the typical prime-time soap/drama. You don't have to concentrate very sharply to keep up with the story, but there's some emotional depth to it.

I don't read this genre (slightly gritty chick lit?) very often and don't expect that will change, but it's a decent read, if your expectations aren't too high. It took a while for the characters to become reasonably distinct in my mind, but by the end, I liked Susan. Tessa and Kellie were just "meh", and Gigi... Well, see the section below for that. (That's right; Gigi gets her own section.)

Overall, I wasn't enthralled, but it kept me reasonably entertained. My most honest review would be 2.5 stars, but since half-stars aren't permitted, I'm rounding up to three.


Spoilery Nit-Picks:
I really didn't care for Gigi (or her part of the novel) at all. First, her main concern is "oh no, my teenage daughter is acting like a stereotypical teenager, and I'm afraid we'll never be friends again, even after she inevitably ages and matures"-- which, I'm sorry, I found painfully dull to read about. (Spoiler alert: Her rather bratty daughter is already behaving better by the end of the book, mere months after her brattiness began. So that was a compelling storyline...)

Then there's the side-plot of Gigi's story, which is that her husband is running for Congress. He's intended to be a nice, sympathetic character in a typical modern novel, so obviously this means he's a democrat. ...Fine, have it your way. (But yes, predictable!)

I just love it when a character is a politician (or has political aspirations), because we are treated to gems like this: "I didn't expect to spend hours talking to people who think Obama is an illegal immigrant. The other day I had to explain the concept of global warming to someone..." Oh, and this: "He supported raising the minimum wage-- one of Gigi's pet causes-- and he believed in a woman's right to choose, another one of her priorities." Just... I cringe. Why is this even in the book? It feels totally out of place, in my ever-so-humble opinion.

I do wonder what kind of magical, fairy-tale democrat Joe's going to be, though, because one of his neighbors/friends half-jokingly asks him to "just give us a tax break". (Ooh, something tells me she's in for a disappointment.)

Did I mention that Gigi likes to smoke the occasional joint? And that she convinces the hubster to partake "for old times' sake" (and because, apparently, he "needed this" to alleviate his stress)? It's clearly illegal wherever/whenever they are-- and he's currently running for CONGRESS, y'all-- but sure, light that bad boy up! "She wondered what the voters would say if they knew that Joe had smoked pot in college. ... Let the campaign photographer get a glimpse of this, Gigi thought as she put the joint between her lips." (Insert gratuitous eye-roll here!)

Gigi's secret skeleton-closet is pretty full, what with the marijuana, shrooms, and an old shop-lifting habit (not to mention an abortion). For someone with some seriously questionable behaviors of her own, she manages to be pretty self-righteous, though. (She's "certain" that someone is ID'd on the basis of their race, for instance, and she uses that air-tight "certainty" to justify one of her shop-lifting offenses.)

Look, I'll just be honest: I don't like Gigi. Thank goodness she wasn't the primary focus of the novel!