It's hard to describe the exact feeling of growing up female, in/around upper-middle-class suburbs, post-9/11, and pre-Obama, and the grotesqueness of this alienation, and the midwestern ignorance-is-bliss attitude. Kate Zambreno achieves a description of this feeling, through O Fallen Angel. The experimental and explosive contents of this book will forever be a commentary reference text for the early 2000s period of my life. Dealing with real pain ~ Iraq war, gender role prisons, mental health stuff, blah ~ is replaced with obsessive viewings of The Bachelor while eating snack mix, wearing a Juicy track suit, no shit. This book is told in a triptych: there's Mommy, manic uppity housewife of nightmares, obese and repressed, religious and racist, deteriorating but thinking she's "happy". Maggie, her bipolar daughter who betrayed her by moving to Chicago to study psychology at college, is obsessed with a self-destructive masochistic sex, becomes addicted to her schizo meds, etc. Maggie reminds me a lot of me and my "alt" girl friends, growing up in safe and loving families, and feeling hurt and pain, not really knowing why. (Some of my female friends were mis-diagnosed by doctors as bipolar, just bc of wild emotional breakdowns in our 20s.) Then there's Malachi, a prophet holding poetic signs for peace over the highway, a reference to a real anti-Iraq-war activist who burned to death in Chicago in 2006. All of these characters are so separate, in their separate chapters, never actually dealing or facing each other, or knowing each other. When they do, they watch each other fall apart. The success of this very short novel (I read it in one sitting) is how sometimes the writing is so much, so bad, it could have come straight out of their amateur housewife/emo-girl diaries ~ the wild shitty-ness of it all, the horrible feeling of being alive.