Book Review: Great House by Nicole Krauss

Ok, bookworms. I read Great House on my honeymoon - that was the first week of November - and I'm only now figuring out what to say about it. Still figuring, even as I write this. Do the math: that's four months later, people, which does not bode well for my thoughts. I usually finish a book and immediately start singing its praises (or problems, even) to the world, whether they want to listen or not.

But this book took some mulling. Not necessarily a get-under-your-skin and stay-with-you kind of mulling, but an I-really-don't-know-how-I-felt-about-that kind of mulling.

As expected, Krauss' writing style is strong. As with History of Love, there are passages here that leap off the page and stand alone, beautiful in their own right:

"No, I don't harbor any mystical idea about writing, Your Honor, it's work like any other kind of craft; the power of literature, I've always thought, lies in how willful the act of making it is." (p. 18)

"But don't you feel, deep down, that there's something special about you? he asked me, carelessly swinging his legs while down below us swimmers, or perhaps dogs, tried to make their way against the current. No, I whispered, trying to hold back tears, No, I don't, while Daniel Varsky looked at me with a mixture of bewilderment and pity." (p.205)

The characters here, all tied loosely together by their association with an antique writing desk composed of drawers of various sizes, struggle with their human condition: they are imperfect, they are unsure, they are growing old, and dying, and losing their families. These emotions are familiar, and thus, I found that I identified, in some way, with nearly every one of the many characters littering the pages of Great House.

Despite this, however, the novel as a whole lacked the substance to hold it together. Though the lessons to be learned on aging, family, and acceptance are powerful ones, the tie of the desk was not nearly as alluring as I had hoped it might be. I turned the last page of the book expecting more, still waiting for the story to end.

Bottom line: Perhaps the muddled nature of Great House was intentional, for even though this book ranks low for me, I do not doubt Krauss' skill. Maybe I missed something, or maybe I wasn't in the right mindset, or maybe my expectations were just too high after falling head-over-heels for History of Love. But ultimately, Krauss' most recent novel left me slightly confused, waiting for resolution, and still unsure of what I'd read.