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Talk Talk
Dana sits in a courtroom with her legs shackled as a long list of charges is read out, many of them dangerous. But the panic that grips her is not because she has been caught. She knows there has been a terrible mistake - she didn't commit any of these crimes. As Dana and her lover Bridger set out to clear her name and find the person who is living a blameless life of criminal excess at her expense, they begin to test the life they have built together to its limits.
416 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2006
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About the author
T. Coraghessan Boyle
157 books3,012 followersT. Coraghessan Boyle (also known as T.C. Boyle, is a U.S. novelist and short story writer. Since the late 1970s, he has published eighteen novels and twleve collections of short stories. He won the PEN/Faulkner award in 1988 for his third novel, World's End, which recounts 300 years in upstate New York. He is married with three children. Boyle has been a
Professor of English at the University of Southern California since 1978, when he founded the school's undergraduate creative writing program.
He grew up in the small town on the Hudson Valley that he regularly fictionalizes as Peterskill (as in widely anthologized short story Greasy Lake). Boyle changed his middle name when he was 17 and exclusively used Coraghessan for much of his career, but now also goes by T.C. Boyle.
Professor of English at the University of Southern California since 1978, when he founded the school's undergraduate creative writing program.
He grew up in the small town on the Hudson Valley that he regularly fictionalizes as Peterskill (as in widely anthologized short story Greasy Lake). Boyle changed his middle name when he was 17 and exclusively used Coraghessan for much of his career, but now also goes by T.C. Boyle.
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August 22, 2025
TALK TALK
Entertainment. Di classe.
Di quello che sarebbe potuto piacere a Graham Greene, che di entertainment s’intendeva assai.
Thriller. Di classe.
Non come quelli che hanno frasi che durano mezzo rigo, che hanno più punti che parole.
TC Boyle sa come scrivere una frase, renderla composita, farla durare quel tanto che basta ad ammaliare senza confondere.
Eppure TC Boyle irride il suo editore che reclamizzava questo romanzo come thriller:
Non so se ho scritto un thriller. Non leggo mai thriller perché mi annoiano, sono superficiali. Ma credo che definire questo romanzo un thriller convenga agli editori: la parola ricorda il suono del registratore di cassa.
La partenza del romanzo è in settima marcia: Alex (Dana nell’originale) si sta preparando per uscire, è in ritardo come al solito, ha appuntamento dal dentista e poi a scuola dove insegna – buca uno stop, viene fermata dalla polizia, consegna i documenti, rimane in macchina ad aspettare (in US si scende dalla vettura solo se te lo ordinano, altrimenti si rimane seduti in macchina e con le mani ben in vista, niente movimenti strani - descrivo per plurima reiterata insistita esperienza diretta, ho sempre avuto problemi con i limiti di velocità di quel paese), dopo una lunga attesa il poliziotto ritorna a pistola spianata urlando ordini che Alex non sente.
Non può sentirli. Ma non perché il poliziotto non urla abbastanza: non può sentirli perché Alex, apprendiamo adesso, è sorda.
Un inizio travolgente.
TC Boyle riesce a reggere questo ritmo per quasi 400 pagine, dalle quali è difficile staccarsi, si vuole sapere che accade, si gode ogni attimo, ogni snodo, Boyle sa quando ‘staccare’, usa un montaggio parallelo che è diverso dallo standard, mai scontato, mai banale, mai noioso.
Quella mattina, dopo lunga attesa, Alex scopre che c’è un’altra persona che va in giro con il suo identico nome e che commette crimini con l’identità che le ha rubato, che ha clonato. Ha violato la sua identità, si è impadronito della sua anima, le sta portando via la vita intera.
Proprio perché sorda, Alex ha faticato a stabilire la sua identità nella società, e non è disposta a lasciarsela portare via senza reagire: la sbattono in prigione per tre giorni, la processano, si accorgono dell’errore, ma non la aiutano. Alex deve fare tutto da sola: ma da quel momento il ladro ha il tempo contato, Alex è sulle sue tracce, inizia la caccia all’uomo.
E Boyle è così bravo che a tratti viene da credere che il ladro sia la vittima, e la derubata il carnefice.
Ovviamente, il ladro, il secondo Alex, usa internet per stanare identità, impossessarsene, ottenere documenti finti, aprire conti bancari e ottenere carte di credito, svuotare conti correnti. Un’attività che TC Boyle è perfettamente a suo agio nel documentare, come se per anni avesse lavorato all’FBI.
Boyle non usa la psicologia per spiegare i suoi personaggi: li osserva, li fotografa. Vizi e virtù, come un Bosch (Hieronymus) del terzo millennio
È un grande pezzo di letteratura e tratta temi importanti: ma allo stesso tempo ha il ritmo e la verve dei thriller, dice Elmore Leonard, che un pochino se ne intende.
Entertainment. Di classe.
Di quello che sarebbe potuto piacere a Graham Greene, che di entertainment s’intendeva assai.
Thriller. Di classe.
Non come quelli che hanno frasi che durano mezzo rigo, che hanno più punti che parole.
TC Boyle sa come scrivere una frase, renderla composita, farla durare quel tanto che basta ad ammaliare senza confondere.
Eppure TC Boyle irride il suo editore che reclamizzava questo romanzo come thriller:
Non so se ho scritto un thriller. Non leggo mai thriller perché mi annoiano, sono superficiali. Ma credo che definire questo romanzo un thriller convenga agli editori: la parola ricorda il suono del registratore di cassa.
La partenza del romanzo è in settima marcia: Alex (Dana nell’originale) si sta preparando per uscire, è in ritardo come al solito, ha appuntamento dal dentista e poi a scuola dove insegna – buca uno stop, viene fermata dalla polizia, consegna i documenti, rimane in macchina ad aspettare (in US si scende dalla vettura solo se te lo ordinano, altrimenti si rimane seduti in macchina e con le mani ben in vista, niente movimenti strani - descrivo per plurima reiterata insistita esperienza diretta, ho sempre avuto problemi con i limiti di velocità di quel paese), dopo una lunga attesa il poliziotto ritorna a pistola spianata urlando ordini che Alex non sente.
Non può sentirli. Ma non perché il poliziotto non urla abbastanza: non può sentirli perché Alex, apprendiamo adesso, è sorda.
Un inizio travolgente.
TC Boyle riesce a reggere questo ritmo per quasi 400 pagine, dalle quali è difficile staccarsi, si vuole sapere che accade, si gode ogni attimo, ogni snodo, Boyle sa quando ‘staccare’, usa un montaggio parallelo che è diverso dallo standard, mai scontato, mai banale, mai noioso.
Quella mattina, dopo lunga attesa, Alex scopre che c’è un’altra persona che va in giro con il suo identico nome e che commette crimini con l’identità che le ha rubato, che ha clonato. Ha violato la sua identità, si è impadronito della sua anima, le sta portando via la vita intera.
Proprio perché sorda, Alex ha faticato a stabilire la sua identità nella società, e non è disposta a lasciarsela portare via senza reagire: la sbattono in prigione per tre giorni, la processano, si accorgono dell’errore, ma non la aiutano. Alex deve fare tutto da sola: ma da quel momento il ladro ha il tempo contato, Alex è sulle sue tracce, inizia la caccia all’uomo.
E Boyle è così bravo che a tratti viene da credere che il ladro sia la vittima, e la derubata il carnefice.
Ovviamente, il ladro, il secondo Alex, usa internet per stanare identità, impossessarsene, ottenere documenti finti, aprire conti bancari e ottenere carte di credito, svuotare conti correnti. Un’attività che TC Boyle è perfettamente a suo agio nel documentare, come se per anni avesse lavorato all’FBI.
Boyle non usa la psicologia per spiegare i suoi personaggi: li osserva, li fotografa. Vizi e virtù, come un Bosch (Hieronymus) del terzo millennio
È un grande pezzo di letteratura e tratta temi importanti: ma allo stesso tempo ha il ritmo e la verve dei thriller, dice Elmore Leonard, che un pochino se ne intende.
April 25, 2011
All right, I finally finished this one. About halfway through I realized it had the potential to be a huge stinker, and I'm sorry to say that was borne out. While T.C. Boyle is a very good writer--The Tortilla Curtain is a work of the highest art--what keeps him from being a great one is that he tries to do too much sometimes.
Talk Talk is supposed to be a thriller, Ok? And I'm all right with an author playing around with the conventions of a genre, but only when it's cool and fresh and doesn't detract from the flow of the story because, after all, what is a thriller without a good flow?
Answer me this: if this is a thriller, then why does Boyle stop, herky-jerky, and insist on expounding on little lyrical moments at the most inopportune times? I mean, do I really need to know how the humid air is pounding on a character's face like a sledgehammer in the middle of a frantic foot race through traffic? I'm making up that specific poetic brush stroke, but he interrupts the flow of his most viscerally entertaining moments way too often.
I'm sorry to say this, because it feels dirty to say, but he's too in love with the English language for his own good.
Which is fine if you want to write a book of poetry, but please, Lord, if you're writing about a high-tempo cross-country car chase, please do not tell us about the roses at the side of the highway. It's just weird.
Skip this one.
Talk Talk is supposed to be a thriller, Ok? And I'm all right with an author playing around with the conventions of a genre, but only when it's cool and fresh and doesn't detract from the flow of the story because, after all, what is a thriller without a good flow?
Answer me this: if this is a thriller, then why does Boyle stop, herky-jerky, and insist on expounding on little lyrical moments at the most inopportune times? I mean, do I really need to know how the humid air is pounding on a character's face like a sledgehammer in the middle of a frantic foot race through traffic? I'm making up that specific poetic brush stroke, but he interrupts the flow of his most viscerally entertaining moments way too often.
I'm sorry to say this, because it feels dirty to say, but he's too in love with the English language for his own good.
Which is fine if you want to write a book of poetry, but please, Lord, if you're writing about a high-tempo cross-country car chase, please do not tell us about the roses at the side of the highway. It's just weird.
Skip this one.
July 1, 2009
The two protagonists, Dana and Bridger, were thrust into a horrible situation when Dana's identity was stolen, but the pair really didn't handle the problem realistically or well, which was aggravating to read (Bridger phoning the identity thief--and using his own personal cell to do it, no less--never seemed like a good idea to me). On top of this, the antagonist, about whom every other chapter is devoted, is so unrepentantly evil--absolutely no ambiguity there--that I found him just painfully unpleasant to read. And what a disappointment of an ending! On so many levels.
The plot initially drew me in, but I still found it a slow, frustrating, unexpectedly-boring read. For me, "the chase" became tedious very quickly. If I wasn't so averse to leaving books unfinished, this would have been returned to the library a lot sooner than it was.
The plot initially drew me in, but I still found it a slow, frustrating, unexpectedly-boring read. For me, "the chase" became tedious very quickly. If I wasn't so averse to leaving books unfinished, this would have been returned to the library a lot sooner than it was.
November 28, 2012
Manche Leser meinen, dies sei der schlechteste Boyle, das finde ich gar nicht, dennoch läßt mich dieses Buch zwiegespalten zurück.
Ganz T.C.-untypisch wirft der Autor den Leser sofort direkt in die Geschichte, bereits auf der ersten Seite passiert wesentliches, und das Tempo der Story reisst bis zum Schuss nicht ab. Das ist nicht das typische episch breite Herumgelabere des Autors, und dieser neue Stil hat mich außerordentlich begeistert. Auch das Thema des Romans - Identitätsdiebstahl - ist brandaktuell und kann uns alle treffen, vor allem die Bürger der USA, da nicht mal ein zentrales Melderegister existiert und mit Kreditkarten sehr sorglos ungegangen wird. Gerade weil ein derartiges Verbrechen jedem passieren kann, ist mir völlig unverständlich, warum Boyle als Opfer und Hauptfigur ausgerechnet eine Gehörlose gewählt hat. Eine typisch Benachteiligte - ein sogenanntes Doppelopfer, mit dem sich Otto Normalverbraucher nicht identifizieren kann. Die Geschichte geht in atemberaubenden Tempo weiter, als das Opfer mangels Engagements der Polizei beschliesst, den Täter auf eigene Faust aufzuspüren. Sowohl die Seelenwelt der Jäger als auch die der Gejagten werden ausgezeichnet erforscht, wobei die Rollen mehrmals wechseln. Das Ende hat mich leider gar nicht befriedigt, aber das ist ein sehr persönlicher Standpunkt. Ich wollte mehr Gerechtigkeit - oder Rache? ;-)
Fazit: Sicher nicht der schlechteste Boyle aber untypisch. Sehr schwungvolle spannende Geschichte mit ein paar etwas zu effektheischenden dramatischen Elementen in Plot und Figurenaufbau.
Ganz T.C.-untypisch wirft der Autor den Leser sofort direkt in die Geschichte, bereits auf der ersten Seite passiert wesentliches, und das Tempo der Story reisst bis zum Schuss nicht ab. Das ist nicht das typische episch breite Herumgelabere des Autors, und dieser neue Stil hat mich außerordentlich begeistert. Auch das Thema des Romans - Identitätsdiebstahl - ist brandaktuell und kann uns alle treffen, vor allem die Bürger der USA, da nicht mal ein zentrales Melderegister existiert und mit Kreditkarten sehr sorglos ungegangen wird. Gerade weil ein derartiges Verbrechen jedem passieren kann, ist mir völlig unverständlich, warum Boyle als Opfer und Hauptfigur ausgerechnet eine Gehörlose gewählt hat. Eine typisch Benachteiligte - ein sogenanntes Doppelopfer, mit dem sich Otto Normalverbraucher nicht identifizieren kann. Die Geschichte geht in atemberaubenden Tempo weiter, als das Opfer mangels Engagements der Polizei beschliesst, den Täter auf eigene Faust aufzuspüren. Sowohl die Seelenwelt der Jäger als auch die der Gejagten werden ausgezeichnet erforscht, wobei die Rollen mehrmals wechseln. Das Ende hat mich leider gar nicht befriedigt, aber das ist ein sehr persönlicher Standpunkt. Ich wollte mehr Gerechtigkeit - oder Rache? ;-)
Fazit: Sicher nicht der schlechteste Boyle aber untypisch. Sehr schwungvolle spannende Geschichte mit ein paar etwas zu effektheischenden dramatischen Elementen in Plot und Figurenaufbau.
June 16, 2010
I barely broke through the endless number of the pages of this book. Must admit, I skipped the most of the paragraphs of the last hundred something pages. Full of unnecessary details, like how did a waitress looked at her, what he is cooking today, what did they ate, drink or spot through the car window. And none of that didn`t get us closer to the protagonists or the antagonist. They remained distanced, closed, boring and uninteresting. The title of this book should be `Don`t talk, don`t talk` or `Boring, boring`.
January 18, 2020
2.5 *
July 13, 2022
Review for the 4-CD German language audio version.
Rather annoying, or let's just say *tedious* heroes and villains. Both are rather unplanned in their actions and it's hard to follow their motivations at times. Why the is the deafness of the one characters necessary? Although it's great to have a handicapped MC, it didn't seem to add much to the character, world or plot.
The chase was okay, but not terribly engaging as the villain wasn't terribly engaging and his Russian fiance simply slapable (or that could have been the way the speaker made her sound). The foodie inserts were also not really interesting or needed...except maybe for foodies...and the ending rather a let down.
In general, an okay Boyle. Perhaps the full version would be better. Jan Josef Leifers does his usual excellent job reading.
Rather annoying, or let's just say *tedious* heroes and villains. Both are rather unplanned in their actions and it's hard to follow their motivations at times. Why the is the deafness of the one characters necessary? Although it's great to have a handicapped MC, it didn't seem to add much to the character, world or plot.
The chase was okay, but not terribly engaging as the villain wasn't terribly engaging and his Russian fiance simply slapable (or that could have been the way the speaker made her sound). The foodie inserts were also not really interesting or needed...except maybe for foodies...and the ending rather a let down.
In general, an okay Boyle. Perhaps the full version would be better. Jan Josef Leifers does his usual excellent job reading.
April 19, 2009
i really like the cover of this book. the perfect white teeth, no ridges on the edges, the beautiful red lip. it has nothing to do with the book – the image i mean. or the title. the title has nothing to do with the book either. and you know what? it's a real shame, because i don't know how many good novels there are that depict the deaf experience but, me, i haven't come across any other than this, and t.c. boyle is a great writer who can write intelligently about all sorts of things, but on this one, on the deaf experience, i think he dropped the ball. to be true, you get a little of it. but i'm not sure you get a whole lot more than you could get on your own, thanks to your powers of observations and your deductive skills alone, and i'm pretty sure there IS a lot more to get. so yank a couple of stars for this.
i love the way this guy writes. i have just read Lush Life and i am surprised by how similar the writing styles of boyle and price are. they both write in this breezy, fast, funny, inventive, sardonic, marvelous, unpretentious, gently abrasive style -- people pissed at each other but the writer solidly on the side of the good guys, a solid heart on his sleeve, compassion, kindness. also, both books not missing a chance to jab at the bush regime, the terrible inconvenience of those terrible 8 years. and a passion, which i'm reproducing in this paragraph, for the main clause followed by lots of verb-less or -ing little secondary clauses. it reads like cinnamon butter, if you like cinnamon butter. it drinks like chilled wine, which boyle must like a lot because it's all over this book, and even though i'm not a wine person i found myself really craving some cold bardolino (is bardolino white or red?) on a weathered-tempered wooden deck on a summer day in a green fake-natural canyon in los angeles.
also, i laughed. quite a bit. i mostly laughed at the righteous anger of peck wilson, a violent, impulsive, irrational loser crook who sleeps with the clear conscience of a newborn baby and thinks the world owes him big time. peck is entirely unlikable, but every single description of him is eminently enjoyable, and i think this is no small feat, at least in my book. i detest reading about unlikable characters.
and i laughed at all the slapstick, people getting hurt (see, i'm doing it again: main clause + -ing secondary clauses), banging into each other, crashing against windshields, chasing one another into cul de sacs, slamming on the pavement, getting hurt. and, given the fact that i know that boyle has a boatload of kids whom he very much likes, i liked the venom against that monstrous annoyance that are kids, screaming kids, hungry kids, full-bladdered kids.
okay, so this is one thing you need to know, whether you read this book or not. do not stare at deaf people. do not make faces at them. friendly faces. don't. disabled people are as tired of over-friendliness as they are of abuse. i think. this book claims. and it makes sense to me. i say this because i am this very friendly person who is endlessly fascinated by people and, ALSO, very fascinated by people who speak in Sign. and i love to stare at them. you see, i hope they'll stare back and then i'll be able to smile. maybe join. hopefully join. wouldn't that be a dream? to be part of a deaf conversation, even though i don't know Sign and have never made the slightest effort to learn it? well, NO. memo to self: the deaf are not around to entertain me. they are talking to each other. they are having a conversation. you don't intrude into other people's conversations because they look interesting. remember all the times people come up to you because you have an italian accent, love the sound of it, want to talk to you? it's the same, except worse. don't forget.
i love the way this guy writes. i have just read Lush Life and i am surprised by how similar the writing styles of boyle and price are. they both write in this breezy, fast, funny, inventive, sardonic, marvelous, unpretentious, gently abrasive style -- people pissed at each other but the writer solidly on the side of the good guys, a solid heart on his sleeve, compassion, kindness. also, both books not missing a chance to jab at the bush regime, the terrible inconvenience of those terrible 8 years. and a passion, which i'm reproducing in this paragraph, for the main clause followed by lots of verb-less or -ing little secondary clauses. it reads like cinnamon butter, if you like cinnamon butter. it drinks like chilled wine, which boyle must like a lot because it's all over this book, and even though i'm not a wine person i found myself really craving some cold bardolino (is bardolino white or red?) on a weathered-tempered wooden deck on a summer day in a green fake-natural canyon in los angeles.
also, i laughed. quite a bit. i mostly laughed at the righteous anger of peck wilson, a violent, impulsive, irrational loser crook who sleeps with the clear conscience of a newborn baby and thinks the world owes him big time. peck is entirely unlikable, but every single description of him is eminently enjoyable, and i think this is no small feat, at least in my book. i detest reading about unlikable characters.
and i laughed at all the slapstick, people getting hurt (see, i'm doing it again: main clause + -ing secondary clauses), banging into each other, crashing against windshields, chasing one another into cul de sacs, slamming on the pavement, getting hurt. and, given the fact that i know that boyle has a boatload of kids whom he very much likes, i liked the venom against that monstrous annoyance that are kids, screaming kids, hungry kids, full-bladdered kids.
okay, so this is one thing you need to know, whether you read this book or not. do not stare at deaf people. do not make faces at them. friendly faces. don't. disabled people are as tired of over-friendliness as they are of abuse. i think. this book claims. and it makes sense to me. i say this because i am this very friendly person who is endlessly fascinated by people and, ALSO, very fascinated by people who speak in Sign. and i love to stare at them. you see, i hope they'll stare back and then i'll be able to smile. maybe join. hopefully join. wouldn't that be a dream? to be part of a deaf conversation, even though i don't know Sign and have never made the slightest effort to learn it? well, NO. memo to self: the deaf are not around to entertain me. they are talking to each other. they are having a conversation. you don't intrude into other people's conversations because they look interesting. remember all the times people come up to you because you have an italian accent, love the sound of it, want to talk to you? it's the same, except worse. don't forget.
October 15, 2011
I love TC Boyle, love his richly described worlds, his conflict-ridden rollercoaster plots. This one was definitely worth the headlong plunge, a deaf woman who becomes victim of an identity theft, and the ensuing alternation between her story and that of her lover, a special effects artist who becomes deeply involved in the pursuit of the culprit, and the sociopathic identity thief, another one of Boyle's wonderful narcissist rageaholic antagonists. However, it wasn't a perfect book, in that it lacked that one element--considering the implications of the issues it raised. I would have liked to really think more about identity--not just a paragraph, but to drop the floor down one storey and really consider the issue. Ditto that of the deaf, and their identity--and who am I if I could just get an operation and suddenly be a hearing person. It's a big issue in the deaf community, but it was only touched upon. The pace of the novel, the headlong rush of it, is thus a good thing--kept me in there turning pages with tremendous gusto--but ultimately left me dissatisfied, the import of issues he raised not fully unpacked. It could ahve been both a great read and a deeper philosophic/psychological point of entry--but instead it was only a great read. Well, not so bad a criticism... Working my way through his oeuvre. On to The Women.
July 15, 2017
"Kasnila je, uvijek kasni, to joj je mana, svjesna je, ali nije mogla pronaći torbu, a kad ju je uspjela locirati (ispod plave samtene jakne na vješalici za kapute u predsoblju), nije mogla naći ključeve."
Ovako počinje uradak T. Coraghessana Boylea, svojevrstan psihološki triler o nečemu što čovjek s ovih prostora baš i ne može zamisliti. Kašnjenje i gubitak ključeva bili su mačji kašalj za ono što je toga dana predstojalo Dani Halter, gluhonijemoj profesorici engleskog jezika, u Školi za gluhe u San Roqueu. Činjenica da nije stala na znak STOP nije razlog za uhićenje, ali za Danu to je bio početak noćne more: izdavanje čekova bez pokrića, krađa automobila, posjedovanje opojnih droga, oružani napad, optužbe su se samo nizale...
Bespomoćna Dana bila je zarobljena u zatvoru i u svijetu čujućih ljudi, za koje je bila samo čudovište koje je ispuštalo samo neartikulirane glasove, budući da nije bila gluha od rođenja. Srećom, na svojoj strani imala je dragog čovjeka Martina Bridgera, filmskog crtača za specijalne efekte, koji će također kao i njegova djevojka, postati žrtva krađe identiteta.
Peck Wilson, smeće od čovjeka, živjelo je na tuđi kredit. Kad bi ispraznio račune i kartice jedne osobe, poput sokola bi se ustremio na drugu, uživajući u svemu što mu život pruža. Ali još jedan dokaz da se novcem ne može kupiti sreća je raspad njegova braka i udaljenost od voljene kćeri, zbog boravka u zatvoru. Nova žena u životu postala je samo uteg oko vrata, sretna što je pronašla novu kravu muzaru koja će platiti novu odjeću, šminku, igračke njene kćeri i hrpu nepotrebnih stvari za kuću.
Dana i Martin sami postaju detektivi i kreću u potragu za čovjekom koji im je ukrao identitet, jer pomoći od policije nema, s obzirom da se - koje li ironije - radi o zločinu u kojem nema žrtava.
Preporučujem ovu knjigu, za vrijeme čitanja koje sam se stalno pitala: što bih ja učinila da sam na Daninom mjestu?
Ovako počinje uradak T. Coraghessana Boylea, svojevrstan psihološki triler o nečemu što čovjek s ovih prostora baš i ne može zamisliti. Kašnjenje i gubitak ključeva bili su mačji kašalj za ono što je toga dana predstojalo Dani Halter, gluhonijemoj profesorici engleskog jezika, u Školi za gluhe u San Roqueu. Činjenica da nije stala na znak STOP nije razlog za uhićenje, ali za Danu to je bio početak noćne more: izdavanje čekova bez pokrića, krađa automobila, posjedovanje opojnih droga, oružani napad, optužbe su se samo nizale...
Bespomoćna Dana bila je zarobljena u zatvoru i u svijetu čujućih ljudi, za koje je bila samo čudovište koje je ispuštalo samo neartikulirane glasove, budući da nije bila gluha od rođenja. Srećom, na svojoj strani imala je dragog čovjeka Martina Bridgera, filmskog crtača za specijalne efekte, koji će također kao i njegova djevojka, postati žrtva krađe identiteta.
Peck Wilson, smeće od čovjeka, živjelo je na tuđi kredit. Kad bi ispraznio račune i kartice jedne osobe, poput sokola bi se ustremio na drugu, uživajući u svemu što mu život pruža. Ali još jedan dokaz da se novcem ne može kupiti sreća je raspad njegova braka i udaljenost od voljene kćeri, zbog boravka u zatvoru. Nova žena u životu postala je samo uteg oko vrata, sretna što je pronašla novu kravu muzaru koja će platiti novu odjeću, šminku, igračke njene kćeri i hrpu nepotrebnih stvari za kuću.
Dana i Martin sami postaju detektivi i kreću u potragu za čovjekom koji im je ukrao identitet, jer pomoći od policije nema, s obzirom da se - koje li ironije - radi o zločinu u kojem nema žrtava.
Preporučujem ovu knjigu, za vrijeme čitanja koje sam se stalno pitala: što bih ja učinila da sam na Daninom mjestu?
December 13, 2023
One of Boyle’s lesser works - not as good as Friend of the Earth or World’s End and certainly not of the same caliber as The Road to Wellville or Tortilla Curtain. This one wasn’t my thing and I couldn’t wait to be done with it.
I also found it extremely odd (to the point of distraction) that he recycled a character, Radko, from one of his short stories, The Lie (New Yorker, April 7, 2008). It’s the T.C. Boyle Universe come full circle! Ha.
I also found it extremely odd (to the point of distraction) that he recycled a character, Radko, from one of his short stories, The Lie (New Yorker, April 7, 2008). It’s the T.C. Boyle Universe come full circle! Ha.
July 8, 2009
Does T.C. Boyle ever write a book that isn't simply superb? Unputdownable story of a stolen identity and a mismatched couple with strong undercurrents seething underneath their relationship -- which the oddball turn of events will soon force to the surface.
As to the fact that one of the protagonists is deaf ... I think the characterization of Dana is so strong, that I'm not sure it really *is* about her deafness, really. I mean, there are moments when one appreciates her "otherness" (for me, as a "hearer") -- such as the fact that you cannot tell how far an assailant is behind you if you cannot hear him -- but, on the whole, Boyle seems more interested in exploring her motives and strength of character rather than her physical differences.
Most of Boyle's books (the ones I have read, anyway) have a major protagonist, with the others playing lesser roles -- but this book reminds me more of Tortilla Curtain, where the narrative flicks about between other roles.
Of course, here, rather neatly, the identity -- Dana Halter -- is the same in both cases.
Oh, and this book is also to be recommended if you need some tips on preparing light Italian meals for serving with a fine (predominantly white) wine.
As to the fact that one of the protagonists is deaf ... I think the characterization of Dana is so strong, that I'm not sure it really *is* about her deafness, really. I mean, there are moments when one appreciates her "otherness" (for me, as a "hearer") -- such as the fact that you cannot tell how far an assailant is behind you if you cannot hear him -- but, on the whole, Boyle seems more interested in exploring her motives and strength of character rather than her physical differences.
Most of Boyle's books (the ones I have read, anyway) have a major protagonist, with the others playing lesser roles -- but this book reminds me more of Tortilla Curtain, where the narrative flicks about between other roles.
Of course, here, rather neatly, the identity -- Dana Halter -- is the same in both cases.
Oh, and this book is also to be recommended if you need some tips on preparing light Italian meals for serving with a fine (predominantly white) wine.
May 22, 2020
Ugh I hate to give a book 2 stars but here we are. Read this for book club and definitely not something I would normally choose. It was interesting to read a book from the perspective of a deaf character, which I never have read before. It taught me a lot about the diversity of language and I loved that. Generally I thought it was super slow and dense and the exciting parts were sooooo boring still. Wouldn’t recommend, but would recommend reading a book from a diverse perspective as that was the most interesting part of the book.
September 9, 2025
solid read! t.c. boyle’s writing forces me to focus but in a good way (i’m constantly looking up words in the dictionary lol)
May 12, 2009
The "chase-scene-as-plot-structure" can be an exhausting thing. The chaos, the misunderstandings, the almosts, and coincidences. It can all decompose into a sloppy, cartoonish stink. Racing to finish the book instead of reading and enjoying the tension and feeling the characters' burdens. Typically, I consider this the lazy writing of an author with a to-do list -- a wacky hijinks quota.
"Talk Talk" by TC Boyle is a welcome exception.
It opens with Dana Hartley, a deaf woman who is late for a dentist appointment. She gets pulled over by a cop after a tap-n-go at a stop sign, and is arrested for a litany of crimes: bad checks, auto theft, assault with a deadly weapon. After a weekend in county that forever changes her opinion of the common drunk, she learns that her identity has been stolen. The police have no plans to help her. It's not a bloody crime, but it is a waste of resources. Dana and her boyfriend, a slightly-younger computer graphics guy, try to hunt down the thief.
The thief is a man living as Dana Hartley in a posh home with a beautiful shopoholic and her young daughter. This version of Dana Hartley is a well-dressed foodie with a thing for nice cars. He quickly realizes that he is being hunted. He acts fast, quickly adopting the identity of Bridger Martin and moving across country with his suspicious, albeit pliant girlfriend and daughter.
While this has all the coincidences and accidents and misunderstandings of all "chase scene as plot structure" stories, the added element of the original Dana's deafness adds a level of isolation that the character doesn't seem conscious of -- she's a toughie, and has been schooled in maintaining her independence -- but for the reader feels heavy and tough. Whenever she goes head-to-head with the police, it requires more time and effort. One time, another character calls her a crazy woman and says that she is mentally retarded, which puts the heat on her to prove her innocence, and once again, the thief escapes.
Other interesting plot notes: The thief is indignant that these people would dare hunt him down, which is a nice and honest personality play; and Dana and Bridger are on this hunt early enough into the relationship that Bridger's parents don't even know he has a girlfriend. Their familiarity level still has that new-car smell, and this is an unexpected bath of Drakar.
The ending is hit-or-miss, and I imagine could ruin the book for some.
I'm not going to blow sunshine and say this is the greatest book of all time. It's a fun little read by a good writer that surpasses in quality a lot of other good little reads by good writers.
"Talk Talk" by TC Boyle is a welcome exception.
It opens with Dana Hartley, a deaf woman who is late for a dentist appointment. She gets pulled over by a cop after a tap-n-go at a stop sign, and is arrested for a litany of crimes: bad checks, auto theft, assault with a deadly weapon. After a weekend in county that forever changes her opinion of the common drunk, she learns that her identity has been stolen. The police have no plans to help her. It's not a bloody crime, but it is a waste of resources. Dana and her boyfriend, a slightly-younger computer graphics guy, try to hunt down the thief.
The thief is a man living as Dana Hartley in a posh home with a beautiful shopoholic and her young daughter. This version of Dana Hartley is a well-dressed foodie with a thing for nice cars. He quickly realizes that he is being hunted. He acts fast, quickly adopting the identity of Bridger Martin and moving across country with his suspicious, albeit pliant girlfriend and daughter.
While this has all the coincidences and accidents and misunderstandings of all "chase scene as plot structure" stories, the added element of the original Dana's deafness adds a level of isolation that the character doesn't seem conscious of -- she's a toughie, and has been schooled in maintaining her independence -- but for the reader feels heavy and tough. Whenever she goes head-to-head with the police, it requires more time and effort. One time, another character calls her a crazy woman and says that she is mentally retarded, which puts the heat on her to prove her innocence, and once again, the thief escapes.
Other interesting plot notes: The thief is indignant that these people would dare hunt him down, which is a nice and honest personality play; and Dana and Bridger are on this hunt early enough into the relationship that Bridger's parents don't even know he has a girlfriend. Their familiarity level still has that new-car smell, and this is an unexpected bath of Drakar.
The ending is hit-or-miss, and I imagine could ruin the book for some.
I'm not going to blow sunshine and say this is the greatest book of all time. It's a fun little read by a good writer that surpasses in quality a lot of other good little reads by good writers.
May 28, 2009
After hearing Stephen Colbert read Boyle's short story "The Lie" on NPR's program Selected Shorts I decided to follow more of Boyle's work. I liked Talk Talk because the characters were easily relatable. They're real. They remind me of people I know, or could know, and I even got annoyed with them as I could with any good friend. But I still liked them, even when I didn't like how they behaved. Even the antagonist stuck to the gray areas and while I never really rooted for him, it was often hard not to understand some of his actions. He was human, after all, not the monster any stranger in his shoes would be made out to be.
I can't decide whether or not I liked the ending. I wasn't necessarily expecting a happy Disney-worthy ending, but I would have liked there to be an ending. Instead what I got was the absence of a definitive end. My protagonist gave up, in every sense of the word. The ending was sad, and because of this, I am not quite satisfied. I don't need the fairytale ending, and I didn't expect one in a book where anything could easily happen in real life exactly like it did in the book. But if I'm not getting a fairytale ending, I would at least like to feel like my characters still had hope.
I can't decide whether or not I liked the ending. I wasn't necessarily expecting a happy Disney-worthy ending, but I would have liked there to be an ending. Instead what I got was the absence of a definitive end. My protagonist gave up, in every sense of the word. The ending was sad, and because of this, I am not quite satisfied. I don't need the fairytale ending, and I didn't expect one in a book where anything could easily happen in real life exactly like it did in the book. But if I'm not getting a fairytale ending, I would at least like to feel like my characters still had hope.
February 17, 2018
De eerste pagina’s vind ik echt de moeite waard, maar gaandeweg valt het verhaal in elkaar. Waaraan dat ligt weet ik niet echt. Het onderwerp is goed gekozen, het toont hoe gemakkelijk het is om iemands identiteitsgegevens te stelen en te leven op andermans kosten. Ook het steeds wisselende perspectief vind ik positief. Boyle vertelt het verhaal van de slachtoffers én van de crimineel. De crimineel staat vanaf het begin aan de verkeerde kant, maar eigenlijk is hij ook slachtoffer. Hij kan geen moment van zijn fraude genieten omdat hij voortdurend dreigt ontmaskerd te worden. Alleen al het schouwtoneel dat hij moet opvoeren voor zijn shopverslaafde Oost-Europese vrouw - oh cliché. Niet zo geloofwaardig verhaal met een heel abnormaal einde, toch voor een Amerikaanse thriller. Wel meeslepend en vlot lezend, daarom de drie sterren.
March 2, 2022
The premise of the book is a deaf woman gets her identity stolen and with her boyfriends help they hunt down the dangerous ex felon and conman in order to obtain a measure of justice and closure.
Sounds like it would be a thriller involving some psychological head games where one side tries to outplay the other in cat and mouse battle of wits. Will the wronged get revenge or will the wily conman slip into the fog and shadows to hatch another diabolical plan?
Nope. You get excessive food descriptions (which I could understand, the man was a cook and prided himself on good taste but I don't need to read in a crime novel something I could find in a slightly above average restaurant menu for each and every meal), clothing descriptions (again, same character same vanity, but a good author can establish this in one elaborate paragraph and move on), overblown descriptions on EVERYTHING else as well- how a character feels, would this clerk working a desk be pretty if she wore eye makeup, what color was the interior of the car, so on and so on. Using this technique can be great for pacing or style but awful when you're trying to get through what should be a riveting denouement and the author is telling me what color the cars are and which knee was scraped and how the light looks.
I mean I am sold on solidly crafted characters in fragile relationships confronting a huge unsuspected challenge and examining the toll it takes on them. But this is also a crime novel and a cross country chase with play detecting that leaks any tension it builds like a Goodyear with a shiv stuck in the side. By the end I was dead scanning entire pages so I could see how it ends and not torture myself. It ends with a dull thud with a smear of too sugary icing on top.
Sounds like it would be a thriller involving some psychological head games where one side tries to outplay the other in cat and mouse battle of wits. Will the wronged get revenge or will the wily conman slip into the fog and shadows to hatch another diabolical plan?
Nope. You get excessive food descriptions (which I could understand, the man was a cook and prided himself on good taste but I don't need to read in a crime novel something I could find in a slightly above average restaurant menu for each and every meal), clothing descriptions (again, same character same vanity, but a good author can establish this in one elaborate paragraph and move on), overblown descriptions on EVERYTHING else as well- how a character feels, would this clerk working a desk be pretty if she wore eye makeup, what color was the interior of the car, so on and so on. Using this technique can be great for pacing or style but awful when you're trying to get through what should be a riveting denouement and the author is telling me what color the cars are and which knee was scraped and how the light looks.
I mean I am sold on solidly crafted characters in fragile relationships confronting a huge unsuspected challenge and examining the toll it takes on them. But this is also a crime novel and a cross country chase with play detecting that leaks any tension it builds like a Goodyear with a shiv stuck in the side. By the end I was dead scanning entire pages so I could see how it ends and not torture myself. It ends with a dull thud with a smear of too sugary icing on top.
June 17, 2009
The exposition's a bit weak, and that leaves one questioning from the start the reality of a work that is trying to explore how people manufacture their own realities (and then how those realities clash with the realities of others). On that level the thing felt unfinished; the necessary work hadn't been done, but you could see how with a bit more polishing it would have been delicious all the way through.
Whenever I suspended my disbelief for five minutes, a puppet string would be left showing or some aspect would seem make-believe or put on to achieve some higher authorial purpose. That was frustrating. But said higher purpose--which included a somewhat rudimentary philosophical exercise, and a much more robust but only flimsily-veiled showcase for the author to show off and revel in his love of language--was entertaining.
Some degree of concern for these characters and their well being, and full enjoyment of how this guy puts words through their paces, meant I finished this a lot faster than usual for me. Took just a few days. As the trope goes, I couldn't put it down.
Whenever I suspended my disbelief for five minutes, a puppet string would be left showing or some aspect would seem make-believe or put on to achieve some higher authorial purpose. That was frustrating. But said higher purpose--which included a somewhat rudimentary philosophical exercise, and a much more robust but only flimsily-veiled showcase for the author to show off and revel in his love of language--was entertaining.
Some degree of concern for these characters and their well being, and full enjoyment of how this guy puts words through their paces, meant I finished this a lot faster than usual for me. Took just a few days. As the trope goes, I couldn't put it down.
Read
February 5, 2009In his 18th book of fiction, T. C. Boyle wildly impresses some critics (as he often does) but leaves a few critics wanting more. The slick, page-turning plot becomes "sadly undermined by a forced, slap-dash ending that feels as if it had been grafted on at the last minute" (New York Times). That aside, Boyle's first entry in the suspense genre is a welcome addition that showcases his rich characterizations and high-flying prose. In Talk Talk, the ease of assuming a new identity appears frighteningly simple, while the annoyances of life for the hearing-impaired ring loud and clear.
This is an excerpt from a review published in Bookmarks magazine.
May 23, 2017
Finally managed to finish it after 2 years. I skimmed huge chunks of it, truth be told. I wanted to read it because back in the day I wanted to write a similar story (identity theft). However, since then, I've lost interest in writing that story so this book is no longer relevant as research material. The writing is slow and there are oh so many details the book can do without. I'm putting it on my unhaul pile.
April 13, 2024
Wild ride with some great writing. It takes some work to make a reader enjoy a book filled with two competing unlikable, selfish characters.
I feel like someone dared Boyle to make a typically sympathetic character — a beautiful, deaf, hard-working female character who was a victim of a crime — as unlikable as the obviously-reader-should-hate criminal. And he did it. And subtly. What a good and surprising read.
Also a good alternative for an abnormal slightly messed up road trip read.
I feel like someone dared Boyle to make a typically sympathetic character — a beautiful, deaf, hard-working female character who was a victim of a crime — as unlikable as the obviously-reader-should-hate criminal. And he did it. And subtly. What a good and surprising read.
Also a good alternative for an abnormal slightly messed up road trip read.
March 24, 2011
Nice idea, but this was like too many stories where coincidence played too much of a part and it became just unbelievable. The characters were very one-dimensional and I basically slogged through waiting for something to happen or for some reveal as to why this or that... I'm even disinterested in the review. Just left me with nothing in the end.
September 25, 2009
This book is about a deaf gal being a victim of identity theft and trying to reclaim it. I enjoyed the first half of the book but the second half started to drag (at least for me). I was anxiously hurrying to finish it so I didn't enjoy it as much as I did with the first half.
October 31, 2007
I really enjoyed this book and liked it better than Drop City. It was a quick read and and a page-turner. And thought some might not like the ending, I did.
November 17, 2013
If stories about missing government laptops and hacked databases have got you shredding your bank statements and paying cash at restaurants, brace yourself for another jolt of paranoia. T. Coraghessan Boyle's new novel about identity theft is so perfectly aligned with the day's news that the FBI should search his house for stolen credit cards. Talk Talk grabs hold of the fragile structures that establish who we are and what we own and shakes them apart. Considering Boyle's recent subjects -- sex research (The Inner Circle), hippies (Drop City), environmental apocalypse (A Friend of the Earth) -- it's remarkable that his most exciting novel yet should focus on the tedium of ruined credit scores and fraudulent drivers' licenses. But Talk Talk benefits from Boyle's highbrow/lowbrow style: He knows how to drill down through the surface of everyday life into our core anxieties, and he knows how to write constantly charging, heart-thumping chase scenes.
"She was running late," the novel opens, and she and the novel rarely stop running for the next 340 pages. Dana Halter is a deaf woman and a proud, conscientious teacher at a school for the deaf. When a police officer stops her for driving through a red light one morning, her main concern is that she'll miss an appointment. But then she sees him in the rearview mirror, gun drawn, barking orders at her. In a flash he yanks her from the car, shoves her face into the hood and clamps cuffs on her. "He was brisk, brutal, sparing nothing," Boyle writes. "There might have been questions, orders, a meliorating softness in his tone, but she couldn't hear and she couldn't see his face -- and her hands, her hands were caught like fish on a stringer." For Dana, this is the beginning of a life-wrecking encounter with local government -- an experience made all the more Kafkaesque by the fact that no one is willing to listen to her toneless speech or speak to her in a way she can understand. "There must be some mistake," she keeps yelling. "Don't you know who I am?"
That question haunts the entire novel. Boyle begins with the merely bureaucratic elements of identity, but soon he teases out the more profound ramifications of who we are and how we prove it. Just by dragging Dana into the station and chaining her to a bench, the police transform her from a respected teacher of the deaf, with a PhD in English literature, to a "freak of nature, a talking dolphin or a ventriloquist's dummy come to life . . . just another criminal -- another perp -- one more worthless case to be locked away and ignored." When someone who speaks sign language finally arrives, Dana learns that she's wanted in multiple counties, over two states, for crimes ranging from auto theft to possession of a controlled substance to assault with a deadly weapon. It's clear that she's a victim of identity theft -- those warrants for Dana Halter are for a man, after all -- but the humiliation she suffers is no less real, and the wheels of justice must keep turning through the correct procedures no matter how senseless. "The onus is on you to defend yourself," a counselor tells Dana.
Boyle is very good at choreographing the ghastly cascade of complications that can bury a person. With the same research and descriptive skill that's allowed him to bring historical periods alive, he takes us to those ordinary, contemporary places we all know about but rarely see: the county jail, the criminal courtroom, the impound yard, that great tangle of legal services that we're vaguely in favor of -- if we're aware of them at all -- until we're snagged up in them ourselves and robbed of that most precious commodity: time.
Because she's arrested on a Friday, Dana ends up spending the weekend in jail, a frightening experience that inflames her with a deep rage. When she finally arrives back at school, she's fired, which makes her anger burn even hotter. Determined to track down the man who caused all these problems, she asks her boyfriend, a special-effects artist named Bridger Martin, for help. How marvelously apropos that when Bridger gets her call, he's busy "working on a head replacement" -- using a computer to superimpose the face of an actor over the white helmet of a stuntman. It's a witty expression of Boyle's larger theme about the instability of identity, a theme he fleshes out in fascinating ways once Dana and Bridger begin their cross-country search for the man who ruined her life.
At this point, the novel begins periodically switching to the story of William "Peck" Wilson, who has been using the name Dana Halter for the past two years. Boyle followed this structure in what remains his most popular novel, The Tortilla Curtain, as he moved back and forth between the tales of a Mexican immigrant and a frightened suburbanite, but here the antagonists would seem to be on very different moral grounds, a situation that makes his treatment of the criminal that much more provocative.
Peck is a tough, proud man who lost his daughter and restaurant in an acrimonious divorce and learned the simple tricks of identity theft in prison. (Looking for quick cash? Boyle lays out these techniques with helpful clarity.) When we meet Peck, he's living well on strangers' credit, all easily accessed over the Internet: "His money was good," Boyle writes, "he tipped large, he always dressed in a nice Armani jacket when he came in for dinner and his girlfriend was a knockout." He wants nothing more than to feel "the quiet seep of fulfillment and domestic bliss." After all, he's only taking those Army recruitment ads one step further: "Be anybody you can be." As Dana and Bridger close in on him, it's not just his clothes, his car and his beautiful condo that are at risk, it's his sense of himself as a respected, successful person. Yes, he's a hothead, a snob and a thief, but Talk Talk works because Boyle brings us in close enough to smell Peck sweat. His refined tastes are our tastes, his suburban dreams are our dreams, his professional aspirations are our aspirations -- the only problem is that his money is our money.
In Boyle's daringly sympathetic portrayal, Peck is just as outraged at Dana and Bridger as they are at him. "He hated being forced out," Boyle writes, "hated the miserable interfering sons of bitches who'd come after him and turned everything upside down." The law may be on their side, but Peck's not giving up without a fight, and he knows a lot more about fighting than either the English teacher or the computer nerd. In the alternating chases that threaten exposure or violence, the excitement is not so much doubled as squared.
Even in the midst of these tire-squealing scenes, though, Boyle keeps sounding out the issues that deepen this novel. For all her justified outrage at Peck's illicit way of life, Dana is engaged in her own conflicted program of personal revision: She proudly insists that being deaf is an integral part of her identity, a part she wouldn't change, a part Bridger must accept and love. "This is me," she pleads with him. But at the same time, she has devoted all her energy to passing as a hearing person. Her bitterest moments come when she realizes that someone she's talking to has detected her difference.
The current perils of Internet security give Talk Talk a timely hook, but there's nothing ephemeral about the novel. After all, one of the oldest stories in Western culture turns on identity theft and credit fraud. When Jacob put that goat skin on his arms and tricked his father into giving him the blessing meant for Esau, the problem wasn't poor password protection; it was our insatiable desire to be and have more than we deserve. In this bracing novel, Boyle makes that problem loud and clear.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/...
"She was running late," the novel opens, and she and the novel rarely stop running for the next 340 pages. Dana Halter is a deaf woman and a proud, conscientious teacher at a school for the deaf. When a police officer stops her for driving through a red light one morning, her main concern is that she'll miss an appointment. But then she sees him in the rearview mirror, gun drawn, barking orders at her. In a flash he yanks her from the car, shoves her face into the hood and clamps cuffs on her. "He was brisk, brutal, sparing nothing," Boyle writes. "There might have been questions, orders, a meliorating softness in his tone, but she couldn't hear and she couldn't see his face -- and her hands, her hands were caught like fish on a stringer." For Dana, this is the beginning of a life-wrecking encounter with local government -- an experience made all the more Kafkaesque by the fact that no one is willing to listen to her toneless speech or speak to her in a way she can understand. "There must be some mistake," she keeps yelling. "Don't you know who I am?"
That question haunts the entire novel. Boyle begins with the merely bureaucratic elements of identity, but soon he teases out the more profound ramifications of who we are and how we prove it. Just by dragging Dana into the station and chaining her to a bench, the police transform her from a respected teacher of the deaf, with a PhD in English literature, to a "freak of nature, a talking dolphin or a ventriloquist's dummy come to life . . . just another criminal -- another perp -- one more worthless case to be locked away and ignored." When someone who speaks sign language finally arrives, Dana learns that she's wanted in multiple counties, over two states, for crimes ranging from auto theft to possession of a controlled substance to assault with a deadly weapon. It's clear that she's a victim of identity theft -- those warrants for Dana Halter are for a man, after all -- but the humiliation she suffers is no less real, and the wheels of justice must keep turning through the correct procedures no matter how senseless. "The onus is on you to defend yourself," a counselor tells Dana.
Boyle is very good at choreographing the ghastly cascade of complications that can bury a person. With the same research and descriptive skill that's allowed him to bring historical periods alive, he takes us to those ordinary, contemporary places we all know about but rarely see: the county jail, the criminal courtroom, the impound yard, that great tangle of legal services that we're vaguely in favor of -- if we're aware of them at all -- until we're snagged up in them ourselves and robbed of that most precious commodity: time.
Because she's arrested on a Friday, Dana ends up spending the weekend in jail, a frightening experience that inflames her with a deep rage. When she finally arrives back at school, she's fired, which makes her anger burn even hotter. Determined to track down the man who caused all these problems, she asks her boyfriend, a special-effects artist named Bridger Martin, for help. How marvelously apropos that when Bridger gets her call, he's busy "working on a head replacement" -- using a computer to superimpose the face of an actor over the white helmet of a stuntman. It's a witty expression of Boyle's larger theme about the instability of identity, a theme he fleshes out in fascinating ways once Dana and Bridger begin their cross-country search for the man who ruined her life.
At this point, the novel begins periodically switching to the story of William "Peck" Wilson, who has been using the name Dana Halter for the past two years. Boyle followed this structure in what remains his most popular novel, The Tortilla Curtain, as he moved back and forth between the tales of a Mexican immigrant and a frightened suburbanite, but here the antagonists would seem to be on very different moral grounds, a situation that makes his treatment of the criminal that much more provocative.
Peck is a tough, proud man who lost his daughter and restaurant in an acrimonious divorce and learned the simple tricks of identity theft in prison. (Looking for quick cash? Boyle lays out these techniques with helpful clarity.) When we meet Peck, he's living well on strangers' credit, all easily accessed over the Internet: "His money was good," Boyle writes, "he tipped large, he always dressed in a nice Armani jacket when he came in for dinner and his girlfriend was a knockout." He wants nothing more than to feel "the quiet seep of fulfillment and domestic bliss." After all, he's only taking those Army recruitment ads one step further: "Be anybody you can be." As Dana and Bridger close in on him, it's not just his clothes, his car and his beautiful condo that are at risk, it's his sense of himself as a respected, successful person. Yes, he's a hothead, a snob and a thief, but Talk Talk works because Boyle brings us in close enough to smell Peck sweat. His refined tastes are our tastes, his suburban dreams are our dreams, his professional aspirations are our aspirations -- the only problem is that his money is our money.
In Boyle's daringly sympathetic portrayal, Peck is just as outraged at Dana and Bridger as they are at him. "He hated being forced out," Boyle writes, "hated the miserable interfering sons of bitches who'd come after him and turned everything upside down." The law may be on their side, but Peck's not giving up without a fight, and he knows a lot more about fighting than either the English teacher or the computer nerd. In the alternating chases that threaten exposure or violence, the excitement is not so much doubled as squared.
Even in the midst of these tire-squealing scenes, though, Boyle keeps sounding out the issues that deepen this novel. For all her justified outrage at Peck's illicit way of life, Dana is engaged in her own conflicted program of personal revision: She proudly insists that being deaf is an integral part of her identity, a part she wouldn't change, a part Bridger must accept and love. "This is me," she pleads with him. But at the same time, she has devoted all her energy to passing as a hearing person. Her bitterest moments come when she realizes that someone she's talking to has detected her difference.
The current perils of Internet security give Talk Talk a timely hook, but there's nothing ephemeral about the novel. After all, one of the oldest stories in Western culture turns on identity theft and credit fraud. When Jacob put that goat skin on his arms and tricked his father into giving him the blessing meant for Esau, the problem wasn't poor password protection; it was our insatiable desire to be and have more than we deserve. In this bracing novel, Boyle makes that problem loud and clear.
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April 11, 2020
Katz und Maus Wechselspiel rund um Identitätsdiebstahl und einer Gehörlosen im Zentrum, deren GebärdenGefühlswelt noch den Hauptanreiz im Buch darstellt.
Denn explizit Thriller oder Lovestory ist es nicht, vielmehr ein Genremix mit Spannungspassagen, Gehörlosen vs Betrüger Milieu und Beziehungsliebelei unter erschwerten Bedingungen;
Denn explizit Thriller oder Lovestory ist es nicht, vielmehr ein Genremix mit Spannungspassagen, Gehörlosen vs Betrüger Milieu und Beziehungsliebelei unter erschwerten Bedingungen;
March 26, 2023
Another great TC Boyle book. I learned more about the life of deaf people than I could imagine. The basic story and vocabulary was exceptional as TC Boyle does it for me again. What an amazing Author !
June 30, 2024
Wel een goed boek. De karakters zijn niet per definitie sympathiek, ook al zijn ze slachtoffer. Het gelijk oplopen van de daders belevenissen ende slachtoffers was een goede zet.
Het einde?. Een beetje wat je kunt verwachten van een verhaal dat toch ergens moet stoppen. Met plezier gelezen.
Het einde?. Een beetje wat je kunt verwachten van een verhaal dat toch ergens moet stoppen. Met plezier gelezen.
September 23, 2012
You never know what to expect when you pick up a book by T.C. Boyle. In the case of TALK TALK, I was totally misled by the log line: There's more than one way to take a life. Murder, I thought. However, the triggering event in this novel is not murder, but identity theft.
The victim, Dr. Dana Halter, is a fiercely independent deaf woman who teaches literature, a Type-A personality determined to control her own destiny. When she's stopped for running a red light, the police discover she's wanted for fraud, and she spends a miserable weekend in jail, then loses her job as a result. She's as overwhelmed by the injustice and inhumanity of her situation as she is by her physical plight. Once she's released, she enlists her hearing boyfriend Bridger Martin in a cross-country quest to find and punish the person who ruined her.
Peck Wilson knows he deserves a better life than his lower-class background allows. So he appropriates what he feels rightfully belongs to him, by assuming the identities of wealthier individuals. He's a gourmet chef, a wine connoisseur, a martial arts expert, a financial wizard. He enjoys the finer things in life - his sexy Russian girlfriend Natalya, his BMW, his vintage riverside mansion - and he believes he deserves them. As Dana and Bridger manage, against all odds, to track him down, he vows to squash them like the despicable vermin they are.
The story kept me guessing until the very last page. After I closed the book (with an exclamation of satisfaction), I began to appreciate Boyle's literary brilliance. Boyle's writing is vivid, funny, surprising and emotionally affecting by turns. Meanwhile, the underlying structure of the book has a sort of Aristotelian symmetry that's very pleasing. Although Peck is a true villain, almost a psychopath, he's very like Dana. Both are acutely sensitive to sights, smells and textures. (Boyle does an great job conveying the inner life of someone who cannot hear.) Both are driven by a fierce desire to achieve, though the objects of their desires are very different. The two main characters reflect one another's strengths and weaknesses.
Highly recommended.
The victim, Dr. Dana Halter, is a fiercely independent deaf woman who teaches literature, a Type-A personality determined to control her own destiny. When she's stopped for running a red light, the police discover she's wanted for fraud, and she spends a miserable weekend in jail, then loses her job as a result. She's as overwhelmed by the injustice and inhumanity of her situation as she is by her physical plight. Once she's released, she enlists her hearing boyfriend Bridger Martin in a cross-country quest to find and punish the person who ruined her.
Peck Wilson knows he deserves a better life than his lower-class background allows. So he appropriates what he feels rightfully belongs to him, by assuming the identities of wealthier individuals. He's a gourmet chef, a wine connoisseur, a martial arts expert, a financial wizard. He enjoys the finer things in life - his sexy Russian girlfriend Natalya, his BMW, his vintage riverside mansion - and he believes he deserves them. As Dana and Bridger manage, against all odds, to track him down, he vows to squash them like the despicable vermin they are.
The story kept me guessing until the very last page. After I closed the book (with an exclamation of satisfaction), I began to appreciate Boyle's literary brilliance. Boyle's writing is vivid, funny, surprising and emotionally affecting by turns. Meanwhile, the underlying structure of the book has a sort of Aristotelian symmetry that's very pleasing. Although Peck is a true villain, almost a psychopath, he's very like Dana. Both are acutely sensitive to sights, smells and textures. (Boyle does an great job conveying the inner life of someone who cannot hear.) Both are driven by a fierce desire to achieve, though the objects of their desires are very different. The two main characters reflect one another's strengths and weaknesses.
Highly recommended.
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