Adrienne Brodeur

Wild Game by Adrienne Brodeur is a memoir that details the complicated and dysfunctional relationship Brodeur experienced with her mother, Malabar. This cycle spans several decades and although there is the storyline of how Brodeur became entangled in her mother’s affair, it wasn’t the most powerful part of this book for me.

What really spoke to me was how much this story shared the challenges of cycles repeating themselves in families. These complexities can continue to pass on show more generation after generation and Brodeur truly shows how hard dysfunction can be to break. The writing detailing how she confronted her past is raw and full of emotions and whether you can relate to this story or not, this is not a book to be missed.

Brodeur shares vividly, the complexities of their mother/daughter relationship and how it has affected her from her childhood to now during middle-age. Whether it is in romantic relationships or the relationships she has with her own children, it heavily impacts her to this day.

Brodeur reflects so honestly about how challenging it was as she began to distance herself from Malabar as an adult. While she knew her relationship wasn’t “normal” or healthy, it was hard not to fall back into the paths which had been ingrained in her family for so long.

While this book wasn’t easy to read at times, I appreciated that it wasn’t black or white and Brodeur is able to look at this deeply conflicted relationship with humanity and empathy. I stopped and reread sections of the book because the reflections on the journey of finding herself while batting the undercurrent of her family dynamics were so insightful.

I also appreciated that she recounted the impact the other people in her life had had on her and her ability to move forward. Brodeur’s ability to share such introspection and poignant details amidst the difficulties she endured made this book what it was and it won’t be one I will ever forget.

Thank you to Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for an advanced copy of this book. All opinions are my own. show less

A schadenfreude soap opera that reminds me of watching Dallas when I was a kid or Tiger King on Netflix last night. Brodeur's mother marries a rich and sickly bookworm and some years down the road has an affair with his vigorous and vibrant best friend. Fourteen-year-old Brodeur is recruited as confidante and accomplice, aiding and abetting the affair's cover-up. Things get even a little more twisted before they get better . . . or at least as good as they're going to get. Outrageous and show more sad.

Side note: It seems weird for the author to go to the trouble to use pseudonyms for everyone in the book and then basically out them all in the Acknowledgments. What was the point of that? A legal department thing? show less

Why is it when a man raises children alone he is heaped with praise, but when millions of women do it they are branded as “single mothers” which is not a compliment. As if all of them deliberately drove the fathers of their children away as it definitely conveys. Why aren’t they lauded and applauded for being the parent that stayed? Nine times out of ten when a man has to raise his children alone it’s because she has died, not because she has left. This makes him more sympathetic show more somehow, but we know that if she lived, she’d be doing the bulk of the raising. Drives me crazy.

But insofar as the book goes, so far I can’t help but despise everyone in it for their selfishness, backwardness and self-congratulation. It’s all so stultifyingly boring. Being a self-absorbed asshole isn’t interesting, neither does it take great talent or energy. I may call it quits soon and return it to the library. Borrowing was a good call.

OMG narrators - do some freaking research. Two of them persist in pronouncing Charon "Kay-ron". Uh no. Did one of them stop to wonder why the writer had a young boy crab that Charon was a girl's name and so not appropriate for a male turtle? Duh, it rhymes with Karen. Oy vey. This kind of thing drives me nuts.

The casual misogyny of father and son is pretty staggering. They are so fucking sure that they have every right to dominate and that they are naturally smarter, better and therefore superior is sickening. Nothing can alter their view of women as lower, lesser and deserving of subjugation and suppression. It's the natural order of things don't you know. The funniest thing is that they have NO IDEA how weak this makes them appear in reality. Women know it's fear and the smart ones avoid it. A naturally confident man doesn't fear women or worry about their accomplishments and position in the world. They accept and welcome any partnership, achievement or thought process from any quarter, no stupid gender pigeonholes. Oh the self-pity of today's average, middle-aged white man. Cry me a river boys.

Steph complains that she hasn't gotten far having a relationship with dad and siblings, but neither has she come clean about being their half-sister. Duh. When she finally does, only Abbey knows...I think. It was a bit unclear, but then Steph decides Ken and Adam are too horrible to be around and she decides against having a relationship with any of them except maybe Abbey. That seems to be a secret and then the book just ends. Eh. Glad I borrowed it.

Ken is truly gross. Good characterization, but I wish the writer had chosen another name for him, lol. show less

In this dramatic memoir, author Adrienne Brodeur tells the story of her enmeshed relationship with her domineering, manipulative mother Malabar. When Adrienne is only fourteen years old, Malabar embarks upon a love affair with the male half of a friendly couple. Malabar makes her teenage daughter her confidante and co-conspirator. Things get even more complicated (if such were possible) when Adrienne falls in love with her mother's lover's adopted son.

Malabar and her lover remind me of this show more quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby: “They were careless people...they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.”

This memoir is a beautifully written testament to the corrupting powers of entitlement and privilege. Well worth reading. show less