Reviews for Confessions of Edward Day

The average rating for Confessions of Edward Day based on 2 reviews is 4.5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2009-12-17 00:00:00 James Bowlin Jr When "The Confessions of Edward Day" first came out, a very famous novelist reviewed it (quite favorably) and said that it was a "self-contained gem" because it "never purport[ed] to be more than it seems to be (a tale of ambitious young actors struggling to get ahead in the New York theater scene in the 1970s)." Although I respect the author and her favorable review, this novel is much, much more than a book about struggling actors. Yes, it utilizes the theater and its players to effectively explore its themes, and in doing so says quite a bit about the world of people who pretend to be other people for a living, but at its core, this is a book about the psychology of the individual and the processes at work that shape us into the human beings we become. In the very first sentence of this novel, Valerie Martin has a character make a statement about Freudian psychology. Is it just a coincidence that the novel starts off with a statement about Freudian psychology? Even Freud would tell you "there are no accidents" in life, and Valerie Martin knows this only too well. Her main character, Edward Day, however, is about to find out with unique clarity that there are no accidents in life - after he has a life-altering and self-defining…er…accident. When Edward Day falls off a pier at midnight into the ocean, he is rescued by the enigmatic Guy Margate, a fellow actor and rival for the attentions of Edward Day's love interest, Madeleine. Guy has some unusual distinguishing characteristics, not the least of which being that he looks almost identical to Edward Day. He may be a bit darker in his features, a bit more raw and wild-looking, but the two could be mistaken for each other, their resemblance being so uncanny. From that day on, the two become inextricably linked to each other - Edward, beholden to Guy for saving his life, resentful that he needs to feel gratitude toward a man he does not like - and Guy, now Edward's savior, a man who feels he can impose upon the favors and goodwill of Edward, having saved him from his doom. Guy, in fact, becomes a shadowy conscience and judge who turns up at some of the most significant times in Edward's life. Now, let's get to the backstory, as all good actors do. Edward was the favorite son of a sometimes-distant mother. Late in her life, she left Edward's father, became involved in a lesbian relationship, and…oh yeah…killed herself. The night she killed herself, she called Edward's number several times, never reaching him, because he was busy having his first sexual experience with a woman (Yup…Calling Mr Freud, please pick up, Mr. Freud…). No one knows his mother tried to call him, and he never tells his father or brothers about it. He merely represses the experience, pushes it down and proceeds to look for approval in every woman he meets from that point on. When he falls for a beautiful acting student named Madeleine only to find that she harbors feelings for Guy Margate, we are suddenly smack dab in the middle of a psychoanalyst's wet dream. Can you say Oedipal complex? Displacement? Transference? As the story progresses, the reader is called upon to witness hook-ups and betrayals, tragedies and lies, successes and failures. There are important moments when characters in the story are called upon to make sacrifices, face difficult truths, accept or negate their own actions. Edward likes to portray himself to the reader as the hero of his own story, a man beset by the infuriating intrusions of Guy Margate, a man we are meant to think of as a threat and a sinister force in Edward's life. Guy's attentions to Madeline are seen by Edward as deliberate falsehoods meant only to vex his rival (the term Edward uses to define his and Guy's unique relationship throughout the book). When Madeline goes through some serious life issues, however, we discover that Guy is the one who decides to help her through it, even though Edward believes he is the only one Madeleine truly loves. Edward, often the catalyst for these issues, continually removes himself from the situations, rationalizes that things turn out the way they are meant to turn out, and goes about his business, pursuing his ambitions and his life in the theater. Guy, on the other hand, stays and does the dirty work of real life, sacrificing his incipient career, and attempting to appeal to Edward through the use of guilt and entitlement for having saved his life all those years ago. Tactics that do not, of course, work on the increasingly narcissistic Edward. All three of our main characters are actors, and all three bring different strengths, failings, and emotions to the stage and to their own lives. To take that notion just a step further, due to the book's subject matter, all three could also be considered to represent the three main sections of Freud's triumvirate of psychology: the id, the ego, and the superego. Is Guy an actual human being or Edward's superego? Is Edward an actual complete human being or just the desires and conflicts of his own id? Is Madeline a love interest or Edward's mother, Edward's ego, Edward's feminine? Why does every important woman in the book have a name that starts with "M?" Could it stand for "Mother?" Why does sexual conflict, infidelity, lack of deferment of gratification, and confusing gender issues revolve around the characters and their worlds? In the world of the theater, Guy's two defining roles on the stage involve, first, an all-naked performance in a play that is never named, which he gives to rave reviews and which puts him on the fast track to stage success - and then later in the book, a disastrous turn in another unnamed Broadway play that is beset by accidents (and remember, in this story, a decidedly Freudian story, there are no accidents…), that effectively ends his career on the stage. Later, Madeleine is defined by two roles - Desdemona in "Othello" and Elena in Chekhov's "Uncle Vanya" (the former, a faithful, loving wife who is wronged by her jealous husband; the latter, a "lazy, selfish beautiful siren"). So, which is she, we may ask ourselves? When she is with Guy, they seem to have a loving marriage and a deep bond, and yet whenever Edward intermittently shows up from the road, full of his own needs and concerns, Madeleine always wraps her arms around him and opens herself to his sexual advances. We learn things about her marriage that could paint her as a long-suffering saint - or alternately, a lying little minx, and our question can only inevitably be determined by us. Edward, as an actor, is likewise defined by a series of important roles. The first is Chance Wayne, the blonde gigolo seducing an older woman in Tennessee Williams' "Sweet Bird of Youth." As it turns out, the woman he longs to seduce on the stage he also longs to seduce in real life. She is a dazzling and protective mother figure and, although she significantly helps him in his career and in his depth of emotional range, he is never able to get her into bed. We later witness a turn in Pinter's "The Birthday Party" (a play which involves, threats, seductions and a nervous breakdown, with a sweet love song startlingly wedged in the middle), which Martin juxtaposes with an actual party in the book that mirrors these themes. Soon after, we find Edward successfully playing the role of the contemptuous Jean in "Miss Julie," a Strindberg play in which a sadistic valet takes total control of his weak-willed mistress. (Are we seeing a pattern here?) Much is made of the Stanislavski process of method acting. Some of the greatest acting teachers in theater history are mentioned in the book as being the teachers for our main characters. Mining the sense memories we carry with us is a dangerous business. Our author seems to be asking whether it is harsh and deceptive to use a true tragedy in one's life as a tool in a performance or merely cathartic and a way to offer significance not otherwise found. We are told that Guy never uses sense memory - all of his performances are the result of talented mimicry. He does not choose to lose himself, his true self, in a performance. Madeleine, we are told, is too emotionally involved in her characters, her fragile nature often conflicted and made sick by them. Edward, on the other hand, begins as an inauthentic actor and later learns to mine the world of his own history for truth in his performance, but to what end? Does he use his mother's death as an acting strategy? Is his own guilt bound up in the way he takes advantage of his past? Martin's casual language and matter-of fact writing style betray a depth that stays with the reader long after the story is over. She utilizes the quintessential age-old analogy, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players" to great effect. Martin, however, seems to believe that the parts we choose to play define us, and the themes we choose to explore are not accidental. Obviously, the plays and roles chosen in this novel mirror the lives of the characters we meet. The depths of the emotions they need to fathom in order to bring authenticity to their roles are sometimes so fraught with their own histories and insecurities, that the parts they must play nearly overtake them, and in the end, threaten to ruin them altogether.

Review # 2 was written on 2009-08-26 00:00:00 ART HIGHTOWER Valerie Martin has an unequaled ability to capture the essence of a character and build a page-turning story around it. I was sucked into Edward Day's life as if by an industrial vacuum cleaner, fascinated by his persona and the events that shaped it. As the story progresses, a peculiar tension builds around Edward Day. It is a struggle not between good and evil or anything nearly as mundane as good guys versus bad guys, but rather a growing realization that he may be the villain of his own memoir. I don't believe I have experienced a character such as that since reading Crime and Punishment. This book epitomizes the writer's dictum to "don't tell--show", which serves the theme perfectly. Edward tells his own story, commenting on the actions, appearances, and attitudes of every other character in the piece in ways that ultimately reveal more about him than about them. It's a powerful technique that Martin has clearly mastered. The business of acting in live theater makes a wonderful background for the story. Edward Day is a consummate actor, which also happens to make him the perfect protagonist for this excellent dark novel.