Book Review: We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver (Possible Spoilers)

My Review of the Film Adaptation

Eva was a successful businesswoman and author as well as a wife and mother of two children. Now she is estranged from her husband and daughter. Her son Kevin is incarcerated, in the wake of a school shooting, for a series of brutal murders, Eva's world is cold and narrow. Her only real communication with anyone is through letters she writes to her husband, Franklin.

In this epistolary novel, Eva reflects on Kevin's history, starting before conception, leading to his becoming a vicious psychopath. She explores her own culpability in who he became, along with her conflicted relationship with Franklin.

From conception and birth, Eva was unable to bond with Kevin. Ambivalence about motherhood and the changes it would bring to her life, postpartum depression, an unsuccessful attempt to breastfeed, and the exhaustion that goes with comes with a baby who cries incessantly -- these are all normal experiences. Things many women have gone through before becoming basically happy moms who are madly in love with their children. But for Eva, this becomes a slippery slope, and things only become worse.

During her retelling of Kevin's earliest years, I felt trapped in Eva's mind, only able to see things from her perspective, and I suspected she was an unreliable narrator. I could only see things through the filter of Eva's memory, shaped by her own pain, frustration, and rage and by her knowledge of who Kevin became. She saw an infant who cried, not because of colic but because he raged at the world. A newborn who deliberately and vigorously rejected her breast. A toddler who slyly played his parents against one another and refused to be potty trained because he'd be losing a battle against the mother he hated. These perceptions are incredibly warped, not to mention developmentally impossible. Yet the novel drew me so tightly into the confines of Eva's reality that these things seemed quite real. And as Kevin grew into a cold, calculating boy, with an urge to destroy anyone who was capable of feeling real joy or passion, parts of it began to seem believable. Or did it? The line between delusion and reality is blurred here.

Would it have made a difference if Eva had been able to love her son? There is no clear answer. They are caught in a vicious cycle. Her attitude undoubtedly impacts his behavior and view of the world. His behavior triggers her rage and prevents her from bonding with him. This, in turn, deepens his hostility. They are locked in a cruel cycle which we know will end tragically. Nevertheless Eva, who has always relished pushing herself to tackle daunting challenges, works hard at being a conscientious mother.

In a parallel way, Eva and her husband Franklin are trapped in a destructive dance. Franklin is in denial about the fact that his son is deeply troubled. This enrages Eva, who pushes him to see things from her perspective. This only makes Franklin more fiercely protective of Kevin and distrustful of his wife. They have another baby, who becomes "Eva's child," and Franklin keeps their little girl at a distance, adding to the dysfunctional mess.

I didn't find Eva and Franklin to be likeable characters. They struck me as self-absorbed, a bit pedantic, and riddled with prejudices. Eva seldom views people with acceptance and compassion, she tends to view the world with cold detachment, and she maintains a slight sense of intellectual superiority. One of the most chilling and powerful aspects of this novel is the ways in which Eva and Kevin -- despite their animosity -- identify with each other. In her hauntingly sadistic son, Eva sees -- in an exaggerated way -- a mirror of her own dark side.

How much of this is her basic nature and to what degree is her personality painfully mutated by the tragedy she suffered? Again, we only have her perspective in the present, so it's hard to say. I also felt drawn to Eva by the insight and compassion she sometimes feels, her intense intelligence and curiosity about the world, and her love for her husband and daughter. She's a complex character who I couldn't love, or even consistently empathize with, but I certainly couldn't dismiss. And she is a character I will never forget.

This is a dark, miserable story which is likely to make you lose sleep, especially if you're a mother. That goes double if you're the mother of a child with any kind of emotional problems. And it's a brilliant novel. The central characters, and the themes this book explores, are so incredibly rich and multi-layered, it may take me months to sort through all my thoughts about it.

One of the things that makes it so unsettling is that it explores issues experienced -- on a much smaller scale -- by many parents. Difficulty bonding with a child. Raising a kid who isn't the child you expected or wanted. Seeing parts of yourself you reject mirrored in your own children. Disappointment in yourself as a parent and crippling guilt when their lives don't turn out as you'd hoped. These things sound ugly when you say them aloud, but I believe shades of these feelings exist in many "normal," loving parents.

This book also gave me insight into people with personality disorders: antisocial or borderline personalities. Eva seemed to have uncanny insight into the mind of her son, a person who seemed innately incapable of ordinary love, excitement or joy. This left him hollow and driven by rage. It's probably impossible to really see inside the mind of someone like Kevin, but there were moments -- in this novel -- when I felt I was extremely close.

This is a novel that left me feeling ragged. I want to put it out of my mind, and at the same time I don't want to stop thinking about it. I don't want to talk about it, and I'm burning to discuss it with someone. I want to see inside Kevin's and Eva's minds, but it's too unsettling.

Above all, it's a gorgeously written, challenging novel, probably one of the best I've ever read, and it's one of those rare books that shifted my view of people and of the world a little bit. It's definitely one I will never forget.

Have you read this book? If so, what are your thoughts?

Film Review: We Need to Talk About Kevin (Mild Spoilers)

When I was in high school, way back in the dark ages when Ronald Reagan was serving his first term in office, I read Rage by Stephen King. It's a dark, wonderful novella about a young teen acting out his violent urges in the classroom. I thought it was a clever, unique idea. Eerily believable, but safely outside the bounds of reality.

Much later, when I'd become the mother of two young kids -- one of whom was in school -- we all heard the news of the killings in Columbine, and our world changed. It was the first of many such incidents which left our country scrambling for answers. How does a child become a seemingly remorseless killer? The media has rounded up the usual suspects, everything from bad parenting to an overabundance of violent video games and heavy metal music. In our eagerness to wrap our minds around something that baffles and terrifies us, we clutch at every possible explanation.

Unsurprisingly, grappling with the tragedy of school shootings has become part of the zeitgeist of our time, reflected in various novels and movies. Among the most recent is Lynne Ramsay's We Need to Talk About Kevin, adapted from the novel of the same title by Lionel Shriver.

This film tells its story from the perspective of Eva Khatchadourian (Tilda Swinton), mother of Kevin, a high school student who, at age 15, took the lives of some of his classmates. Treated as a pariah by the community and in greatly reduced financial circumstances, Eva accepts a job with a small travel agency. As she goes through her quotidian routines, she is treated with rage or contempt everywhere she goes. Even a simple trip to the grocery store becomes a humiliating ordeal.

The story we see on screen is almost a stream of consciousness, shifting back and forth in time. We see her in the present, going through the motions of living and enduring silent visits with Kevin in the juvenile detention facility. We catch glimpses of happier times, before she and her husband had children, snippets of the incident at the high school, which crushed so many lives, and a jumble of memories of her life with Kevin, from conception through adolescence. Although Eva says little about what is going through her mind, I sense that she's reliving the past, remembering Kevin as a disturbed boy, and wondering whether she, in some way, is to blame.

Eva appears to have been ambivalent about pregnancy and new motherhood. Kevin's infancy was difficult -- he seems to have had colic and cried constantly. We get the impression that, because of all this, Eva had a great deal of difficulty bonding with her son. Are we meant to believe this contributed to Kevin's blossoming sociopathy? 

As a small child, Kevin develops atypically, showing what might be interpreted as signs of autism -- he doesn't talk, doesn't respond to attempts to engage him in play, has low muscle tone, and is very late potty training. Of course, people on the autism spectrum don't tend to be sociopathic. And even from a tender age, we see something dark and unnerving in Kevin. Eva sometimes responds badly to his behavior, locking them both in a vicious cycle.

Eva's husband Franklin (John C. Reilly), who plays a disappointingly small role in this film, seems to bond easily with Kevin. We see Kevin deliberately cultivate that while treating his mother with contempt -- artfully playing his parents against each other. And as Kevin grows from a scary kid to a dangerous teenager, Franklin remains solidly in denial. (Which doesn't explain, to my satisfaction, why Eva didn't insist on getting the child professional help. Is there a part of her that's in denial too? Is she hobbled by her own guilt? But I digress.)

It's easy to see why this movie received so much critical acclaim. Tilda Swinton was magnificent -- her portrayal of Eva, a woman whose world has constricted tightly around her leaving her with little but grief and regret, is harrowing. While I didn't find her a particularly likeable character, she earned my empathy and respect. Ezra Miller's performance, as the adolescent Kevin, is chilling. He is a young actor to watch.

I found the abrupt shifts in time a bit confusing but incredibly effective. I felt like I was seeing the world through Eva's mind, constantly churning with memories, regrets, and disturbing flashbacks. This was enhanced by skillful cinematography and glimpses of stillness and silence at just the right moments.

The movie left me with plenty of questions. Here is one. The story is told from Eva's point of view; to what degree are her memories skewed? When Kevin was a small child, we see a deliberate maliciousness in his refusal to respond to her efforts to help him develop normally. Was this real? Or was this a product of her imagination, addled with weariness and frustration? Did Kevin actually coldly play his parents against each other as we see him doing on screen? Or did Eva's difficult emotions at that time skew her memories? Was Franklin really as frustratingly oblivious to Kevin's problems as she remembers? Is her perception that nearly everyone treats her with hostility accurate? Or is she, in some sense, an unreliable narrator?

This movie is incredibly disturbing, especially to a viewer who happens to be a mom. It's also thought-provoking. It's likely to leave viewers wrestling with questions about what triggers sociopathy in children. What causes evil to grow where we expect to see only innocence? What role, if any, do the parents play in this? Do we scapegoat the parents of seriously disturbed youngsters? None of us are perfect parents (believe me), but people find it surprisingly easy to cast the first stone. Maybe that makes people feel safe. If the parents of evil or seriously disturbed youngsters are horrible people, then what's happening to them won't touch us. We're good people. Our children will turn out O.K. 

If only life were so simple.

We Need to Talk About Kevin is an impressive film. A very visual style of storytelling, which lets us into Eva's world while wisely not revealing too much, outstanding acting and direction, and artful cinematography -- along with difficult and timely themes -- make this movie incredibly memorable. 

Do I recommend it? Absolutely. Will I ever watch it again? Hell no. I am reading the novel though, hoping for more insight into these characters. Because that's just the kind of masochist I am.

Rating: (4.5/5)

Cherished Favorite	Excellent Film	Good Movie	Meh	Definitely Not For Me

Book Review: Boy A by Jonathan Trigell

This is probably the most painful book I've ever read. It's the only novel I remember making me feel physically sick at times. Not because it was gory or deliberately calibrated for shock value. It wasn't. It was just so vivid, heart-wrenching and raw.

This might not sound like a glowing recommendation for a book I'm giving a rare 5-star review. But honestly, even after having much of the story "spoiled" by seeing the excellent film adaptation, I found this so compelling I didn't want to put it aside. The story was well-crafted, the writing gorgeous, and the characters and story impossible to get out from under my skin. I was torn between the painful feelings the book evoked and wanting to focus on the words and savor the rich, beautiful writing.

Boy A, who is never named, grows up in a part of England that seems to have abandoned hope. His father seems inexplicably estranged from him and his mum, he doesn't fare well in school, and he is the constant target of bullies. He finally finds a sense of safety, and his first experience with friendship, when he meets Boy B, who is clearly disturbed and harboring a volatile streak of rage.

Boy B is an expert at adapting to survive. He adopts the posture and attitude he needs to hold his own on the street, amid gangsters and bullies. Later, in prison, Boy B will learn a new demeanor and attitude, evolving as many times as he needs to in order to stay alive. On the streets of their hometown, Boy A learns a few survival skills from Boy B. They stop bothering to show up at school -- it's just as well; the teachers have clearly long since given up on them. They live in the shadows, lurking under bridges, in an abandoned park, and in other secret places where they feel safe and alive.

Later, after being convicted of a brutal crime, loathed by shocked and grieving citizens and exploited by the press, the two boys live parallel lives in correctional institutions. Ironically, it is here that we see their budding potential. Unsuspected reservoirs of strength and perseverance. Intelligence that their families and teachers never suspected. We begin to wonder if they are redeemable, and if they might finally get the chance their childhoods denied them.

As a 24-year-old, Boy A is released. Guided by his mentor, Terry, who has been his lifeline throughout his years of incarceration, he christens himself "Jack" and begins a new life under his new identity.

Two threads run throughout this book. In the first, we see the two boys' childhood experiences and their lives while incarcerated. There are shifts in time, and the author artfully doesn't let us learn the full truth about what happened on the day of the crime until the novel has nearly ended. So the reader suspends judgment, waits to hear all the facts before jumping to conclusions, and keeps an open heart. This is a benefit kids like Boy A and Boy B rarely get in real life.

In the second thread, Jack builds his new life.The author does an excellent job of showing how Jack is overwhelmed by the real world and quotidian life at first:

He realizes ‘wide world’ is not just an expression. Streets are broad, houses high, horizons unimaginably vast, even corner shops are commodious. Big dens of pop and videos, fags and beer. The trees are greener close up, the walls are redder, the windows more see-through. He wants to tell Terry all of this, and more. He wants to tell him how great wheely bins are, how every house should have a name like the one back there did, how telephone wires drape like bunting. He wants to shake Terry’s hand with thanks and hug him with excitement and have Terry hold him tight to quell the fear.

And:

She smiles broadly when she looks at Jack’s again. But he flicks his gaze away to his feet. She dizzies him. Jack’s not exactly well versed in flirting. There were long years when the only women he saw were a few prison teachers. Some didn’t bother to contain their loathing. ‘So when are you going to take me out for a drink, Jack?’ She’s joking but she means it too. Jack is stumped, stunned; he feels his worldly ignorance around his neck like the corpse of an albatross. Its huge wingspan is knocking over the furniture. He’s not ready for this yet.

However Jack savors the small privileges of freedom, earning a salary, meeting friends, and falling in love.

Just for an instant, before they go in, Jack looks up at the night sky and is struck by the unreality of it all. This feels like another world, another lifetime. A cool late summer’s breeze blows him the perfume of a beautiful black girl who’s one place in front. He’s with his friend Chris and his new friend Steve the mechanic. He has drunk tequila, and told people his favourite film; it’s The Blues Brothers. He didn’t know that until tonight. And inside this club, this wide-windowed warehouse, is the girl who maybe, just maybe, he could love. Jack is torn between bitterness, that he has been deprived of all this for so long, and feeling that this moment has made every other moment worth while.

Other threads are woven in, here and there. We briefly see the story through the eyes of Boy A's parents, Terry, Terry's son, and Jack's new girlfriend, Michelle. We see the little events set in motion that -- bit by bit -- destroy each character's life. The character studies and intermingled stories are magnificent.

This is a story in which innocence and evil sit side by side and often seem flipped around. Children are convicted of horrible deeds. Do we loathe them more because they seem capable of such atrocities at such a tender age, or does that predispose us to forgive them and want them to find redemption? The Juvenile Detention Center is, ironically, more brutal than the adult prison where Boy A is later sent. Jack has experienced -- and presumably committed -- more brutality in his 24 years than most people do in a lifetime, yet when released into the real world, he seems inexperienced, naive, and surprisingly open-hearted. This juxtaposition and reversal of depravity and innocence run throughout the novel, keeping us unsettled, making us think. And this author has the rare gift of making us feel empathy and loathing for the same characters, which is unnerving, painful, and enlightening.

The novel is also an indictment of the process of trial-by-media that contaminates the justice system. And it looks at the arbitrary bits and pieces of observations, feelings, and prejudices on which people base judgments.

His teacher, Mrs Johnston, née Grey, disillusioned and going through divorce, thought him lazy like his left eye. She noticed that he always seemed to be dirty, and looked like he’d been fighting. Other children told on him, even some of her nicest girls. There could be no smoke without fire. Besides, he had the same startling blue irises as her filthy, philandering fuck of a husband. Though she neglected to mention this last point at the trial.

The most harrowing thing about the novel, for me, was its study of the many ways children are damaged, by society, by adults, and by each other. I suspect I'll be thinking about this book for years, and this is the thing that's likely to stick with me the most sharply.

I have plenty of other thoughts about this novel I'd like to discuss, but I am trying to avoid spoilers. I may include some of these in a separate post. Since I finished reading Boy A, a few hours ago, I have been anxious to talk to someone about it. If anyone has read this novel, or would like to, are you interested in a read-long or discussion?

Other Reviews of Boy A:

• Notes of a Book Dreamer
• Bart's Bookshelf
• The 3 Rs -- Reading, Ranting & Recipes (Now Jasmine Tea & Jiaozi)

Rating: 5/5

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Film Review: Boy A

Notes: This film is based on the novel Boy A by Jonathan Trigell. This review contains minor spoilers.

"Jack" (Andrew Garfield) -- formerly known as Eric Wilson -- is a young man, newly released from prison, seeking a fresh start with a new identity. As a child, he participated in a heinous crime. He must quickly learn to be an adult and function in the world. He is guided by "Uncle Terry" (Peter Mullen), who has devoted his life to mentoring troubled youth. Terry is compassionate, supportive, and optimistic; he is also a problem drinker who has been estranged from his own son.

The movie follows two parallel story lines. In one, we see Eric as a lonely, estranged child whose parents are emotionally paralyzed by his mother's illness. He is unsuccessful in school, friendless, and a target for bullies. When he meets a troubled boy named Philip Craig (Taylor Doherty), who has a chilling tendency toward sociopathic rage, they quickly form a close bond.  In the other story line, we see the adult Jack embarking on his new life, with all its successes and missteps.

In some ways, Jack -- whose childhood was cut short by his incarceration -- still seems like a young kid. He appears innocent, kind, and socially awkward, quickly winning the viewer's affection and empathy before we know anything about his past.  This guides us in the direction the film-maker wants us to go. When the story of Jack's past begins to unfold, we have already formed a bond with this character. Even as we learn the darker aspects of his story, we care for him, trust him, and root for him to succeed. This is a reversal of what Jack faces if his identity is revealed. The public has already seen "Boy A" in the courtroom, a child who committed an incomprehensible atrocity. If that becomes known, no one will look past that, seeing the man he has become.

Throughout the course of the film, Jack reveals courage, loyalty, and a capacity for love. He soon finds a new friend, Chris (Shaun Evans) and an affectionate, compassionate young woman, Michelle (Katie Lyons). However, as he finds himself falling in love for the first time, it becomes increasingly difficult to hide the truth. 

Boy A is one of those films that -- for me -- is hard to leave behind. This story is told onscreen with lifelike realism, and Jack and Michelle are so young and utterly likeable. Terry, as the dedicated, caring, and flawed rehabilitation worker, seeking validation for himself -- and perhaps redemption for his damaged relationship with his own son -- through his work, is particularly memorable. I'll admit there was a moment when I felt a little manipulated by the movie. Nevertheless, I found it heart-wrenching, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about the story and characters.

This film offers excellent writing, acting, and direction. Andrew Garfield stands out. I saw and liked him in The Social Network and Never Let Me Go, but I thought this performance, by far, exceeded the others. The imagery, created by camera angles and the way shots were framed, also helped draw me more deeply into the story and the lives of its characters.

In ways this is a challenging movie. It asks us to wrestle with difficult questions. Are some crimes, regardless of the mitigating circumstances, unforgivable? Even if the perpetrator was a child? Is it ever just to incarcerate a child? If a criminal is capable of change, does he necessarily deserve a second chance? Can a good deed balance out or erase a bad deed? And on another level, how does a person glean his sense of identity? Is it comprised of how he sees himself or who others believe he is?  

Boy A asks us to explore these questions without providing all the facts. We are left with unanswered questions about the young protagonist. First and foremost, what exactly was his role in the crime? We never see exactly what happened and who did the deed. What motivated young Eric to be involved in the incident for which he was condemned? Was it loyalty? Fear? Cowardice? In the gaps between the events of this movie, there are shadowy areas that leave us wondering.

The result is a movie that is thought-provoking as well as emotionally wrenching. I suspect it will continue to stick with me, provoking uneasy thoughts and feelings, for a long time.

Rating: (4.5/5)

Cherished Favorite	Excellent Film	Good Movie	Meh	Definitely Not For Me