Indulgence for The Last of Her Kind


Let’s allow the writer, Sigrid Nunez, some slack. After all, we’re on the same side, and she is that good. When the payoff is big enough, much can be forgiven.

Take the scene at Edie’s and Turner’s lunch meeting. Edie is there to caution her brother-in-law about his affair. Turner is there to announce his intention to marry said affair. Here it comes: waiter “hovers” taking mental notes on what he considers a great line to use in a screenplay, “Marrying each other won’t do what . . . you may be subconsciously wishing. She can’t replace your daughter, and you can’t replace the father who abandoned her.” It is a writer’s (intentional) faux pas, but one you have to love it.  We forgive the author having a little fun because it tickles us and it fits with the Manhattan we all know, whether or not we live there. The City is the human drama publicly playing out before strangers’ eyes.

Sometimes, Nunez too heavily taps the 1960’s and ‘70’s. It is all there: Manson, the SDS, Weathermen, Mick Jagger, John Lennon, the pantheon of drugs, Altamont and Woodstock, the Black Panthers, on and on. It’s review for a child of the ‘60’s, perhaps tutelage for the later born. Sometimes it warms, sometimes makes one turn away. It was convincing though just for support of the story there was too much. For instance, Nunez appropriates the de rigueur acid trip George and her sister Solange take to establish George’s deep desire to have a child. Well, apparently, all acid trips are not equal. That one, I am not buying.

It is as clear as it is daring that Nunez invites comparison of one main character, Ann, with Jay Gatsby, yes, of The Great. Early in the book George(tte), the narrator,  gasses up on speed to write her pan of Fitzgerald’s novel. That scene along with her paper’s reappearance in her daughter Zoe’s hands at several points notably at the end of the novel, elevate this book as literature rather than just story.

That’s not saying Nunez is a Fitzgerald, though why shouldn’t she be? Rather like Manhattan itself – and the many sites of George’s life in the city – the connection builds upon what had been there before. If Jay Gatsby was the great American idealist of the 20’s, Dooley Ann Drayton is the same for the 60’s. Both rejected their upbringing. Both failed. Both were too inflexible. Both were culpable and tragic. And each has a narrator that is none of the above.

If Ann is Gatsby, George is Nick Carraway. The class switcheroo should not be a bother. Ann is monied, Jay Gatz poor. George is as “rural class” as Nick is “well-to-do.” But otherwise, the comparison instructs.  For all George’s misadventures in the book (spoilers: dropping out of school, suffering rape, escaping rape, drugging, marrying the unloved, loving the unmarriageable and on) she is nearly as priggish as Carraway. Nor, like old Nick, does she change. Forever the observer – even in her great love affair, she may well have stayed on the side lines as the “she” of that part of her story – George seems to float along, bumbling her way to what she hoped would come: family.  Over on Ann’s side of the dorm room, she is feverishly working for the betterment of the races, while George lets come what may. And the result?  Ann gets less than nothing (like Gatsby). Of course, George gets the girl and the boy as well as reclaiming the prodigal sister. Well, I always liked Nick Carraway, but I have to say, he didn’t accomplish much either. At least, thank God, George didn’t tell Ann about her affair. Such self-indulgence, even for her, would be damnable. But Nunez doesn’t let her off the hook even to the end where she has George meeting Nick in an imagined Fifth Avenue saying to him “Pick me, pick me.”

All things George and Zoe say about The Great Gatsby feed our understanding of of The Last of Her Kind:  Mencken’s critique: “‘No more than a glorified anecdote;’” George’s recapitulation of Fitzgerald’s worry: “‘I guess I just like my love stories to include some important woman character’” compared to her love story which included herself as a deluded, ungracious, and reckless woman, hardly an important one; and Zoe’s new-generation take one the book: “How can you not see that it’s a great love story?”

Nunez includes in that final section on Gatsby the schoolteacher’s assignments, inviting the comparison: “Compare and contrast: East Egg / West Egg. Jay Gatsby / Tom Buchanan. New York / The Middle West.” We could add “the 60’s / the 00’s” and say “speculate” to go even further.

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