Lioness by Emily Perkins

Bjørn reviews Lioness, a literary fiction novel by Emily Perkins.

From humble beginnings, Therese has let herself grow used to a life of luxury after marrying into an empire-building family. But when rumours of corruption gather around her husband’s latest development, the social opprobrium is shocking, the fallout swift, and Therese begins to look at her privileged and insular world with new eyes.

In the flat below Therese, something else is brewing. Her neighbour Claire believes she’s discovered the secret to living with freedom and authenticity, freeing herself from the mundanity of domesticity. Therese finds herself enchanted by the lure of the permissive zone Claire creates in her apartment – a place of ecstatic release.

All too quickly, Therese is forced to confront herself and her choices – just how did she become this person? And what exactly should she do about it?

“I wanted these things to tell me who I was, to give me absolution and courage too. Could a cashmere throw do that, a faux-fur cushion, the jumbo corduroy beanbag in nostalgic colours?”

Sometimes I read books because the literary magazines give them good/interesting reviews, or because I read an interview with the author, and think – whoa. I have to check this one out. I start reading. I keep going. And keep going. I keep waiting for the bit that will blow me away, the bit that made the author a genius and the book an instant classic. This is how I suffered through My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh and White Teeth by Zadie Smith. (Disclaimer: while I downloaded the sample of My Struggle by Karl Ove Knausgård, I have, so far, not felt in need of punishment that severe.)

Enter: Lioness.

I can’t remember whom to blame for this one. LitHub? Electric Lit? NY Times? The Guardian? Anyway, I picked the book either because of an interview or a review that made it sound like it would be right up my alley. I thought it would be closer to Helen Hoang than Ottessa Moshfegh, as in, that there would be a plot, characters I would care about, twists and turns, etc. I forgot the important bit. As in, the ‘important’ bit. Because Lioness is, for a reason I can’t remember, important.

One of the biggest hints you get that this isn’t some *shudders* genre novel is when Therese’s car is about to run out of gas, but, as she thinks, it always says that when there is still enough. She then drives around town all day. I was…considering biting my fingernails as I waited to find out where her car would refuse to go on. At the worst possible time and place, obviously. Reader, she drove on fumes all day. In a genre book, this would be called sloppy editing. But in literary fiction, it is a metaphor. For what? One has to be smarter than I to know.

What is the point of Claire’s revelation about the dream with the gun to her head? I don’t know. Why does Therese think of how she’ll feel years later, watching the footage of her own speech? I don’t know. Having forgotten I was reading an important book, I expected murder, a hidden clue… well. Not to give too many spoilers, I should have known better. Why is Claire so random? As chaos to Therese’s organisation, yin-yang style? Perhaps? When Therese FARTS it proves that she can’t arrange everything perfectly. Or not. IDK LOL.

What is the story behind Atalanta’s story that we (the characters, but obviously the reader, too) remember? As Therese muses, “Later, it would strike me that Claire said ‘do you remember’ and not ‘do you know’ or ‘have you heard of’. ‘Remember’, as if the story of Atalanta and the golden apples was something that had happened to us.” It struck me too. Because I don’t know the myth. This is my own fault. Reader: get up to date on your myths before reading Lioness.

The prodigal son is called Heathcote. Like Heathcliff, but with a cote! Cote is a shelter, not a cliff! Trevor is building hotels! Heathcote is spending lots of money! This must mean things. Caroline is super-mean except when she suddenly isn’t! Trevor is suspected of something, wrongly, then is again suspected of something else! Rich people are awful towards other rich people who get in trouble or people who become rich by marrying rich people! Oh. I just spoiled the entire plot. (I’m not telling you whether the second suspicion cast on Trevor is right or wrong, this much I can do.)

I have read this book in its entirety. It has 352 pages in hardcover edition and many more on my e-reader. Those pages are written very beautifully – I get writer envy sometimes when I see phrases I’d never think of, and there are plenty of those in Lioness. As the blurb asks: “All too quickly, Therese is forced to confront herself and her choices – just how did she become this person? And what exactly should she do about it?” I don’t know either, Therese. But you might consider getting gas into your car and not out of your butt LOLOLOL? Now I would like those hours of my life back and I wish I could write as beautifully as Emily Perkins does. Perhaps it is a metaphor for Therese’s stationery line – stationery is mostly blank, except for the pretty bits. So, exactly like this book. I recommend it to people who do things such as ‘entertaining’ and ‘mingling’ – you don’t need to read it to talk about it, and if you put it on the coffee table, your guests will know you are a person of class and sophistication. As for me, I’m going back to my Marian Keyes as I await the new Richard Osman.