Miranda Popkey

“There is, below the surface of every conversation in which intimacies are shared, an erotic current. Sometimes this current is so hot it all but boils and other times it’s barely lukewarm, hardly noticeable, but always the current is present, if only you plunge your hands in just an inch or two farther down in the water. This is regardless of the gender of the people involved, of their sexual orientations. This is the natural outcome of disclosure, for to disclose is to reveal, to bring show more out into the open what was previously hidden. And that unwrapping, that denuding, is always, inevitably sensual.” These musings of Miranda Popkey's narrator in Topics of Conversation held me spellbound throughout because of her writing. The exchanges were alive and authentic; I felt as if I were part of the conversation, pouring another glass of wine, lighting a cigarette, leaning forward to listen.
First as a young woman babysitting and talking to a friend's mother who is relating the story of her response to a rape by her first husband. Next, the narrator's own sexual violence with a professor, then on to a time when she hooks up with a stranger, a scary business man wearing mid-level suit and tie, in his room where he keeps her prone under his huge, hairy hand for twenty-minutes, no sex. There is a realistic witness account of Norman Mailer's behavior toward his wife, Adele. We move on through other experiences of the narrator, her friends, her mother, all of which present a passive attitude, rape fantasy, and finally, single motherhood. But it wasn't the topics that held me rapt so much as the storytelling, the narrator's art as she says. I couldn't stop listening and each of the topics of conversation offered enough to keep me enthralled. I also liked the boozy descriptions, the sunsetting sky "the color of Macallan's scotch straight, no water. The rosiness matching a glass of summer rose." And always the bourbon in the coffee thermos, or the hidden bottle, the gin-and-tonics mounting as her mom pours yet another drink and talks about sex with her Freudiand therapist who "cured" her of her frigidity. The book begs for a book club conversation. show less

“There is, below the surface of every conversation in which intimacies are shared, an erotic current. Sometimes this current is so hot it all but boils and other times it’s barely lukewarm, hardly noticeable, but always the current is present, if only you plunge your hands in just an inch or two farther down in the water. This is regardless of the gender of the people involved, of their sexual orientations. This is the natural outcome of disclosure, for to disclose is to reveal, to bring show more out into the open what was previously hidden. And that unwrapping, that denuding, is always, inevitably sensual.” These musings of Miranda Popkey's narrator in Topics of Conversation held me spellbound throughout because of her writing. The exchanges were alive and authentic; I felt as if I were part of the conversation, pouring another glass of wine, lighting a cigarette, leaning forward to listen.
First as a young woman babysitting and talking to a friend's mother who is relating the story of her response to a rape by her first husband. Next, the narrator's own sexual violence with a professor, then on to a time when she hooks up with a stranger, a scary business man wearing mid-level suit and tie, in his room where he keeps her prone under his huge, hairy hand for twenty-minutes, no sex. There is a realistic witness account of Norman Mailer's behavior toward his wife, Adele. We move on through other experiences of the narrator, her friends, her mother, all of which present a passive attitude, rape fantasy, and finally, single motherhood. But it wasn't the topics that held me rapt so much as the storytelling, the narrator's art as she says. I couldn't stop listening and each of the topics of conversation offered enough to keep me enthralled. I also liked the boozy descriptions, the sunsetting sky "the color of Macallan's scotch straight, no water. The rosiness matching a glass of summer rose." And always the bourbon in the coffee thermos, or the hidden bottle, the gin-and-tonics mounting as her mom pours yet another drink and talks about sex with her Freudiand therapist who "cured" her of her frigidity. The book begs for a book club conversation. show less

I read this book as an electronic advance reading copy provided by Edelweiss, and I have submitted my comments to the publisher via that web site.

This book is excellent! The protagonist is unpredictable and compelling. I love how she tempers her debilitating anxiety with self deprecating humor. I wanted this book to keep going because I was so interested in what would happen to her (partly in the hope that she would see a therapist for her unacknowledged depression).

But the depression, show more anxiety, and anger that women feel is absolutely justified by the fear, abuse, and violence that men perpetrate. The book is crammed full of stories about how men hurt women, and that does make for difficult reading at times. What makes this book unusual and important is that it never portrays any of the women as a blameless victim; they are complex and flawed. Many of the women here are outwardly successful; some seem to have chosen their circumstances (like the protagonist, who says, "I instinctively hate kindness"); and some are reprehensible in their own ways, which never justifies how they are treated but does add layers of depth to their stories.

Highly recommended.

Favorite lines:

"Isn't that the test of love? The test of intimacy? The willingness to be cruel and the belief that, the moment of cruelty passed, the love, the intimacy, remains, undamaged?"

"The woman as object is less vulgar than the woman as subject. The woman as object is art and the man who objectifies her an artist. The woman as subject, well. Just a narcissistic bitch, isn't she?"

"When we thought about sex we thought mostly about ways to defend against what we didn't want instead of ways to pursue what we did."

"...shame is not without its pleasures, not least the pleasure of knowing you deserve to feel it." show less

Searching for Her Rudder

Life usually is a tough go for many people, especially those constantly in search of a definition of their life, how they have lived it and how they might live it once they gain some perspective. And so it is with the unnamed narrator of Miranda Popkey’s novel. This novel ranges over a long list of emotional topics, among them relationships and marriage, erotic desire, jealousy, self-loathing, self-destruction, and parental relationships. Here is a woman over the show more space of nearly two decades talking to herself and to other women about topics that, frankly, men hardly ever broach with each other, pointing up, as a byproduct, the gulf between women and men.

Topics of Conversation is one of those novels readers will either love or hate. Many certainly will find it uncomfortable, not only because some of the conversations touch on troubling subjects, but also because there’s quite a bit of nuance in the discussions. For instance, from the very beginning Artemisia’s tradeoff between her first marriage to a man she discovers weak and to a second marriage in ennui. Or later, when a group of mothers without husbands spend an afternoon relating how they came to be the room with babies and no husbands, touching on topics like latent lesbianism and the dichotomy of outrage over rape but a wish to be controlled. It will be either a revealing, perhaps affirming, excursion for some or an uncomfortable time squirming in your chair.

As for the narrator herself, smart and self-aware, she travels through life searching for a rudder. Along the way, she suffers through marriage, conceiving a child, conversations with her mother, all the while self-medicating with alcohol and cigarettes. Those who must like their characters probably will want to steer clear of this novel. And men, those with a liking, or at least high tolerance, for endless introspection might like diving into one troubled woman’s mind and search for identity; otherwise, a spy novel would be a better choice. Also, hopefully there are some decent men in the world, though none have found their way into Topics of Conversation. show less