We need to talk about Eva

I have just finished reading Lionel Shriver's We need to talk about Kevin, as millions of other had done long and ever ago. In fact, my daughter had been recommending it for months and I only finally decided to read it because the film has opened in Switzerland and I want to go and see it (I'm a big fan of Tilda Swinton and I would watch her in anything).

The fact that I'm taking the trouble to write about it indicates that it did make an impression on me.It's certainly easy to read and hard to put down - you are wondering, with a sense of foreboding, what is going to happen next. Moreover, even though you know from the outset that the emponymous character has killed seven students and two adults in his school, there is a surprise in store which adds to the shock). I expect that, with the cast that was chosen, it has also make a great film;indeed  this is what nearly all of the critics are saying.

Equally, though, I wouldn't be taking the trouble to write this if I didn't have a few misgivings. These are nothing to do with the issues that have generated public controversy around the book - the exploitation of the high school killings phenomenon in the USA, or the questioning of maternal instincts. Both of these I regard as valid subjects for an author to explore - esepacially the latter.

My first problem is with Kevin himself. Through most of the book he is just obnoxious. You want to smash his face in and you are, at the same time, wondering whether or not, if he was your child, you would love him in spite of all. As he grows older he becomes sharper and more perceptive and this blunts his repellent nature, making him slightly fascinating in an evil sort of way. You come to repsect him as being, in many ways, the most perceptive character in the book. It's one thing for Thomas Harris to create a fascinating villain in Hannibal the Cannibal; however in Shriver's chosen genre with its more serious prevailing themes this is a questionable distraction. More importantly, for a novel like this to work on the highest level, it shouldn't answer the question: "would you love him if he was your child?" The best fiction poses questions you might not have thought of answering but doesn't try to provide easy answers. Shriver loses her nerve at the very end and tries to answer this question in a manner that is thrite unconvincing either in terms the mother's character, or Kevin himself.

The second problem is the father, Franklin. As one reviewer put it, you might regard the mother's character - a successful writer and businesswoman trying to square these roles with motherhood - as a cliché but her husband is certainly one. Despite the fact that he obviously handsome, warm and - in certain senses only - caring, he is ultimately a bumptious fool and Eva's affection for him is unconvincing. Perhaps an American readership would sypmathise more with his chunky manliness and his folksy conservatism but I suspect that the very Americans who would be drawn to read the book would sneer at these qualities just as much as I feel inclined to do. When I say he is a cliché, it is because he ticks all the boxes and it is too easy to dislike him - he is even Republican, for God's sake. A bumptious Democrat or a sympathetic Republican (if the latter is not an oxymoron) would create a more interessting conflict for the reader.

My third problem is with the mother herself, Eva. In this case, though, I am almost certainly reacting the way Shriver intended; if so it is a positive reflection on her writing style and the problem lies with me. I have seen her described as "unsympathetic" but this is an over-simplification. I do sypmathise with many of her trevails - her despair at Kevin's behaviour, the lack of sympathy and understanding from Franklin and so on. So I can forgive her whining tone at times. Nevertheless, while "unsympathetic" may be an overstatement, she is certainly not likeable. She is a sardonic, conteptuous intellectual snob. I found myself shocked by the scene where she writes about a visit to Franklin's parents that took place after the high school killings. Within their limitations, the couple are obviously kind, homely people but writes about them in viciously sneering tones. She describes their spick-and-span house that they have laboured on lovingly over the years but mocks their intellectiual limitations (noting the presence of a state-of-the art sound system with nothing to play on it except Classics' Greatest Hits, for example).

Why I think that we are meant to see her this way is because Kevin sees her this way too. In one really excellent scene when she takes him out to dinner he lets her launch into a tirade about America which he then deconstructs piece by piece before asking her what makes her think she has the right to feel so superior. The problem, though, is that the treatment of her character distracts the reader from consideration fo Kevin himself. I suspect that Shriver is leaving us to wonder whether the latter is the result of nature or nurture but I am not sure if this works - Eva has simply too much baggage.

On a personal note, the other reason I had a problem with Eva was that I saw in her elements of myself. I have often, when visiting other people's homes, sized up their book and music collection and said "hmmph!". My only excuse is that, unlike Eva, I would usually refrain from articulating that sentiment out loud unless there was some other reason for disliking the people in question. Nevertheless,even though it was uncomfortable to have the sentiments being articulated with such venom by someone else I identified with her intellectual snobbery. It was almost like looking in the mirror and it wasn't pretty.

I will try to learn from the lesson!