Jill Alexander Essbaum

I first heard about Jill Alexander Essbaum's novel when it was mentioned as the next Fifty Shades of Grey, which pretty much made me dismiss it out of hand. Then I began to run into laudatory mentions, including in The New York Times Book Review podcast, and a review here by a reader whose opinion I think highly of. So when I saw it in the bookstore, I had to pick it up and read it right away.

It really, really is not like Fifty Shades of Grey. The protagonist, Anna, lacks agency, preferring show more to just go along with whatever anyone with a stronger personality suggests. She gets married and has three children without putting much thought into it and, now living in Switzerland, near Zurich, she lives as a stay-at-home mom, not so much by choice, but simply because she hasn't made an effort to do anything on her own. She neither drives nor has a bank account. Her mother-in-law does a large part of the childcare duties, leaving Anna adrift and depressed. She eventually, at the urging of her husband, begins therapy and, after nine years in Switzerland, begins learning German. She falls into various affairs, and it's here that things begin to get messy for Anna. She keeps the affairs to herself, of course, but they adds a level of chaos to a life she already has no control over.

Hausfrau is told solely from Anna's perspective, which is often frustrating and myopic. She's entirely consumed by her own unhappiness, and is unable to care about the feelings of those around her. Essbaum manages to pull this off; Anna is not a sympathetic character but she is understandable and her actions, or lack of action, make sense. And Essbaum's descriptions of being a foreigner in a strange land are written with the eye for detail of someone who has been in that position.

The story jumps around in time, but this works well. What is less effective are the scenes between Anna and her therapist. Sometimes the writing in these snippets is extraordinary, but too often the questions Anna asks are so trite as to be silly. Anna's no deep thinker and is committed to living an unexamined life, which is an integral part of her character, but it does make these encounters the dullest moments of the book. There's a watching-a-train-wreck-happen feel to this book, as from the inside of her head, the reader sees Anna fail to take action or fail to express herself over and over again. show less

Anna, an American expat, lives in cold and careful Switzerland, where she leads a life void of happiness. Anna is difficult, selfish and largely unsympathetic. She is passive and keeps the world at arm's length, not allowing people in or allowing herself to connect with her friends, family or adopted country in any meaningful way. The structure of the book mirrors Anna's distance, allowing the reader only gasps of past incidents at a time. In parallel, we see snippets of Anna's current life show more with her family and friends, and her inner thoughts via interactions with a psychoanalyst. Yet, for all of Anna's coldness and unlikeability, her story is compelling. Throughout the book, Anna poses questions: what is the difference between an obsession and a compulsion? A delusion and a hallucination? Love and lust? The self and the soul? These big questions are at the heart of the book. Terrific prose, clever uses of language, and sentences you want to tuck in your pocket to pull out again later, help make this a book you can't put down. show less

With depth of emotion that is truly astounding, Jill Essbaum tells the story of Anna Benz- an American expatriate who has married a Swiss banker. Despite that she has been living in Switzerland for 9 years, speaks German moderately well, has three children and an actively involved mother-in-law, Anna feels like an outsider… alone and isolated. "Hausfrau" is one of the saddest novels I’ve ever read.

It is clear from the onset that Anna has serious problems. She is seeing a psychiatrist and show more you- the reader- share portions of Anna’s interaction with the therapist. She has a broken spirit. No religion. No morals. And no grounded roots. Initially, the author’s clever technique of including Anna’s thoughts during the therapy sessions seemed like a ruse to inspire sympathy for Anna. But the last thing Anna would have wanted was sympathy. Her visits to the therapist were nothing more than a challenging mental exercise to conceal her true and deepest thoughts. After all, the only reason she was even going to Dr. Messerli was because her husband Bruno insisted, “I’ve had enough of your f...ing misery, Anna. Go fix it.”

Anna is not exactly a likable character. Her deep rooted but detached anti-social behavior is repellent and her reckless selfish actions evoke disdain and horror. She uses casual indiscreet sexual affairs with random strangers to numb her mental anguish, Therefore, be warned of some very graphic sex scenes. And seemingly set on accomplishing self destruction at any any cost, be prepared to witness the unpleasant consequences.

Jill Essbaum has won numerous awards for her poetry and this talent comes through with exquisite clarity in the telling of Anna’s story. A modern literary achievement of high order, expect Hausfrau to be showered with praise and recognition.

In case you are curious… yes- as the story progressed- I did develop very deep sympathy for Anna. My heart ached enough to bring me to tears at the end of the story. As she quoted herself, saying at a tender point during this tragic novel, no-one should have to feel this much pain. Ever. show less

Gotta feed the hole. That’s a line from Romeo is Bleeding, a 1993 film starring Gary Oldman and although the holes are different, they both need to be fed. I’m going to get all spoiler-y on you in a bit, so if you haven’t read the book and want to, stick with this paragraph. If you have hang-ups about sex, morality and the “sanctity” of motherhood, don’t read it. Seriously. The writer uses the words cock and fuck frequently and in their most literal sense and Anna is not a show more paragon of virtue. She is a woman in pain; a woman without a compass. Another review says that Anna wasted the lovely life she had. Did that person read the same book? Anna certainly didn’t think her life was lovely. She thought she ought to, but didn’t and she knew the difference. Knowing didn’t make her appreciate it or try to improve it to make it more satisfactory to her. I don’t think any life would have been no matter what she did, or rather, allowed to have happen to her. The hole was yawning and empty and demanding to be filled (and if you think that’s just metaphorical, it’s not). The sex is graphic, vigorous and yeah, Anna comes, but there’s no joy in it. It’s a reflex like swallowing and she craves it because of the power it bestows - she flexes her desicated will. There are almost no other actions or decisions left to her. She marvels that passive and passion begin with the same four letters.

Spoilers -

Anna is a person worthy of sympathy despite how her actions turn off the reader. She is truly rudderless. Nothing affects her and she knows it. I found her boring actually and I think that’s how she views herself as well. She wonders why, but not too much. She brings fabricated dreams to her therapist who doesn’t suspect they’re fake and analyzes those for her and our amusement. She tries to improve her German, not for herself, to facilitate her interaction with the world, but to placate her husband, Bruno. It’s here she meets Archie and after one brief encounter in class they start an affair that is only about sex. Anna is adamant that is all it will be and after we learn about her previous affair with Stephen we understand why she won’t conflate it with love or romance again. That affair left her with her third child, daughter Polly Jean, but it’s a hollow consolation after Stephen returns to the States.

It’s the children that anchor her to Bruno securely, but she is not wrapped up in them as other women are. She knows this, but cannot correct it or manufacture the appropriate emotional connection. It’s more of the void; the hole. She leaves the kids with her mother-in-law as often as she can get away with and admits that Charles is her favorite. Bruno believes them all to be his and probably the boys are. Eventually you know he’s going to learn the truth; both about his kids and his wife. Except it doesn’t go how we expect.

Anna is caught, but not by Bruno; by Charles. She swears him to silence with threats and coercion, but we don’t think it’s going to take. Unfortunately it does, but in the worst way possible. When Charles is killed I literally held my breath, put the book down and couldn’t continue right away. The tragedy itself was enough to do it, but thinking about how Anna would take it added depth. Even not being the best mother on earth doesn’t let you out of guilt over being with your lover when your child dies. I doubted she’d survive it and frankly, she was so empty and lacking any vital spark I didn’t think it would be much of a loss if she decided to kill herself. She was so sapped of any kind of volition or will that I didn’t know if she would have it in her. When Bruno threw her out of the house, with no money, no bank account and no ability to drive or fend for herself she was at the mercy of the universe and it would grind her to nothing. The way we’re left with in the end was at least quick. show less