The Marriage Plot

by Jeffrey Eugenides

His best dramatic moments came when the strain on his face from remembering his lines resembled the emotion he was trying to simulate.

“My goal in life is to become an adjective,” Leonard said. “People would go around saying, ‘That was so Bankheadian.’ Or, ‘A little too Bankheadian for my taste.’” “Bankheadian has a ring,” Madeleine said. “It’s better than Bankheadesque.” “Or Bankheadish.” “Ish is terrible all around. There’s Joycean, Shakespearean, Faulknerian. But ish? Who is there who’s an ish?” “Thomas Mannish?” “Kafkaesque,” Leonard said. “Pynchonesque! See, Pynchon’s already an adjective. Gaddis. What would Gaddis be? Gaddisesque? Gaddisy?” “You can’t really do it with Gaddis,” Madeleine said. “Yeah,” Leonard said. “Tough luck for Gaddis. Do you like him?”

That was when Leonard realized something crucial about depression. The smarter you were, the worse it was. The sharper your brain, the more it cut you up.