Camera Book

Toussaint's take on life: monotonous, boring, and monotonous. And boring, too!

Toussaint's novel: A guy tries to get a license. He meets a cute girl. They try to fill a propane tank for half the book, he files some papers, he takes some driving classes, still no propane, they buy some groceries, still no license, still no propane, they drive around, the car breaks down, they travel by train, and everything is monotonous and boring. Isn't it just like living, Toussaint? You truly, truly get it! Thank you, sir, for reminding me how monotonous and boring life can be by making my life monotonous and boring with your monotonous, boring novel. Before anyone says anything, let me just say that I get that monotony was the point. I got it the first time I read a Toussaint novel (The Bathroom), where it actually worked because it was framed around the monotony and boredom of long-term relationships that are taken for granted rather than cultivated. This time, it just felt pointless.

Oh, and everything is sooooo pensive. In fact, almost every single time Toussaint wants to express what the male lead (Toussaint himself?) is thinking about, he just says he's pensive. He describes every emotional state, every gesture and expression, everyONE as "pensive." It became not only a counting game for me, but (sadly) the most entertaining thing about reading this book. He uses the word "pensive" 8 times in the first 56 pages. Considering the text of the story doesn't even begin until page 7, it works out like so:

56-7 = 49
49/8 = 6.125

He's pensive roughly every 6 pages! One wonders how he even manages to brush his teeth or get a decent night's rest and still squeeze in so much pensiveness. He describes himself as pensive while sitting down in a bathroom stall to urinate. Pensivepissing? Taking a pense, maybe? He walks out of the stall, greets a mildly frustrating situation, and "pensively kicks up dust from the ground" (two or three paragraphs later, seriously). In all fairness, though, the 5th pensive moment stars the Female Character (who has about as much personality as a blade of grass) pensively looking out a window. The 8th time (2 pages later), it's a service station attendant pensively tapping his fingers in his palm (representing, perhaps, the existential crises faced by blue-collar workers? Monotony! Oh, Toussaint, thank you for my pensive retching!)

At least the main character (you know, the pensive guy) is a gentleman. He offers to carry the propane tank, but only until it is filled up and heavy ("my back huuuwwts," he says to The Female in so many words). They go to London, fall asleep in a hotel room, The Female wakes up to him inexplicably "firing his pistol" on her sleeping body, they travel to the train station, The Female falls asleep there, and he wanders off leaving The Female to her rest (in public, unattended and passed out next to her luggage) to go take pictures of himself. "I love you," he tells her one time, then they presumably don't speak again until he calls The Female looking for a ride out of the middle of nowhere at 2am. A true romantic.

Like The Bathroom, this book is easy to read due to sing-songy writing which moves directly from page-to-brain with even the teeniest little bit of effort on the reader's part. However, the redundant word-usage and one-dimensional characters make for an wholly unsatisfying experience. The book just seemed...disingenuous? Was that the point? Yeah, whatever...I'm done thinking about it. At least it was short.