Roger and Zelda were lovers. Best friends. Ardent, fun-loving, passionate, they were intellectual and sexual soul mates, a perfect match. And then they got married. How is it that a little piece of paper and a signature in the courthouse records can make such a difference? What happens when love becomes legal is the wellspring of this bawdy, exuberant, all too recognizably familiar tale of modern marriage. As Roger tells it - and does he ever tell it! - Zelda emerges as both ravening monster and glamorous wild woman: jealous, possessive, competitive, greedy . . . yet also fantastical, erotic, and wickedly imaginative. But who is the real Zelda? Little by little, doubts about Roger's version creep in until what began as a comedy of manners (admittedly bad) turns into a wry and telling commentary on true love and the egocentricity of the eternal male. And so the war goes on. Conjugal Bliss is John Nichols' ninth novel. A sexual comedy that will draw blood as well as laughs, it is Nichols at his funniest, most outrageous best.
John Nichols is the author of the New Mexico trilogy, a series about the complex relationship between history, race and ethnicity, and land and water rights in the fictional Chamisaville County, New Mexico. The trilogy consists of The Milagro Beanfield War (which was adapted into the film The Milagro Beanfield War directed by Robert Redford), The Magic Journey, and The Nirvana Blues.
Two of his other novels have been made into films. The Wizard of Loneliness was published in 1966 and the film version with Lukas Haas was made in 1988. Another successful movie adaptation was of The Sterile Cuckoo, which was published in 1965 and was filmed by Alan J. Pakula in 1969.
Nichols has also written non-fiction, including the trilogy If Mountains Die, The Last Beautiful Days of Autumn and On the Mesa. John Nichols has lived in Taos, New Mexico for many years.
The first time I read this shortly after its publication I thought it was pretty funny and a fast read. On second reading a decade later I wondered how I could ever have laughed at such bitterness. Our protagonist is shallow and a passive-aggressive misogynist nightmare, and all of the droning interminable descriptions of Zelda's flawless body, hot clothing choices (Nichols dwells weirdly on her skanky wardrobe) and sexy nature couldn't fully explain why this idiot would remain in a marriage to this psychotic shrew after being so blatantly baited and switched. He claims to love women and has a wide array of casual girlfriends from whom he chooses a wife like he's picking out a pair of shoes, then just stands there and watches his life implode when he chooses wrongly. The idea that Zelda would be able to present so radically differently from what she actually was long enough to entangle Roger in this hellacious union strains credulity, and her unrelenting awfulness as a person makes this brief book a traumatic read. If you think relentless emotional abuse, psychotic jealousy and sexual manipulation are funny, this will be right up your alley.
I loved Nichols' New Mexico trilogy, filled with charming, quirky characters and driven by an interesting plot. I really disliked Conjugal Bliss. Satire can cross the line between clever and stupid rather easily, and this one did so repeatedly, always landing on the stupid side.
Nichols' wonderful way with the written world is here. But the story is frustrating. A clearly intelligent man marries a woman who is insane. She gaslights him and he continues to do entirely too much of his decision making with the wrong head. Lots of R Rated sex.
This one is a DNF for me. I simply got bored with it. It is billed as a sex comedy, but I never laughed once. The two protagonists were simply contemptible, and that killed the comedy for me.
There are many ways to read this book: • A womanizer meets his match. • A mysterious woman wrecks havoc on The Writer’s Life. • Non-linearity and the profundity of the relationship between man and woman. • Is marriage state-sponsored ownership? • Co-dependent, meet borderline. • The Cool Girl comes to her senses. • Oops, the Manic Pixie Dream Girl is not a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, after all.
Which is to say, cultural references, pop psychological and intolerance for misbehavior might ruin this book for you.
I’ve read this book twice: before and after I got married. It was a compelling read both times. The first time, I was absorbed in the Tasmanian devilry of the relationship. Of the woman, I thought “What a talented, powerful, terrifying woman!” The second time I read the book, I found myself trying to diagnose and label both the woman and the man. Knowledge can ruin art for you in that way. In any case, the book has a lot of energy to it. I still remember how I felt as I read the last chapter. Maybe I was traumatized?