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Paint it Black
Josie Tyrell, art model, runaway, and denizen of LA's rock scene finds a chance at real love with Michael Faraday, a Harvard dropout and son of a renowned pianist. But when she receives a call from the coroner, asking her to identify her lover's body, her bright dreams all turn to black.
As Josie struggles to understand Michael's death and to hold onto the world they shared, she is both attracted to and repelled by his pianist mother, Meredith, who blames Josie for her son's torment. Soon the two women are drawn into a twisted relationship that reflects equal parts distrust and blind need.
With the luxurious prose and fever pitch intensity that are her hallmarks, Janet Fitch weaves a spellbinding tale of love, betrayal, and the possibility of transcendence.
As Josie struggles to understand Michael's death and to hold onto the world they shared, she is both attracted to and repelled by his pianist mother, Meredith, who blames Josie for her son's torment. Soon the two women are drawn into a twisted relationship that reflects equal parts distrust and blind need.
With the luxurious prose and fever pitch intensity that are her hallmarks, Janet Fitch weaves a spellbinding tale of love, betrayal, and the possibility of transcendence.
387 pages, Hardcover
First published September 18, 2006
533 people are currently reading
11053 people want to read
About the author
Janet Fitch
25 books89k followersJanet Fitch was born in Los Angeles, a third-generation native, and grew up in a family of voracious readers. As an undergraduate at Reed College, Fitch had decided to become an historian, attracted to its powerful narratives, the scope of events, the colossal personalities, and the potency and breadth of its themes. But when she won a student exchange to Keele University in England, where her passion for Russian history led her, she awoke in the middle of the night on her twenty-first birthday with the revelation she wanted to write fiction. "I wanted to Live, not spend my life in a library. Of course, my conception of being a writer was to wear a cape and have Adventures." She has acquired a couple of capes since then, and a few adventures. And books.
Her current novels, THE REVOLUTION OF MARINA M. and CHIMES OF A LOST CATHEDRAL paint a portrait of a young poet coming of age during the Russian Revolution. Her last novel PAINT IT BLACK was made into a feature film, available on NETFLIX. Her novel WHITE OLEANDER was an Oprah Book Club pick and made into a motion picture.
Her current novels, THE REVOLUTION OF MARINA M. and CHIMES OF A LOST CATHEDRAL paint a portrait of a young poet coming of age during the Russian Revolution. Her last novel PAINT IT BLACK was made into a feature film, available on NETFLIX. Her novel WHITE OLEANDER was an Oprah Book Club pick and made into a motion picture.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,204 reviews
December 20, 2014
thought it was about time to add Paint it Black to my books... I have read it, a few times!
Still like it. The aftermath of a suicide in 1980 punk rock LA, picks up all my favorite obsessions: the artist's struggle, the war between permission and perfection in creative life, California and Los Angeles history, a young woman's search for the authentic self, the music of language, the vulnerability of soulful people in a materialistic world--and the poisonous effect of a narcissistic parent on a sensitive child, in this case a mother/son family romance.
*****************
It began as a short story inspired by the Bergman movie 'Persona'. It centers around a girl whose boyfriend has committed suicide in his mother's house… a moldering Los Feliz mansion which recalled a house I'd visited as a child and never forgot…She shows up to see where they boy killed himself. The mother, exhausted by grief, allows the girl in. The girl spends some time in the closet where he hung himself. When the girl comes down from the boy's room, the mother starts talking to her--and in the conversation, begins to address her as if she is the boy.. And when the girl answers as him, you know she's never going to leave that house. A nice dark, gothic short story.
Now, in a curious chain of circumstance, the novel that grew out of the short story that was inspired by the Bergman film, is itself going to be a movie. Full circle. Can't wait to see how it will play out!
Still like it. The aftermath of a suicide in 1980 punk rock LA, picks up all my favorite obsessions: the artist's struggle, the war between permission and perfection in creative life, California and Los Angeles history, a young woman's search for the authentic self, the music of language, the vulnerability of soulful people in a materialistic world--and the poisonous effect of a narcissistic parent on a sensitive child, in this case a mother/son family romance.
*****************
It began as a short story inspired by the Bergman movie 'Persona'. It centers around a girl whose boyfriend has committed suicide in his mother's house… a moldering Los Feliz mansion which recalled a house I'd visited as a child and never forgot…She shows up to see where they boy killed himself. The mother, exhausted by grief, allows the girl in. The girl spends some time in the closet where he hung himself. When the girl comes down from the boy's room, the mother starts talking to her--and in the conversation, begins to address her as if she is the boy.. And when the girl answers as him, you know she's never going to leave that house. A nice dark, gothic short story.
Now, in a curious chain of circumstance, the novel that grew out of the short story that was inspired by the Bergman film, is itself going to be a movie. Full circle. Can't wait to see how it will play out!
August 19, 2007
I guess that, in light of so many boo's and hissses, I must somehow make an apology for my 5 stars. I don't care about the story. Janet Fitch could write the evening news and I would read it. Maybe the story fell somewhat flat, maybe Josie was a little predictable, but most stories are this way & as I said before, I could care less. The use of language is so very poignant. I would read a paragraph, a chapter if I could, and stop...letting the words saturate, find their mark and, time and again, devastate me. Yes, a very emotional response...but it was a very emotional book. The poetry of the prose, the rhythmic destruction and salvation, and the almost too sappy sensitivity is saved by the honesty, vulgarity and grit of grief. I loved this book. I believe the use of words was above and beyond "White Oleander", the story be damned.
September 22, 2025
So okay, this is what you do. Here's what. Pick up this book, open it in the middle, splitting it wide. Then put your face right in there. Inhale. And Breathe in LA, as everyone in this book comes alive.
Los Angeles has always been a bit animated in Fitch's stories, like an additional character and sometimes, even the main one. She enlivens her city in a way that you feel everything, every single thing in it. What her characters go through, stays with you even after there are no more pages left to read.
This is more than just a LA novel though, but it is LA through and through. I kept expecting to run into Warpaint and Little Red Lung (I am listening to them right now. They are fantastical and quite fantastic)
I got my first surprise when I realized this book wasn't as much about the touted out LA rock scene as it was about art and artists, really. And it was about wanting to be an artist regardless of clearly not being one. I don't think our hot yet grounded MC went to many concerts, just one, barely. Maybe?
What did irritate me was the main character's lovelornness. I didn't doubt Josie's love for Michael. I just wasn't convinced whether I should care about it. She went on and on about how she killed the thing she loved. It became redundant. But that's how you murder something isn't it, by loving them. When you do that you kill them. Simple. They are never the thing you imagined you liked in the first place, anyhow. But then again, the death of things affects everyone differently and Josie was dealing with the deaths of too many things.
However, Fitch had drawn this intensity that Josie had, from her personal experience. That is something I can appreciate.
What I admire most about Josie, apart from her toughness, is that she thought she was uncultured but that didn't turn out to be the case. She was refined, almost unwittingly. She was intelligent in spite of herself.
I liked her ending. Oddly enough, it was optimistic and above all, realistic. OK, sure. All the characters had stories, they were full of them but there wasn't a story here. So I can see how this might turn off some readers. There isn't a single story here. Even though there were many ongoing ones that needed their endings.
Paint it Black wasn't about a Girl in a Village, it dealt heavily with loss. One more thing, though this book might not help you with your bereavement. But it will make you feel a little less alone about your loss.
I feel like I should review this longer. But I am not going to. I'll starve you first and then overfeed you my words.
But know that Janet Fitch's words are my absolute favorite. She is special to me for another reason. Fitch introduced me to someone who was destined to be my lifelong friend. You know who you are, thank you, and I love you. For so many things, especially for you being you.
Oh, I came across one of my favorite words in this book, so many times. That was sweet. Am I going to tell you what that word is? Nope. Read me and find out.
Another thing. Those looking to find real women writers shouldn't look any further than Janet Fitch. She can write. An understatement.
Addendum: Since this was about music and art, I'll make a playlist. Of my favorite songsters and artists.
Music/bands :
1. Warpaint
2. Aurora
3. Bullet for my Valentine
4. Little Red Lung
5. Civil Twilight
6. Evanescence
7. Green day
8. Giorgio Moroder
9. Lauren Auilina
10. James Vincent McMorrow
11. Grace
12. Amy Lee
13. Chris Cornell
14. Jenny lee lindberg
15. Ramin Djawadi
16. Slipknot
17. 30 Seconds To Mars
18. Audioslave
19. System of a Down
20. Imagine Dragons
21. Wintersleep
22. KONGOS
23. Fozzy
24. The Capistrano Birds
25. Nova Heart
26. Louise And The Pins
27. Of Monsters and Men
28. Sigur Rós
29. Wardruna
30. The Dubliners
31. Slainte Mhath
32. The Notwist
33. Ronan Hardiman
34. A Tribe Called Red
35. OMNIA
Como poden per sas culpas, Cantiga 166.
Favorite artists :
Hasan Abbas
1. Chiara Bautista
2. Adrian Borda
3. Miles Johnston
4. Serge Marshennikov
5. Stefan Celic
6. Charmaine Olivia
7. Terri Foss
8. Duma Arantes
9. Shehzil Malik
10. Gustave Doré
11. Salvador Dalí
12. Cyril Van Der Haegen
13. John Collier
14. Laura Makabresku. Like my favorite girl, I saved the best one for last.
15. Hailey Wait aka Piigss. Because our Aurora loves her and I want my Moon.
16. Andrea Kiss - Artist. Awesome vision.
17. Magdalena Franczuk. Such imaginations.
18. Marta Bevacqua Photography.
19. Mara Illustration & Crafts.
20. Bahamas Girl.
21. Elena Kalis Underwater Photography.
22. Dolldrums.
23. Kat Irlin. AKA Kat in NYC. One of my favorite, favorite artists. Her instagram is something else.
24. Robert M Ball. Beautiful Death.
25. Annie Murphy-Robinson.
26. Emma Leone Palmer.
27. Tanya Shatseva.
28. Loui Jover.
29. Natalia Drepina Photography.
30. Darker Days Illustrations.
31. The Madd Hattr Joel Santana.
32. Sus Blanco photography.
33. Sylvie Facon Creatrice France.
34. Bozvision.
35. Justin O'Neal Art.
36. Kiararcphotography.
37. Jessyka Cheyenne Guarapuava.
38. Nat Jones Art.
39. Mister Caitlin / Caitlin T McCormack.
40. Christopher Lovell Art.
41. Shana Levenson.
42. iamnashnyc.
43. Jana Brike.
44. Deniz Kutluk / dearistanbul.
45. Brittany Hanks.
46. Piersparello.
47. Maxime Taccardi (Artworks)
48. Laura Woermke artist.
49. Patrick Ennis - Artist. (April 2018)
50. Victoria Morphine Art (love her artwork)
51. Alexandra Sophie Photography.
52. Linnea Strid.
53. Alexandra Bochkareva Photography.
54. Ivana Besevic. Best one yet, a distinctive style, and a personal favorite. And because we love her, even though we do not love each other and one another. Aug 2019.
Codicil: I know it took forever but the Paint It Black movie is finally coming out on 19 May 2017. Mark the date. Directed by the always poetic and lovely Amber Tamblyn. Even though I am definitely not happy about the choice for the main lead. Not my Josie. I feel Tamzin Merchant is better suited for the role. Just my opinion. Still, nonetheless, I am very excited about it.
God, I love this book and Fitch's amazing wordlings. But sometimes I do feel like an octopus being cooked in my own ink.
June 12, 2007
I give up. I can't finish this book. I struggled for 175 pages, but I just can't do it any more. I expected much more from the author of "White Oleander," especially with reviewers calling it a "page-turner" (Elle Magazine, did we read the same book?) and positive quotes from The Atlantic Monthly, of all things. This reminded me of "Intuition" but much worse, in the sense that the sporadic dialogue and action are interspersed with lengthy descriptive paragraphs about the main character's inner life, as opposed to writing a punchy novel where the reader can intuit all that. With all that description, I felt that Fitch failed to give her main character any personality (no, extensive cursing does not qualify as characterization; nor do annoying speech habits like calling vodka and cigarettes "voddy" and "ciggies"). I understood that she wanted to depict the character's mourning in its full, raw sense, but I think she went too far -- with all the drinking, tearfulness, and inner dialogue, the book was way slow and very depressing with no hint at eventual redemption.
June 9, 2007
Many students of great literature will never touch Paint It Black, largely due to the lazy assumption that the work of any author singled out by Oprah’s Book Club best belongs in the hands of mawkish stay-at-home mothers. Fitch’s second novel is not sentimental. An artist’s suicide marks the start of the narrative, and it is refreshing how skillfully Fitch handles the tragedy. It is never treated romantically as so much art obfuscates the plain fact that death is a cold period, not an exclamation point to a genius’s life, or a harmless question that can be tossed about the mind on a drive to work. The tragic and the triumphant are often mistaken, and Paint It Black helps readers see the two not as opposites, but as cross-stitched seams that dash and dart through one another intersecting regularly. This novel is great. Many pages do not sing, and several passages are expected and fall flat like bad jokes. Yet the book is great still, proving that any special novel is an intangible whole much greater than the sum of its sentences. The protagonist is mired in grief throughout the entirety of the book, and Fitch carefully exposes the sincerity of this young woman who believes in a true world but does not know how to begin prayers that presuppose such belief. In Paint It Black, there are no grand pronouncements of redemption. There are no turgid truths pushed forward by lofty language. In part through the broken english of a Mexican maid, Fitch delivers terse revelations on love, beauty, and will that many texts in the canon of great literature promise to teach in word with the lesson lost in its advertisement.
April 16, 2020
Few writers manage to capture contemporary Los Angeles. It is not an easy thing to do. Ask any East Coast transplant and he will roll his head (not just his eyes, but his entire head) as he launches into the standard lambaste of the shallow, the inane, the mystic mumbo-jumbo, the ego, the irrelevance, the artificiality...Woody Allen nailed it, or was it clever Dorothy Parker with her sharp lament: "Los Angeles is seventy-two suburbs in search of a city." What they are saying, and it's important not to miss this, is that the place is very hard to get a fix on. Which is understandable. Being, as it is, The City of Dreams.
Janet Fitch is one of the modest number of authors possessed of genuine insight into the living of life in L.A. - as those who happened upon her first novel, White Oleander, are likely already aware. She also has a marvelously astute obsession with the relationship between mothers and daughters. Painful things, as she sees them. Hungry, destructive; daunting and determined dances of well-heeled rage. Her initial outing turned the teenage Astrid away from her birth Medea and sent her shopping - like the prince with his slipper - through the Los Angeles foster-care system in search of a better fit. Paint It Black continues in the same less-than-merry vein, altering only the degree of relational remove.
Josie Tyrell is a seventeen-year-old runaway from Bakersfield. Fate drops her to the center of L.A.'s 1980 punk rock scene where she scrambles to survive through nude modeling at a local art school. Behind a sketchbook at the back of the room sits one Michael Faraday, son of the renowned pianist Meredith Loewy, who has removed himself from his studies at Harvard to either slum or rebel. They bond and build a year's life together in sweet bohemian bliss; the cultivation of her mind taking precedence as he toils with his art and she pays the rent. And this is where, somewhat like the tricky Los Angeles, Josie imagines her eye can fix...until he drives one day to Twenty-Nine Palms and shoots himself in the head. Chapter One closes. Chapter Two - Enter Meredith, the mother from hell.
There's a lot of extraordinary writing here, not the least of which for me lies in Fitch's easy conveyance of the texture of this city. She has a true feel for the authentic, yet that asset can turn on a dime to make the lapses all the more evident. I found the use of lingo discordant ("voddy," "ciggy," etc.), but probably could have gotten past that. What really jarred were the advanced perceptions coming out of this seventeen-year-old's mind. Josie may have absorbed a lot of aesthetic data in her year with the Harvard boy, and perhaps even a sense of context, but it would not have been remotely possible for her to have processed that material into this sort of seasoned wisdom. Not at seventeen. The only way I could move beyond it was to pretend she was a very bright twenty-six year old...until the novel reminded me she wasn't. And that was difficult.
Still, if you don't mind feinting a little to the left? A fair book.
Janet Fitch is one of the modest number of authors possessed of genuine insight into the living of life in L.A. - as those who happened upon her first novel, White Oleander, are likely already aware. She also has a marvelously astute obsession with the relationship between mothers and daughters. Painful things, as she sees them. Hungry, destructive; daunting and determined dances of well-heeled rage. Her initial outing turned the teenage Astrid away from her birth Medea and sent her shopping - like the prince with his slipper - through the Los Angeles foster-care system in search of a better fit. Paint It Black continues in the same less-than-merry vein, altering only the degree of relational remove.
Josie Tyrell is a seventeen-year-old runaway from Bakersfield. Fate drops her to the center of L.A.'s 1980 punk rock scene where she scrambles to survive through nude modeling at a local art school. Behind a sketchbook at the back of the room sits one Michael Faraday, son of the renowned pianist Meredith Loewy, who has removed himself from his studies at Harvard to either slum or rebel. They bond and build a year's life together in sweet bohemian bliss; the cultivation of her mind taking precedence as he toils with his art and she pays the rent. And this is where, somewhat like the tricky Los Angeles, Josie imagines her eye can fix...until he drives one day to Twenty-Nine Palms and shoots himself in the head. Chapter One closes. Chapter Two - Enter Meredith, the mother from hell.
There's a lot of extraordinary writing here, not the least of which for me lies in Fitch's easy conveyance of the texture of this city. She has a true feel for the authentic, yet that asset can turn on a dime to make the lapses all the more evident. I found the use of lingo discordant ("voddy," "ciggy," etc.), but probably could have gotten past that. What really jarred were the advanced perceptions coming out of this seventeen-year-old's mind. Josie may have absorbed a lot of aesthetic data in her year with the Harvard boy, and perhaps even a sense of context, but it would not have been remotely possible for her to have processed that material into this sort of seasoned wisdom. Not at seventeen. The only way I could move beyond it was to pretend she was a very bright twenty-six year old...until the novel reminded me she wasn't. And that was difficult.
Still, if you don't mind feinting a little to the left? A fair book.
November 26, 2007
At times the writing was lyrical. Fitch showed every aspect I admire in an author, but then it just all went to hell. Josie is worse than an ordinary narrator, she is the very definition of counter-culture. Cheap references to punk rock and substances will get you nowhere, when it comes to keeping the attention of a readers. I hate it when authors mention things casually to try and make themselves and the character seem cold, or in some way used to the ways of the world. The use of the word "Barbiturates" was terrible. The book was hard to get through. Thought processes were explained way too often. It was as though Fitch was describing a really good idea that she just wasn't sure how to write. This book could have been much shorter, had the writing been focused and relevant. Yes, we realize Josie is having trouble accepting the death of her lover, but can something actually happen? Though it was full of mental anguish, very little of it was interesting. I regret finished this novel, but at times it was very enjoyable. I actually don't know how I feel about it. READER BEWARE this is not a great read. I didn't pick up the book feeling inspired, satisfied, happy, sad, or any other useful feeling. I mostly just felt a little disappointed... That said, I am glad I read it. Enjoy?
March 26, 2020
This is a very different book. It is about depression and suicide and how it affects friends and family of a young man who shot himself. I read the whole book but had a very hard time with it. The author is very descriptive and it's a good story but just did not enjoy the subject matter. Story takes in LA in the late 1980's and there is a lot of the locations, bands and places like that mentioned that I know nothing about. The main character is a 20 year old young woman whose boyfriend goes to a desert motel and shots himself,, There are lots of poetry references and musical references in the book. The boy's mother is a concernt pianist and the young man loves jazz and songs of the 20's and 30's. This whole story is about the young woman and the mother deal with the suicide. And the end of the book did have redemption because the main character did try to help another person get into a better life like she did. I have liked this author before and will definitelyl read her again but will say this book was a hard read.
September 11, 2007
This book is incredibly powerful...but also incredibly painful to read. It follows the story of Josie Tyrell, a young woman growing up in the late 70s/early 80s and a punk model who falls in love with the intelligent, brooding (you know the type) Michael Faraday, who ends up committing suicide. The book details Josie's process of grief, and how it interacts with Meredith's, Michael's mother's process as well. The detail is incredible and takes you through everything; love, the shame and darkness of mental illness, the incredible grief and pain associated with losing a loved one. You won't be able to help associating it with your own life experiences. A must read...just make sure you're up for the sadness.
December 21, 2025
Thought this would be another five-star read like White Oleander was for me, but man, I hated Michael. The writing is out of this world, though.
I read this as part of a silly reading challenge that ended up being a ton of fun.
Click here to hear more of my thoughts on this book over on my Booktube channel, abookolive!
I read this as part of a silly reading challenge that ended up being a ton of fun.
Click here to hear more of my thoughts on this book over on my Booktube channel, abookolive!
March 11, 2008
uggh. i loved janet fitch's WHITE OLEANDER, and now i am doubting whether my memory actually serves me right. this book is so poorly-written: 400 pages of little more than melodrama, unrealistic scenes, lame dialogue, and unresolved problems. and the sentences themselves infuriate me. here is an example of what i think fitch meant to be a powerful ending to chapter 20, to demonstrate how the main character misses her dead boyfriend:
"She lay on the couch for the rest of the morning, like some crazy girl in a locked ward crying and masturbating all the day long."
really? REALLY? THAT'S supposed to be good? "All the day long"? For real? And where's the second comma?
i am annoyed that i finished it. the ending is just as stupid as the above paragraph. i didn't buy these characters, much less care about them. it was supposed to take place in 1980s punk rock LA art scene and felt totally inauthentic, as were the uneducated white trash 20-year-old punk rock girl's extensive knowledge of french literature and classical music. SIGH.
sucked.
"She lay on the couch for the rest of the morning, like some crazy girl in a locked ward crying and masturbating all the day long."
really? REALLY? THAT'S supposed to be good? "All the day long"? For real? And where's the second comma?
i am annoyed that i finished it. the ending is just as stupid as the above paragraph. i didn't buy these characters, much less care about them. it was supposed to take place in 1980s punk rock LA art scene and felt totally inauthentic, as were the uneducated white trash 20-year-old punk rock girl's extensive knowledge of french literature and classical music. SIGH.
sucked.
January 3, 2009
I am somewhere between 'abosultely hated it' and 'liked parts of it'. Of the many characters in this book, the already dead boyfriend and his mother are the only strong characters although they are still slightly cartoonish.
The things that made this book awful are the the constant similies - Fitch couldn't describe anything without comparing it to something else. It distracted me from the story and actually made me angry. Also, I felt the language used to show how Josie was low-class and 'counter culture' was a bit garish (such as "crotch doctor").
The repitition in this book was the killer for me - it was much like reading the same 100 pages four times over. Josie's anguish over losing her boyfriend and coming to grips with the realization that he had lied to her about who he was (or omitted details) was agonizing to read. Only so because she repeated herself for 400 pages without saying anything new or giving any more insight to the situation or her feelings, so much so that I could almost predict what she was going to say next.
I put this book down very disapointed.
The things that made this book awful are the the constant similies - Fitch couldn't describe anything without comparing it to something else. It distracted me from the story and actually made me angry. Also, I felt the language used to show how Josie was low-class and 'counter culture' was a bit garish (such as "crotch doctor").
The repitition in this book was the killer for me - it was much like reading the same 100 pages four times over. Josie's anguish over losing her boyfriend and coming to grips with the realization that he had lied to her about who he was (or omitted details) was agonizing to read. Only so because she repeated herself for 400 pages without saying anything new or giving any more insight to the situation or her feelings, so much so that I could almost predict what she was going to say next.
I put this book down very disapointed.
April 1, 2009
I waited almost two years to read Paint it Black. I purposely waited because White Oleander had made such a huge impact on me. Not only was it one of the best books I have ever read, the quality of writing was so inspiring that I returned to my own writing soon after. I learned the beauty of metaphor reading that book.
But I knew it would not be fair to the author to compare the two. I wanted Paint it Black to stand on its own for me, to be a work separate. And so I waited.
I finished the book tonight and what I can tell you is that it is a book that grows, a story that starts tight and raveled and then unfolds; revealing a tender and raw place, and painful vulnerability - if one takes the time to look for it. If you’ve ever experienced firsthand the excruciating pain of losing someone to suicide you will understand Josie. You will understand the obsession over every single minute detail that must be examined, hashed and rehashed, thought about and analyzed again and again. Ms. Fitch takes the reader through the painful process, around and around and up and down, wrenching us through the tortured grief with Josie, inside of her, next to her, every step of the way. Until that moment, that chilling moment when she stands at the actual spot her loved one’s last breath on this earth was expelled, that icy place where the blackness of death lurked and moved.
You must read this book. And when you do, remember you are entering a world that is very real, very raw, and be patient. This is the world of the 80’s, the world of LA; allow yourself to be there, to smell it and hear it. Janet Fitch will paint the environment for you, relish it, let her draw you in and experience it all.
This is a book unto its own. It must be read separate from White Oleander. It is as different as black and white.
But I knew it would not be fair to the author to compare the two. I wanted Paint it Black to stand on its own for me, to be a work separate. And so I waited.
I finished the book tonight and what I can tell you is that it is a book that grows, a story that starts tight and raveled and then unfolds; revealing a tender and raw place, and painful vulnerability - if one takes the time to look for it. If you’ve ever experienced firsthand the excruciating pain of losing someone to suicide you will understand Josie. You will understand the obsession over every single minute detail that must be examined, hashed and rehashed, thought about and analyzed again and again. Ms. Fitch takes the reader through the painful process, around and around and up and down, wrenching us through the tortured grief with Josie, inside of her, next to her, every step of the way. Until that moment, that chilling moment when she stands at the actual spot her loved one’s last breath on this earth was expelled, that icy place where the blackness of death lurked and moved.
You must read this book. And when you do, remember you are entering a world that is very real, very raw, and be patient. This is the world of the 80’s, the world of LA; allow yourself to be there, to smell it and hear it. Janet Fitch will paint the environment for you, relish it, let her draw you in and experience it all.
This is a book unto its own. It must be read separate from White Oleander. It is as different as black and white.
March 4, 2009
Ok. Let me start by saying I loved White Oleander. I've read it 3 or 4 times. I couldn't wait for Fitch's next book. Yes, I know. Authors aren't supposed to write the "same" book over and over again, just like bands aren't supposed to write the same album again and again. But I wasn't asking for that...I was expecting something, oh I don't know, not so repetitive? No boring? Not a stupid ending?
I just "finished" this book, which is not entirely accurate since I got so tired of the endless descriptions that I started skimming. The method I used was to look for quotations, which meant there was some dialogue. Exciting! People talking! To each other!
Some words I hope to never read again: voddy, ciggies, Gauloises, sportif. There are more, but I've blocked them out. Mostly French words.
Ok, spoiler time. Poor punk rock girl (PRG) finds rich Harvard guy and they live together. She was used to chilling in the LA punk scene and listening to the Germs. Fitch should have ran with that storyline. But no.
Rich dude isn't exactly upfront about the details of his "former" life with her. Mommy cuts him off bc he quits Hahvid, and has a trashy woman. Dude doesn't expect this, and has to get a crappy job, which he quits and PRG has to pay all the bills. Boo hoo. Rich Kid (DRK) then kills himself, which shocks PRG and Mommy bc apparently, they didn't realize he had some mental issues or they did but ignored them. So PRG feels she never really knew the real DRK. Daddy is only peripheral, but just enough in the story that it is annoying and should have been used more (IMO).
Mommy and PRG start to have a bizarre relationship, and that is the rest of the book. There are some friends of PRG, but she basically just uses them bc she is so obsessed with DRK. There is also a maid, and some weird allusion to incest. Oh, and a dead grandfather. I admit, I skimmed the last chapter, bc it was insulting me.
The story was not my issue. Punk Rock Girl was entirely uninteresting. We spend way too much time in her head, thinking about DRK. I could not read more than 2 paragraphs in a row about his suicide. I realize this is the point of the book...but it irritated me. She was supposed to be an ignorant hick (her words), but she knew a tad too much about classical music, etc. Yeah, she learned it from the dead kid. Ok, sure.
Mommy is a bitch, no doubt, and has a personality disorder of some type, so I am assuming you aren't supposed to like her. I kind of DID like her! She was far more interesting than PRG. I guess my issue was the constant conversation in PRG's head and the details of her every move. Just not my thing. I love details, but this was over the top. It's almost 400 pages, and personally I think it needed editing. It could have been a short story.
One more thing, which is just a question of my own. "Bosch" is mentioned a few times. I couldn't figure out if it was a street in LA, or a building. Bosch to me is a fuel injector or appliance company, or the one of the discoverers of ammonia production (Haber/Bosch? anyone?). I've never been to LA, and I know Fitch is an LA aficionado...if anyone knows, I want to know. I know, minor detail.
I just "finished" this book, which is not entirely accurate since I got so tired of the endless descriptions that I started skimming. The method I used was to look for quotations, which meant there was some dialogue. Exciting! People talking! To each other!
Some words I hope to never read again: voddy, ciggies, Gauloises, sportif. There are more, but I've blocked them out. Mostly French words.
Ok, spoiler time. Poor punk rock girl (PRG) finds rich Harvard guy and they live together. She was used to chilling in the LA punk scene and listening to the Germs. Fitch should have ran with that storyline. But no.
Rich dude isn't exactly upfront about the details of his "former" life with her. Mommy cuts him off bc he quits Hahvid, and has a trashy woman. Dude doesn't expect this, and has to get a crappy job, which he quits and PRG has to pay all the bills. Boo hoo. Rich Kid (DRK) then kills himself, which shocks PRG and Mommy bc apparently, they didn't realize he had some mental issues or they did but ignored them. So PRG feels she never really knew the real DRK. Daddy is only peripheral, but just enough in the story that it is annoying and should have been used more (IMO).
Mommy and PRG start to have a bizarre relationship, and that is the rest of the book. There are some friends of PRG, but she basically just uses them bc she is so obsessed with DRK. There is also a maid, and some weird allusion to incest. Oh, and a dead grandfather. I admit, I skimmed the last chapter, bc it was insulting me.
The story was not my issue. Punk Rock Girl was entirely uninteresting. We spend way too much time in her head, thinking about DRK. I could not read more than 2 paragraphs in a row about his suicide. I realize this is the point of the book...but it irritated me. She was supposed to be an ignorant hick (her words), but she knew a tad too much about classical music, etc. Yeah, she learned it from the dead kid. Ok, sure.
Mommy is a bitch, no doubt, and has a personality disorder of some type, so I am assuming you aren't supposed to like her. I kind of DID like her! She was far more interesting than PRG. I guess my issue was the constant conversation in PRG's head and the details of her every move. Just not my thing. I love details, but this was over the top. It's almost 400 pages, and personally I think it needed editing. It could have been a short story.
One more thing, which is just a question of my own. "Bosch" is mentioned a few times. I couldn't figure out if it was a street in LA, or a building. Bosch to me is a fuel injector or appliance company, or the one of the discoverers of ammonia production (Haber/Bosch? anyone?). I've never been to LA, and I know Fitch is an LA aficionado...if anyone knows, I want to know. I know, minor detail.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 15, 2021
The story of a young woman working through her grief following her boyfriend’s suicide, messed up by her interactions with his mother and father. Clearly not one to read if you are feeling low yourself, the writing by Janet Fitch takes you through Josie’s emotions so eloquently, honestly and beautifully......made my heart ache....
January 13, 2008
I can always tell (and ultimately, begrudge) when a novel's author is trying to hard to represent a time period or a subculture in which he/she has not intimately been involved. This is how I felt about "Paint it Black".
First, let me start by saying that I got this book for Christmas. It was written by Janet Finch, the author of "White Oleander"--a book I've not read and a movie I've not seen, for fear that it would be emotionally-draped drivel. I probably transferred my presuppositions about "White Oleander" to "Paint it Black", and maybe it didn't get a fair shot.
There WERE some things that I really appreciated about this book. First, it took on a fairly taboo subject matter, suicide, with a certain ferocity. Finch did not pull any punches in describing the emotions and desperate actions of her characters. And she did an excellent job in creating the intimate world of lovers Josie and Michael, as well as the world of Michael's family (also possibly lovers, as the reader later learns). And the plot was compelling; I did finish the book in one sitting (though mostly wondering if Josie would ultimately live or die).
Unfortunately, there was just too much shtick involved in the novel: Josie and her "voddy" and painkillers; Josie and her stringy bleached hair and rabbit coat; Josie and every (anti?) hip band that Janet Finch could think to throw onto the page and into Josie's tape deck. The 80s L.A. punk culture in which Finch lays her scene comes off too strongly, like a cheap perfume. Could be that I don't "do" the teenage runaway thing and I'm passing judgment, or could be that Finch smudged Josie up too much to make her a relatable character. Either way, there were times when the language felt too harsh and the pop culture references too forced.
All in all, a quick read which may sting for those who have lost a loved one and may provoke thought in others. But I'm kind of indifferent.
First, let me start by saying that I got this book for Christmas. It was written by Janet Finch, the author of "White Oleander"--a book I've not read and a movie I've not seen, for fear that it would be emotionally-draped drivel. I probably transferred my presuppositions about "White Oleander" to "Paint it Black", and maybe it didn't get a fair shot.
There WERE some things that I really appreciated about this book. First, it took on a fairly taboo subject matter, suicide, with a certain ferocity. Finch did not pull any punches in describing the emotions and desperate actions of her characters. And she did an excellent job in creating the intimate world of lovers Josie and Michael, as well as the world of Michael's family (also possibly lovers, as the reader later learns). And the plot was compelling; I did finish the book in one sitting (though mostly wondering if Josie would ultimately live or die).
Unfortunately, there was just too much shtick involved in the novel: Josie and her "voddy" and painkillers; Josie and her stringy bleached hair and rabbit coat; Josie and every (anti?) hip band that Janet Finch could think to throw onto the page and into Josie's tape deck. The 80s L.A. punk culture in which Finch lays her scene comes off too strongly, like a cheap perfume. Could be that I don't "do" the teenage runaway thing and I'm passing judgment, or could be that Finch smudged Josie up too much to make her a relatable character. Either way, there were times when the language felt too harsh and the pop culture references too forced.
All in all, a quick read which may sting for those who have lost a loved one and may provoke thought in others. But I'm kind of indifferent.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 10, 2007
Not much of any developement in this story. Its about a punk chick whose artist boyfriend commits suicide. It was sad and depressing and never got better or worse. I was expecting so much more from this book but I felt like I just read the same thing over and over again. It was long and could have been summed up in about a quarter of its length. I kept waiting for something interesting to happen between the boyfriend's mother and the girl, but I got nothing. Both the mother and the girlfriend weren't good people so I never felt bad for them and overall didn't connect to any of the characters.
January 2, 2008
I was nervous reading Paint it Black because I didn't want to be let down, as Fitch's previous novel, White Oleander, remains one of my favorite books. Although I don't think Paint it Black is as good as White Oleander, I definitely wasn't let down.
The book is a dual portrait of a young couple in LA in the early 1980s, where Josie is the narrator and Michael has just committed suicide. Josie tells her story while she reminisces about him. Of course she struggles with his death and tries to understand it and who he really was. Although she never really admits it, it turns out that he wasn't as nice to her as she had thought he was. For one, he didn't work but didn't mind her working 3 jobs. He didn't mind being cut off by his rich mother and refused to take money from his father, too. He basically was a young, idealistic bohemian and was using Josie as a prop in his life play.
I didn't think Josie was a particularly fascinating character. She wasn't bad, but a lot of people will find her hard to take: she cusses a lot, drives around drunk, talks about sex all the time, and does a variety of illicit drugs. And I wasn't entirely convinced by the relationship that develops between her and Michael's mother (though it certainly starts off interesting).
There were several things about the book that I really liked. One is the exploration of the concept of perfection. Josie eventually understands that Michael killed himself because he couldn't meet his ideal of an artist. He had very high standards, since he was raised in high society and exposed to the most refined culture, and he just couldn't attain that level of achievement and he knew it. He was a very good artist, but not good enough to rank among the best. And who wants to be second-rate? Not Michael. Of course, the portrait of Michael is also a pretty good study of depression, as was the portrayal of Josie's perspective on it--she knew he was having problems, but had no idea how to help him.
The book is a dual portrait of a young couple in LA in the early 1980s, where Josie is the narrator and Michael has just committed suicide. Josie tells her story while she reminisces about him. Of course she struggles with his death and tries to understand it and who he really was. Although she never really admits it, it turns out that he wasn't as nice to her as she had thought he was. For one, he didn't work but didn't mind her working 3 jobs. He didn't mind being cut off by his rich mother and refused to take money from his father, too. He basically was a young, idealistic bohemian and was using Josie as a prop in his life play.
I didn't think Josie was a particularly fascinating character. She wasn't bad, but a lot of people will find her hard to take: she cusses a lot, drives around drunk, talks about sex all the time, and does a variety of illicit drugs. And I wasn't entirely convinced by the relationship that develops between her and Michael's mother (though it certainly starts off interesting).
There were several things about the book that I really liked. One is the exploration of the concept of perfection. Josie eventually understands that Michael killed himself because he couldn't meet his ideal of an artist. He had very high standards, since he was raised in high society and exposed to the most refined culture, and he just couldn't attain that level of achievement and he knew it. He was a very good artist, but not good enough to rank among the best. And who wants to be second-rate? Not Michael. Of course, the portrait of Michael is also a pretty good study of depression, as was the portrayal of Josie's perspective on it--she knew he was having problems, but had no idea how to help him.
September 11, 2013
This was my first Janet Fitch novel (I haven't read White Oleander yet) and even though the material was dark, I think it was a very important subject to explore.
The story begins with Michael's suicide. His suicide represents the despair of not being able to meet his ideals of perfectionism. To me Michael was relatable because I too struggle with perfectionism and procrastination.
Josie, his girlfriend, is left to come to terms with this situation. To me she represents the authentic self and overcomes the situation by becoming Michael. To her, this journey is an expansion of her own self, when she retraces his final steps and uncovers the "unusual" relationship he has with his mother, Meredith. I really liked Josie and was rooting for her from the beginning.
What I also really liked about the book was all the musical, poetry, and 80's related references. This really helped define who Michael and Josie were, but also the decade itself. Fitch depicts L.A. really well and even though I've never been there, I could vividly see in my mind everything that was being described; which gave the book a unique perspective in place you don't usually experience in a narrative story, but at the same time, gave it a lot of dimension and texture.
All in all, I think Fitch did an impressive job of getting down into a difficult collective experience and opening it up so that all readers of this book can come to terms with the difficult things that have happened to them, and for that I thank her so much.
The story begins with Michael's suicide. His suicide represents the despair of not being able to meet his ideals of perfectionism. To me Michael was relatable because I too struggle with perfectionism and procrastination.
Josie, his girlfriend, is left to come to terms with this situation. To me she represents the authentic self and overcomes the situation by becoming Michael. To her, this journey is an expansion of her own self, when she retraces his final steps and uncovers the "unusual" relationship he has with his mother, Meredith. I really liked Josie and was rooting for her from the beginning.
What I also really liked about the book was all the musical, poetry, and 80's related references. This really helped define who Michael and Josie were, but also the decade itself. Fitch depicts L.A. really well and even though I've never been there, I could vividly see in my mind everything that was being described; which gave the book a unique perspective in place you don't usually experience in a narrative story, but at the same time, gave it a lot of dimension and texture.
All in all, I think Fitch did an impressive job of getting down into a difficult collective experience and opening it up so that all readers of this book can come to terms with the difficult things that have happened to them, and for that I thank her so much.
February 3, 2009
I hated this book. It was such a huge disappointment. I loved White Oleander and this book was such a far car from White Oleander. The main reason I didn't like it was due to the main character, Josie. She wasn't likable, she wasn't all that interesting and if she gets interesting...I wouldn't know because half way through the book, I quit. If you can't get to the point by the half-point, then I'm abandoning ship. Extremely disappointing novel.
Another thing, I couldn't figure out why Josie like Michael? Why did Michael lie all the time? And it got to the point, where I didn't care. Fitch paints the portrait of Josie with bright vivid colors; but the colors are so overbearing that I couldn't really see who the essence of Josie is and that's what I kept looking for.
Another thing, I couldn't figure out why Josie like Michael? Why did Michael lie all the time? And it got to the point, where I didn't care. Fitch paints the portrait of Josie with bright vivid colors; but the colors are so overbearing that I couldn't really see who the essence of Josie is and that's what I kept looking for.
April 30, 2025
Almost 400 pages spent pining after the most average man in existence. I finished it but I don't know how many more fancy French pretensions I could have handled. We get it, he was a tortured artist that smoked Gauloises and wanted to live in Montmartre. That is not a replacement for a personality.
February 7, 2018
TBHOS BOOK REVIEWS
A Review by Nicole S. Aviles
"Paint it Black" by Janet Fitch
“Whenever she thought she could not feel more alone, the universe peeled back another layer of darkness.” - Josie Tyrell, PIB / Janet Fitch, Author
I have waited a long time to leave this review. I first read PIB in 2012, while I was {sadly} locked away in a 2 year therapeutic recovery program. I say this because PIB is exactly what you'd want to read while facing such depressing circumstances. PIB is beautifully written, and touching. Is it up-lifting? Probably not. That's not what I mean. What it IS, is deep. Profound. Artistic. It's an old-fashioned writer/reader's dream.
The book opens with Josie Tyrell facing the devastating news about the suicide of her, former child-prodigy and incidentally screwed up young adult, boyfriend, Michael. Michael is a Harvard drop-out that has been born into a family of great artistry, genius AND sociopathy. With a grandfather who was seemingly cruel, talented, and equally depressed already having offed himself, it's no shock Michael's done the same. Especially with his predictably narcissistic mother, whom there are serious hints of an oedipal unhealthy love with, being Michael's biggest demon.
Josie knows none of this when they first fall in love, and even as his story unfolds, she often seems in denial about his pathological lying, true-self, and ability to manipulate. Josie thinks Michael is just amazing. Despite the fact that he's never really shared anything real of himself, or life with her. Like the child of so many narcissistic parents, especially talented and brilliant parents, Michael has an undying need to win their affection, approval, and love, but fails at all but the last--and even the last is in increments, as his overbearing Mother Meredith sees fit to provide (basically when she is controlling him he is doused in love, and when she is not, he is ignored and shunned.) Yet, obsessed with Michael, she is the most destructive force in his life, easily. She says in one part of the book something to effect of them all being bright, but Michael being extremely advanced, yet she expects him to settle for an average job with an art history degree, versus exploring himself as an artist and creator much like the rest of the family did, including her and her father, whom were both famous orchestra musicians.
I found this psychological thriller to be quite disturbing. Excellent, but disturbing. As any great psychological book should be. The oedipal chain of command is such a delicate topic to try to touch on, but Fitch masters it in this book. We are only given hints of a possible romantic relationship between mother and son, but it's enough to set Josie running--for good. (When she starts developing a relationship with his Mother, posthumously.)
My analysis of the characters is something that is a little more opinionated, than my take on the entire piece in totality. I strongly disliked Michael. I felt very little empathy for him. I was never fascinated by his intelligence or charm. I understand the complex and damaging relationship of the narcissistic parent and child, but Michael was a terrible boyfriend. Josie blames herself throughout the novel (I was actually annoyed with how many times she thinks to herself how she isn't good enough for Michael, it started to seem as though it was the author's opinion, and not the narrator's), because Michael may have been the Harvard aristocrat, but what of it? He dropped out, used his intelligence and talent for null, treated Josie like a disease that wouldn't go away, was a pathological liar, played everyone against the next, and didn't even barely work or hold down anything while he and Josie lived together for a measly year. His love, opinions, and entire repertoire seemed inter-changeable from one minute to the next. Meredith--his rigid, bitter, arrogant, hardened Mother, was my only reason for having even a shred of sympathy for Michael. He was a spoiled, silly child, much of the time.
Josie on the other hand, I liked a lot. I only wanted to smack her when she would ramble on to herself, in her own stream of inner consciousness, about what a great boyfriend and human Michael was, and how undeserving she was of him. Josie was beautiful, intelligent, insightful, and intact; strong. She made a life of nothing. A young, poor "okie" as Meredith calls her, Josie still escapes her vicious abusive father, rapist older brother, and depressing life in N. California, to become a full-time art model, who also appears in student films on occasion. She has a great work ethic, and is talented at what she does. So why could she never see this about herself? For someone who was raised in ignorance, she is naturally intelligent. No Astrid Magnussen, but this is another novel.
Still, despite my gripes with a few character defects, of several characters, I loved PIB. The language is so amazing and articulated with such sharp, poetic precision, I could have cried while reading it. Not from the tale, but just from the sheer beauty of how it sounded rolling off my mind's tongue. Fitch's use of metaphors and symbolism are as always, enviable, and luscious. Her writing is some of the best of the last few generations, that I've read. The story is not fantastic or ridiculous; it's the reality of the development that happens with these pathologies in place. The ending was interesting; a glimmer of hope, but no promise. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the entire book, with it being almost right up there with W.O.--her first brilliant work. PIB may be written even better, when speaking of the writing itself. The work is strongly penned, and I've read it several times. It's honestly more than a five star read, it's brilliant and memorable!
THREE thumbs up for Paint it Black and my favorite American author--Janet Fitch!
Rating System and Notes:
Technical Writing - five stars {brilliantly executed}
Concept & development - four & a half stars
Themes conveyed - five stars
Character Development - five stars {brilliantly executed}
Originality - five stars {brilliantly executed}
# of times I've read it: 2, so far.
Notes: Fitch provides the narrators thoughts as the main element of story-telling, so even though it's written in third-person, we walk through Josie's life, after the suicide of her beloved boyfriend, an artist whom suffered from creative despair, identity crisis, and an unhealthy oedipal love for his mother. Very hazy and very poetic--her use of metaphors create an entire book read like one long poem, which is her trademark style now.
Genre: dark & depressing literary fiction, psycho-dramas, psychological thrillers
A Review by Nicole S. Aviles
"Paint it Black" by Janet Fitch
“Whenever she thought she could not feel more alone, the universe peeled back another layer of darkness.” - Josie Tyrell, PIB / Janet Fitch, Author
I have waited a long time to leave this review. I first read PIB in 2012, while I was {sadly} locked away in a 2 year therapeutic recovery program. I say this because PIB is exactly what you'd want to read while facing such depressing circumstances. PIB is beautifully written, and touching. Is it up-lifting? Probably not. That's not what I mean. What it IS, is deep. Profound. Artistic. It's an old-fashioned writer/reader's dream.
The book opens with Josie Tyrell facing the devastating news about the suicide of her, former child-prodigy and incidentally screwed up young adult, boyfriend, Michael. Michael is a Harvard drop-out that has been born into a family of great artistry, genius AND sociopathy. With a grandfather who was seemingly cruel, talented, and equally depressed already having offed himself, it's no shock Michael's done the same. Especially with his predictably narcissistic mother, whom there are serious hints of an oedipal unhealthy love with, being Michael's biggest demon.
Josie knows none of this when they first fall in love, and even as his story unfolds, she often seems in denial about his pathological lying, true-self, and ability to manipulate. Josie thinks Michael is just amazing. Despite the fact that he's never really shared anything real of himself, or life with her. Like the child of so many narcissistic parents, especially talented and brilliant parents, Michael has an undying need to win their affection, approval, and love, but fails at all but the last--and even the last is in increments, as his overbearing Mother Meredith sees fit to provide (basically when she is controlling him he is doused in love, and when she is not, he is ignored and shunned.) Yet, obsessed with Michael, she is the most destructive force in his life, easily. She says in one part of the book something to effect of them all being bright, but Michael being extremely advanced, yet she expects him to settle for an average job with an art history degree, versus exploring himself as an artist and creator much like the rest of the family did, including her and her father, whom were both famous orchestra musicians.
I found this psychological thriller to be quite disturbing. Excellent, but disturbing. As any great psychological book should be. The oedipal chain of command is such a delicate topic to try to touch on, but Fitch masters it in this book. We are only given hints of a possible romantic relationship between mother and son, but it's enough to set Josie running--for good. (When she starts developing a relationship with his Mother, posthumously.)
My analysis of the characters is something that is a little more opinionated, than my take on the entire piece in totality. I strongly disliked Michael. I felt very little empathy for him. I was never fascinated by his intelligence or charm. I understand the complex and damaging relationship of the narcissistic parent and child, but Michael was a terrible boyfriend. Josie blames herself throughout the novel (I was actually annoyed with how many times she thinks to herself how she isn't good enough for Michael, it started to seem as though it was the author's opinion, and not the narrator's), because Michael may have been the Harvard aristocrat, but what of it? He dropped out, used his intelligence and talent for null, treated Josie like a disease that wouldn't go away, was a pathological liar, played everyone against the next, and didn't even barely work or hold down anything while he and Josie lived together for a measly year. His love, opinions, and entire repertoire seemed inter-changeable from one minute to the next. Meredith--his rigid, bitter, arrogant, hardened Mother, was my only reason for having even a shred of sympathy for Michael. He was a spoiled, silly child, much of the time.
Josie on the other hand, I liked a lot. I only wanted to smack her when she would ramble on to herself, in her own stream of inner consciousness, about what a great boyfriend and human Michael was, and how undeserving she was of him. Josie was beautiful, intelligent, insightful, and intact; strong. She made a life of nothing. A young, poor "okie" as Meredith calls her, Josie still escapes her vicious abusive father, rapist older brother, and depressing life in N. California, to become a full-time art model, who also appears in student films on occasion. She has a great work ethic, and is talented at what she does. So why could she never see this about herself? For someone who was raised in ignorance, she is naturally intelligent. No Astrid Magnussen, but this is another novel.
Still, despite my gripes with a few character defects, of several characters, I loved PIB. The language is so amazing and articulated with such sharp, poetic precision, I could have cried while reading it. Not from the tale, but just from the sheer beauty of how it sounded rolling off my mind's tongue. Fitch's use of metaphors and symbolism are as always, enviable, and luscious. Her writing is some of the best of the last few generations, that I've read. The story is not fantastic or ridiculous; it's the reality of the development that happens with these pathologies in place. The ending was interesting; a glimmer of hope, but no promise. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the entire book, with it being almost right up there with W.O.--her first brilliant work. PIB may be written even better, when speaking of the writing itself. The work is strongly penned, and I've read it several times. It's honestly more than a five star read, it's brilliant and memorable!
THREE thumbs up for Paint it Black and my favorite American author--Janet Fitch!
Rating System and Notes:
Technical Writing - five stars {brilliantly executed}
Concept & development - four & a half stars
Themes conveyed - five stars
Character Development - five stars {brilliantly executed}
Originality - five stars {brilliantly executed}
# of times I've read it: 2, so far.
Notes: Fitch provides the narrators thoughts as the main element of story-telling, so even though it's written in third-person, we walk through Josie's life, after the suicide of her beloved boyfriend, an artist whom suffered from creative despair, identity crisis, and an unhealthy oedipal love for his mother. Very hazy and very poetic--her use of metaphors create an entire book read like one long poem, which is her trademark style now.
Genre: dark & depressing literary fiction, psycho-dramas, psychological thrillers
May 19, 2014
I have a real resistance to liking this book. I wasn't a big fan of White Oleander, and that was an Oprah book, which turns on part of my snob brain in a way that isn't particularly fair.
On the other hand, I am particularly sensitive to depictions of grief these days, when they aren't saccharine or sentimental. And this book had that.
And more than that, it had a main character who was grieving who wasn't someone we would often see as deserving of grief, as if grief is something that can be deserved or forfeited, based on life choices. Josie is the drug- and alcohol-addled, white trash, punk rock girlfriend of Michael, a wealthy young man who fled his family and life, and finally his life, by suicide.
This book is the story of her grief, and her anger, and her bewilderment, and her guilt. It is not watered down. She takes refuge in substances, lashes out at those around her, gets to know her boyfriend's mother in ways comfortable and uncomfortable.
It felt real. It felt like, yes, this is grief, this is real, this is how someone might react. And it made me think about who we consider the bereaved, who we seem to think is deserving of comfort, and how easily someone like Josie might be dismissed. As she herself says, "what was it about having enormous advantage that made tragedy seem so much more tragic?"
But Josie refuses to go away. She is the centre of the book, suffering through the aftermath of the suicide, through a shocking betrayal by Michael's mother that took my breath away. She tries to find comfort, to find solace, or even just oblivion. Her grief isn't pretty and her world isn't pretty, but she grieves, deeply, and who is anyone to say she doesn't deserve to?
On the other hand, I am particularly sensitive to depictions of grief these days, when they aren't saccharine or sentimental. And this book had that.
And more than that, it had a main character who was grieving who wasn't someone we would often see as deserving of grief, as if grief is something that can be deserved or forfeited, based on life choices. Josie is the drug- and alcohol-addled, white trash, punk rock girlfriend of Michael, a wealthy young man who fled his family and life, and finally his life, by suicide.
This book is the story of her grief, and her anger, and her bewilderment, and her guilt. It is not watered down. She takes refuge in substances, lashes out at those around her, gets to know her boyfriend's mother in ways comfortable and uncomfortable.
It felt real. It felt like, yes, this is grief, this is real, this is how someone might react. And it made me think about who we consider the bereaved, who we seem to think is deserving of comfort, and how easily someone like Josie might be dismissed. As she herself says, "what was it about having enormous advantage that made tragedy seem so much more tragic?"
But Josie refuses to go away. She is the centre of the book, suffering through the aftermath of the suicide, through a shocking betrayal by Michael's mother that took my breath away. She tries to find comfort, to find solace, or even just oblivion. Her grief isn't pretty and her world isn't pretty, but she grieves, deeply, and who is anyone to say she doesn't deserve to?
September 6, 2012
Well, I'll be very frank: This wasn't as good as White Oleander, which I gave five stars, hands down..
I had wanted to read Paint it Black for several years because I loved White Oleander so much. I was pretty excited when I finally found a copy a few weeks ago.
I'm not sure if I'm just spoiled by Stephen King, whose books I've been divulging in for several months, or if it has to do with the excitement and anticipation of reading Paint it Black. Or maybe my taste in reading has changed since I read White Oleander several years ago when I was still an undergrad in college, in which, I'm a graduated graduate student. (So...it's been awhile.)
The highs and lows of the story (and I'm talking about "action") are kind of like a children's rollercoaster. They go up in a small way, then they come down a bit. Nothing too high and not like a drop too low. And maybe that is the point, and maybe if it is, I completely missed it.
Let me take a second to refer to White Oleander: I know, it is isn't the most action-packed novel, and it's not supposed be, I assume. But what I loved about it, was the fact, a LOT did happen within a short period of time. I felt like I didn't know what was going to happen next. With Paint it Black, I found myself not caring what happened next. For me, that's bad. A reader should always want to know what happened next.
Oh, and the constant use of "voddy" and "ciggies"....drove me up the F&CKING wall.
I guess I was just a little bored with this one, and didn't feel connected to it in any way. :/
I had wanted to read Paint it Black for several years because I loved White Oleander so much. I was pretty excited when I finally found a copy a few weeks ago.
I'm not sure if I'm just spoiled by Stephen King, whose books I've been divulging in for several months, or if it has to do with the excitement and anticipation of reading Paint it Black. Or maybe my taste in reading has changed since I read White Oleander several years ago when I was still an undergrad in college, in which, I'm a graduated graduate student. (So...it's been awhile.)
The highs and lows of the story (and I'm talking about "action") are kind of like a children's rollercoaster. They go up in a small way, then they come down a bit. Nothing too high and not like a drop too low. And maybe that is the point, and maybe if it is, I completely missed it.
Let me take a second to refer to White Oleander: I know, it is isn't the most action-packed novel, and it's not supposed be, I assume. But what I loved about it, was the fact, a LOT did happen within a short period of time. I felt like I didn't know what was going to happen next. With Paint it Black, I found myself not caring what happened next. For me, that's bad. A reader should always want to know what happened next.
Oh, and the constant use of "voddy" and "ciggies"....drove me up the F&CKING wall.
I guess I was just a little bored with this one, and didn't feel connected to it in any way. :/
July 4, 2007
After "White Oleander" I fear I expected too much. This book is excellent- well written, interesting, wonderfully structured and well timed- but it reads more like a first novel than "White Oleander" did. The story of a a young art model and indie actress (think Edie Sedgwick minus The Factory and the big budget from home...and minus Andy, too) who loses her lover in a moment of tragedy, "Paint It Black" is elegant and raw, just like Fitch's debut, but it doesn't have the same developed style. It has the same incredible plot developement, but lacks the finesse and truthfulness (if that makes any sense). The comparison, though, is unfair. Read before "White Oleander" or separate of it, I'd probably have given this four stars. So, if you haven't read either, start with this one and then go to "White Oleander." Prepare to be impressed and then amazed.
May 29, 2014
In some ways, this book is like one of those display cakes in the windows of fancy bakeries. Lush, intricate, stunningly beautiful. Stylish swirls; painstakingly-handcrafted characters; pale, but vibrant. You want to eat it up, all of it, but you know you should hold back, if only because it's a work of art.
But.
In other ways, this book is a half-finished drink at the seediest bar in town. Incomplete, dirty, honest. You look down at the liquid and your face reflects back at you, and you are ashamed, and yes, you should be.
Grief, and guilt, and desire, and shame, and devastation all vie for prominence here, but it's the beauty, and the connection, and the wonderfully genuine portrayal of atypical human relationships, that come out blazing.
Fitch writes like a wedding cake and burns like cheap vodka.
(Perhaps the highest compliment I can pay a writer, seriously.)
But.
In other ways, this book is a half-finished drink at the seediest bar in town. Incomplete, dirty, honest. You look down at the liquid and your face reflects back at you, and you are ashamed, and yes, you should be.
Grief, and guilt, and desire, and shame, and devastation all vie for prominence here, but it's the beauty, and the connection, and the wonderfully genuine portrayal of atypical human relationships, that come out blazing.
Fitch writes like a wedding cake and burns like cheap vodka.
(Perhaps the highest compliment I can pay a writer, seriously.)
dnf-lost-interest
April 24, 2016I keep wanting to start other books instead of finish this one. I might pick it back up later but I'm putting it down for now.
February 3, 2023
Janet Fitch could’ve written It Ends With Us and I would’ve given it a 5. NO ONE WRITES LOS ANGELES LIKE MOTHER FITCH!! Though not nearly as exciting or as excruciatingly painful as White Oleander, Paint it Black deals with a different kind of pain altogether and I find Josie to be so incredibly relatable. Ripped tights, punk show, vodka, neon lights, sitting on a curb vibe. 4.5/5. Recommend but read White Oleander first.
January 4, 2009
Having really enjoyed White Oleander, I had high hopes for Paint it Black. I was disappointed. It's not that it is a bad book, I liked it well enough, but it's very drawn out and slow. A lot of Josie's thoughts were redundant and I really felt like a lot of what was written was padding that could have been taken out.
There was just too much that didn't affect the storyline that, if it was removed, would have made the book far more readable. I found that certain sections would have me gobbling all the words up, turning the page eagerly to find out what would happen next, and then I would hit a long, drawn out, meaningless part that bored me. Unfortunately those long, drawn out parts took up more space in the book than the riveting sections.
I was also annoyed by the authors use of the word "voddy" 29832983 times in the book. It's not as though it's a shortening of the word, there are the same amount of letters in vodka as in voddy. Never once does she use the real word, even though "voddy" comes up in the book on what felt like almost every page, and what was actually multiple times on certain pages. It was annoying, and I felt like it was such a sad attempt for a somewhat older author to try to add some hip & young language to her book and appear "cool". It didn't work, it just grated on my nerves with every single usage of the word. If it was meant to capture the vibe of the main character, it certainly fell far from it's intention, at least for me. In fact, it's pretty sad that I almost had more to say on that topic than on the entire book itself, which I guess reflects pretty badly on the book itself.
There was just too much that didn't affect the storyline that, if it was removed, would have made the book far more readable. I found that certain sections would have me gobbling all the words up, turning the page eagerly to find out what would happen next, and then I would hit a long, drawn out, meaningless part that bored me. Unfortunately those long, drawn out parts took up more space in the book than the riveting sections.
I was also annoyed by the authors use of the word "voddy" 29832983 times in the book. It's not as though it's a shortening of the word, there are the same amount of letters in vodka as in voddy. Never once does she use the real word, even though "voddy" comes up in the book on what felt like almost every page, and what was actually multiple times on certain pages. It was annoying, and I felt like it was such a sad attempt for a somewhat older author to try to add some hip & young language to her book and appear "cool". It didn't work, it just grated on my nerves with every single usage of the word. If it was meant to capture the vibe of the main character, it certainly fell far from it's intention, at least for me. In fact, it's pretty sad that I almost had more to say on that topic than on the entire book itself, which I guess reflects pretty badly on the book itself.
July 21, 2015
Min partner målar fasaden i nyansen 'stugröd' medan jag ligger på olika ställen runt huset och sträckläser 'Paint it Black'. En metafor i sig.
Hyser noll längtan till L.A. Är inte intresserad av 80-talstillbakablickar, drogromantik och MPDG-aktiga karaktärer, så varför blir jag fullständigt fast i den här romanen? Alla som läst White Oleander förstår briljansen, mörkret och hoppet.
Hyser noll längtan till L.A. Är inte intresserad av 80-talstillbakablickar, drogromantik och MPDG-aktiga karaktärer, så varför blir jag fullständigt fast i den här romanen? Alla som läst White Oleander förstår briljansen, mörkret och hoppet.
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