More like Stagnation Street

I have finally finished reading Revolutionary Road. Still haven't seen the flick, and really the only reason that I bought the book was the fabulous cover art.

Apparently this is the greatest novel written about the death of the American Dream. (according to the Daily Tele pull out on the published website, so yeah... grain of salt). And it may well be the greatest novel of that type. Except for the fact that I don't much like reading stories about the death of the American Dream.

Frank & April Wheeler are in a fairly loveless marriage in the doldrums of suburbia, being Baby Boomers going against their parents (what is left of them) and trying to fight against the restrictive conventional lifestyle perameters that they are pretending they haven't constructed for themselves. April resents the career as an actress that she never had, and Frank riles against his boring office job, all the while not actually being capable of defining what it is that he would rather be doing.

The antagonistic relationship between the Wheelers is the kind of relationship that makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside with the knowledge that I am single. While most of the novel is written from the perspective of Frank, his interpretations of his wife's words and actions is so repulsive and repugnant. I don't know whether it entirely reflects Richard Yates' opionion of women, or whether it is the character alone speaking. Frank's obsession with the concept of what it is to be a man is near nauseating. But again, probably an accurate representation of the post-industrialist schism of identity and masculinity.

The plot follows the actions over the course of the year, flashing back to the reasons the couple are so maladjusted, back to childhood abandonment and involvement in war. As though it was some kind of explanation for screeching arguments, for sexual infidelity, for abhorent treatment of their parochial neighbours. Generally the characters in this novel behave in despicable ways.

As a general rule (d0 most other people have rules about what text types they like their protagonists to lean on the side of good or evil??) I love a play that has a slightly evil hero. I particularly love to work on plays where the good guys are actually downright bastards (see The Women or Sexual Perversity in Chicago). But when I read a novel, when there is a character in my psyche, as there has to be in a novel, when there is a Frank or April Wheeler rattling around in my imagination,, making me identify with them, I like my central characters to be pretty darn good. Not flawless. Not perfectionists. Slightly flawed is fine, but I have to like them.

I didn't find RR as depressing as I thought I would. It wasn't as confronting or as special or even as engaging as I had hoped - what with all the "masterpiece" hype I had read about it. Reading Rev Rd became more of a chore than I like my rec reading to be. And again, Yates' imagery is great, and his obsession with descriptions of lips is simultaneously engaging and annoying. But it didn't make me want to run out and rent Rev Rd, despite the fact that I love a good fifties frock in a film.