false 2 13 false false Fri Feb 01 00:00:00 -0800 2008 Thu Feb 07 08:25:43 -0800 2008 Thu Feb 07 09:06:52 -0800 2008
As I've mentioned here a couple of times before, I've recently become a fairly big fan of movie-friendly author Tom Perrotta; for example, I found his breakthrough 2006 novel Little Children to be a surprisingly complex and subtle look at just what a horrific place the suburbs can be to some people, a stifling environment that squashes all yearning for something beyond the lowest common denominator as thoroughly as a Communist cultural crackdown. Ah, but then I read his latest, 2007's similarly-themed The Abstinence Teacher, and realized something I think I knew all along but that I hadn't wanted to admit to myself; that Perrotta in fact dances on that thin little line between being a good movie-friendly author and a bad one, and that even a small amount of seemingly inconsequential bad decisions on his part concerning character and story will eventually amount to one giant stinker of a book by the end, even with such a book still being 92-percent exactly like the other book that's great and that everyone loves.

Like Little Children, for example, The Abstinence Teacher is also set in a repressive McMansion-happy middle-class suburb in the American Northeast; like Little Children, it's also supposed to be about a subversive sexual tension between people on opposite sides of an arbitrary issue that is arbitrarily important in this gossipy hothouse suburban environment. But see, here's a perfect example of what I'm talking about, because in Little Children Perrotta makes such a relationship work, by making the supposed opposites actually two sides of the same coin; in that book, it makes sense that the former radical-feminist academe and the former frat-boy football hero would have a charged illicit affair, because it was the Kafkaesque environment they were in that brought an end to both their individual hopes and dreams. In his newest book, though, Perrotta tries to use a Fundamentalist Christian church as the catalyst bringing two people from opposite sides of the fence suddenly and unusually together; but in this case such a thing simply doesn't work, because of the church and its actions causing a legitimate rift between anyone who falls on either side of the fence, too big to be overcome in a cutesy romantic way like Perrotta tries to do.

In fact, this is the question I kept coming back to, over and over and over again as I read this novel; of why the main Christian character, former rock star and wicked addict Tim Mason, so thoroughly devotes his life to a cartoonishly evil Evangelical church to begin with. Perrotta tries to explain that it was the church who helped him overcome his addiction, and so Tim feels an irrational fear of falling off the wagon if he were to ever stray from their mustache-twirling neocon activities, but I'm not buying it; I myself am an atheist who's never been through a recovery program, and even I know that there are literally hundreds of politically moderate religious organizations out there designed specifically to help recovering addicts. (This is even a basic precept of...]]>