This Is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper
I'm sucker for family drama, I am sucker for dysfunctional family relationships. Being a part of dysfunctional family is without a doubt less than fun. But to us, the ones who are silently watching the family fall out taking a place, it is somewhat a treat. You learn a lot of human nature while enjoying your mental popcorn middle of an humorous family confrontation.
That in mind, I am a big fan of Hollywood that produces me movies as such, frequently. But I am a lot less familiar with literature that offers me the same with a hint of humor. I thought This Is Where I Leave You would work as a great starter for me. I was right. So right it hurts.
This Is Where I Leave You doesn't particularly offer anything new when comes to structure of fictional, dysfunctional family drama. The story has the most stereotypical characterization you can hope for. The average guy. The responsible brother. The reckless brother. The family brats. The weird mother figure. The distant father figure. The baby making machine known as the sister. Just to name a few.
But there is something else, too.
For sometime now, I have been thinking it must be really great to be a white, heterosexual male, even though, at the same time, it must be one of the shittiest thing to experience. Supposedly, the white, heterosexual male is the most privileged creature in the whole wide world. Supposedly, the white, heterosexual male has it all.
Because of that privileged status, everything that happens in this world, especially the bad things, will eventually be the fault of the white, heterosexual male. You can always take from the white, heterosexual male. After all, he does have it all. Supposedly, that is. On top of that, the white, heterosexual male will always be potential misogynist, chauvinistic, redneck, exploiter, wifebeater, a rapist and a racist. Supposedly, that is. The burden of the white, heterosexual male.
To me, who is a white, bisexual female, it brings out a wish there would be as good organizations to fight for the rights (yes, yes, and yes) of the ordinary white, heterosexual male than there is organizations fighting over the rights of women, sexual and ethnic minorities. And no, religious movements, Ku Klux Klan and Freemasonry doesn't count as one.
What This Is Where I Leave You does is to give the voice to that ordinary, white, heterosexual male. To the ordinary guy who works nine-to-wife to make a good, decent living. To the ordinary guy who dreams of everlasting love and marriage with bunch of kids. The ordinary guy who enjoys his football and occasional beer. The ordinary, faithful guy who appreciates the beauty of other females, but always comes to home to his wife. To the ordinary guy who finds his wife under the rhythmically moving alpha male in their shared king sized bed. To the ordinary guy who got screwed not just by love, but life in general.
The voice of that white, heterosexual male is not always pleasant. It can be dark. It can be angry. It can be resentful. It can be regretful. It can be jealous. It can be hateful. It can be joyful. It can be sad. It can be hopeless. It can be hopeful. It can be sarcastic. It can be humorous. It can be insightful. It can be observing. It can be the visualizing voice that notices the abs of an another male. The voice that notices the drooping breast of the cashier. The voice that appreciates the perfectly shaped, round ass in front of him. The voice of an horny individual. The voice of an rejected, lonely human being. It's every state in a mind of an ordinary guy whose life just met the biggest shit storm since the last big one.
And I liked that voice. Me, as an white, bisexual, feminine female could identify with the voice of an ordinary, white, heterosexual male. It was everything bad, it was everything good.
It was life.
