Book Review: The Flying Troutmans (without spoilers)

[Author's Note: When I say without spoilers, what I mean is that I won't disclose anything you wouldn't have learned from reading the first five pages of the book - because, really, who can commit to a book at the bookstore or the library without reading a few pages to get the feel of it? I'd go as far as saying everything I've mentioned is also contained in the bookflap, but I don't think I ever actually read the bookflap; I read the review in Bookmarks magazine and searched it out. So: if you are one of those strange fanatics who won't read anything other than the title, then run far, far away from this post. Also - Kim, stop reading here and just go read the book already.]
I finished Miriam Toews’s truly excellent The Flying Troutmans in one sitting. Okay, actually, technically I finished it in three sittings, but it really wasn’t my fault. The first time I picked the book up, I had just snuggled into bed, opened the hardcover with that pleasing little library duskjacket crinkle, read a few lines and wanted immediately to stay up the entire night through to finish it off. I didn’t even care that I had work in the morning. I mean, wham! Straight from the first page you have a girl-next-door type who is funny and witty and clearly intelligent, but bumped and bruised by life (she was just dumped in Paris by her “moody, adjective-hating” boyfriend – and not just dumped but dumped for a new life in an ashram. Sucks, dude.), who was called home by her niece – literally –because her brother got in trouble for writing x-rated stories at school and throwing hatchets into the neighbor’s yard and this niece – who is 11 going on 29, by the way – is trying to hold it all together by impersonating her mom over the phone, as necessary, because – oh by the way – her mom is losing her shit. Again. Phew! Really, I would throw some more words in there – perhaps about how the 11-going-on-29-year-old niece just collapses against her aunt at the airport, sobbing, because Hellooo the cavalry! and somehow all the weirdness just feels right, feels true – but there are only so many words that can describe the emotional impact and immediate draw of the story. So I’ll stop.

I stopped then, too (oh, okay, it was 20 pages later before I could tear my eyes away from the pages). I had a decision to make. I could keep reading….or, I could save the book for my (then) upcoming flight to Philadelphia. Decisions, decisions. Those of you who read know there’s nothing worse than being stuck on a flight with a bad book. I had found one that wasn’t just good, it was can’t-suck-it-down-fast-enough kind of good. Could I hold off for three weeks for such a sure win? Turns out I could.

I saved the book for the plane and pulled it out before the wheels were even properly stowed. I would have finished it, too, if the plane hadn’t have landed. Silly landings. (Dear Travel Gods: I am TOTALLY KIDDING. Landings are GOOD! Great even!) So I didn’t get to finish Troutmans until later. But that all totally counts as one sitting, right?

Everyone keeps asking me what it is that got me. I have to say, for a book that I’m obviously crazy about, it’s a tough question to answer. The voice, obviously. I can’t enjoy a book if I’m not crazy about how you’re telling it. I can read a book with a dry, flat voice, but I won’t enjoy it (Jeffrey Lent and Cormac McCarthy, I’m looking at you). So there was voice. In fact, the voice might have been the only constant throughout the book, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. The story kept moving, just fast enough to keep you interested, but slow enough that you felt like you were moving around with the characters and their lives instead of chasing (or worse, trudging along) after them. The concept – Cool Aunt puts her sister in a home and takes the kids on a road trip to find their estranged father – might not have been the most innovative plot, but the characters were new and crazy and had enough flash and sizzle to make it work in a really good way. The confines of the car trip give you enough time with each of them to learn slowly who they are (and aren’t); why her niece is a mad scientist art student with a penchant for narrating her every move, and why her nephew retreats into his hoodie and carves cryptic messages onto the dash and is desperately in love with a CNN news anchor. The stops and interruptions along the way change, naturally, but the constant confine of the car was such a wonderful tool to help examine this haphazard family. I loved how just when you thought you had one of them pinned, something would happen and their characterization would be flipped, making you wonder and reassess just who he or she was. (Someone pinged me the other day about not like the anti-heroine Becky Sharp from Vanity Fair and this is why: I love me some shades of grey. If the character isn’t complicated, I can’t get interested.) Fittingly, the complicated history between Cool Aunt and Crazy Mom is revealed only in glimpses, and you never get the entire story of what – if anything – “caused” the catalyst of the novel. I found the flashbacks just tantalizing enough to layer the story, but subtle enough to avoid the chick lit label. And somehow, none of the diversions, side stories, explanations, or other happenings in the novel tripped over any of the others. Not once was I jarred out of the novel or irritated with the author’s choice. That doesn’t happen to me that often.

Most of all, I love that Toews proves that a quick and fun read doesn’t necessarily limit your choices to bodice ripping beach reads or formulaic courtroom dramas. Troutmans was minimalist, but in a way you wouldn’t notice until you’re disappointed because the story has ended. Sometimes smart women don’t need 600 pages of words, words, and more words to get a powerful and poignant story across. I’m not quite personally acquainted with the idea, but I have heard it’s possible.

Tags: book reviews, Flying Troutmans, literature, Miriam Toews