Adverbs

When I teach genre classes, I like to conclude with an "edge case" for the genre, one that pushes my students to make a claim as to whether or not the book fits the genre, which in doing so forces to them to articulate what the genre is. When I taught The Modern Novel, I ended with Daniel Handler's Adverbs, which you might define as a collection of linked short stories, yet the cover of my HarperPerennial edition, at least, claims the subtitle A NOVEL. Though the book is not unified in terms of plot, a number of characters recur (or seem to recur) between stories, and there are recurrent motifs, like pop songs and birds, that bring unity to the book, beyond the fact that the whole book is a meditation on one topic, that of love.

Handler show more does tie much of the book together in the chapter "Truly," which is more of an essay about the rest of the book (it reminds me of the half chapter in Julian Barnes's A History of the World in 10½ Chapters, a novel similarly on the edge of novel-ness). In "Truly," Handler suggests both that the book is unified and that you're a bit foolish for chasing the unification:

Nobody keeps score, because there's no sense in keeping track of what everything is doing. You might as well trace birds through a book, [...] or follow the pop songs that stick in people's heads or follow the people themselves, although you're likely to confuse them, as so many people in this book have the same names. You can't follow all the Joes, or all the Davids or Andreas. You can't follow Adam or Allison or Keith, up to Seattle or down to San Francisco or across-- three thousand miles, as the bird flies-- to New York City, and anyway they don't matter. (193-4)

I would argue, then, that the book is unified by its very lack of unity: the reader of Adverbs seeks coherence in an incoherent universe, much as all the characters in the book do. And creating coherence in an incoherent universe, or at least raising the spectre of coherence and then destroying it, is precisely what the novel is all about. (My students liked the book, and did indeed say it was a novel, but I think maybe they just wanted the discussion to end so that class would be over.) show less

I came to Adverbs having just read The Basic Eight, which I loved. Adverbs has the same poetic prose and even more of the earlier book's whimsy, but when it comes to plot and characters the differences couldn't be greater. One of Daniel Handler's greatest successes in The Basic Eight is managing a large cast of characters, keeping them all individual, memorable and relevant. In Adverbs he does exactly the opposite. On purpose. Multiple characters have the same name and sometimes (but not always) the same traits. This is quite confusing until the author explains it to us (in the first person). This is not a book where the nouns are important – the 'who' and the 'what' – the stars of this story the adverbs – the 'how'. Adverbs is a show more book where plot and character are subservient to tropes, themes and nuances – an unusual conceit, but not necessarily a bad one. If The Basic Eight is The Deer Hunter, Adverbs is Heaven's Gate (a maligned an underestimated movie). There is much to enjoy here, but approach with caution. show less

This collection of stories is woven together as delicately as a cobweb. There are dozens of characters whose lives all intersect if just for a moment. All their stories have a lot in common. They are all people in love, whether happily or not, whether knowingly or not, logically or not. Despite the compelling and fascinating characters, it's truly the author's words that are the star of this book. One gets the sense that he is constantly at play. He is weaving his language into a complex tapestry to surprise and delight. He succeeds. Before long, I found myself falling helplessly in love with the author himself. I could have listened to him forever.

I think this book was intended to be quirky and/or ironic, but instead it is just excruciating. And what was the point of the numerous homophobic slurs, anti Semitic comments, and casual references to "fat" as a pejorative? Not recommended.

I’m not sure what to say about this book – it is kind of odd and quirky, although I expected this from the man who writes children’s books under the pseudonym Lemony Snicket. However, I found the Snicket books quirky in a darkly humorous but understandable way. In this case, a lot of the book had me scratching my head, furrowing my brow, and say “huh?” The book is a collection of short (sometimes very short) stories supposedly about love (some I would argue are more about friendship or other topics than romantic love). The stories themselves are mostly oddly humorous, with the occasional pathos thrown in for good measure. What had me confused was trying to figure out how, if at all, the stories were all connected. You see, show more Handler would often repeat names for characters over and over again, and it was hard to tell when this was the same Andrea, for instance, as a previous story or a brand new one. If it appeared to be the same character, it was hard to tell where this story fit in relation time-wise to the other story about the seemingly same character. “Truly,” in my opinion, belonged as either the first or last story of the bunch, instead of just thrown in the middle, as this story seemed to give the most explanation for what the book was trying to do. Overall, I enjoyed the quirky humor, but I would have preferred if there was one coherent story or a bunch of completely unconnected stories rather than the bizarre, possibly related string of stories presented. show less

Life is not a progression from the beginning of a story to the end, it's a mess of contradictory ideas and occurences. This book reflects that fact with wit and a brilliantly, honestly chaotic style.

Daniel Handler rocks. I am stalking him across the globe. I had a chance to see him in Wales for the Guardian’s Hay on Wye literary festival both as Lemony Snicket (or more accurately in place of Lemony Snicket) and as Daniel Handler. I also saw him in Seattle for a Mcsweeney’s fundraiser where he had Ben Gibbard (of Death Cab for Cutie and Postal Service fame) Sarah Vowell (“Assassination Vacation”) and Colin Meloy (the Decemberists) act out a play about his life. He was fantastic on each occasion. He is one of a new breed along with fellow Mcsweeney’s friends Dave Eggers, Michael Chabon, and Jonathan Safran Foer, to name a few, who can write serious literate novels, that are also fresh, funny, witty, and playful.
I haven’t show more yet read Handler’s earlier two ‘adult novels’ (that makes them sound like porn, but it is really just an annoying tag given to novels written by people who also write kid’s books), but Adverbs is an excellent novel. The prose is playful and fun, there is a lot of wordplay and humour, and colourful phrasing, but there is also a lot of heart. The characters are deftly portrayed and are brought fully to life. The book is a set of short stories each titled with an adverb and are about love in some form. The characters all move in and out of each other’s stories as they criss-cross the US and fall in and out of love. Though not all of the characters who have the same name are the same person. It would take a careful and exacting read to truly sort out who is who and who knows who and who loves or loved who. But each of the stories are well written and engaging. The characters are lively and fun, and also depressing or creepy, and often sad (how could you write a book about love without sadness?). But they are always real, and always compelling. There are a lot of pop culture in jokes strewn through the pages, and the book manages to be funny and serious at the same time. No mean feat these days. This is a great collection of stories that also reads as (and is indeed titled as) a novel. This is a rich, warm, funny, and all round excellent book. My stalking will continue. In fact I will see him again this week (finally in my home town) appearing in place of Lemony Snicket. No doubt he will not disappoint. show less