Susan Rieger

The Short of It:

Mothers and daughters and the hard places in between.

The Rest of It:

Like Mother, Like Mother is an amazing read. The first half of the book is mostly about Lila and her rise to editorial glory. She is a powerhouse. She knows how to ask a question, knows how to get the story and her energy seems endless. But being successful comes with a trade-off. She told her husband Joe early on that if they had kids, they would mostly be his. His to raise, his.

This is absolutely the case. show more Grace and her two sisters did okay without Lila in their lives, because Joe was an amazing father. As the girls grew into women, it became clear, especially to Grace that Lila was a different kind of person. Not exactly dismissive of her children, but that she didn’t really know HOW to be a mother to them. Look at her own childhood. Lila’s own mother, was committed to an asylum but then disappeared. Could she have intentionally left her children to that horrible abusive man? Yes.

The story unfolds slowly as Grace begins to dabble in DNA testing. As you can imagine, this uncovers a few surprises. I liked how the author set this book amidst political upheaval but used a different President to illustrate society on the cusp of falling apart. So there is constant tension as Lila must endure a brutal political season before retirement.

This book is absolutely about mothers and daughters but really it’s about relationships. Lila’s upbringing affects her marriage, it affects Grace’s opinion of marriage and motherhood. The people they interact with and befriend are also affected by these relationships. What’s interesting is that although Lila really does her children wrong, I still had empathy for her because she didn’t have it in her to be the mom they needed and she knew it right from the start.

To Grace though, attending White House dinners over dinner with your own kids just doesn’t sit right. She wanted the mom that baked cookies and attended parent teacher conferences. Not the glittering, multi-faceted Lila. But what can you do? You can’t choose your own mother.

I really enjoyed this book. It’s a little high brow, but deep and with plenty of flawed characters. I was pulled right into the story from the first few pages. You can’t say that about too many books. It would be a wonderful book to discuss in book club.

For more reviews, visit my blog: Book Chatter. show less

I was a bit worried about this one when I hit the "transcription" of the intake interview that the main character had with her client. The language was stilted and definitely literary--no matter how I fiddled with the tones in my head, I just couldn't imagine anyone actually speaking the way they did.*

Fortunately, we were not subjected to many instances of actual talk--this clever epistolary novel is told in legal office memos, emails between friends, extracts from state laws, and court show more summaries. Sounds dry? I could easily imagine people who would think so. The key parts of the state laws were highlighted to save a reader from having to read the whole thing.

Which is hilarious, because reading the whole thing is totally my thing.

I'm the person who, when reviewing the family history files, didn't want to pull only my great grandparents' pages from their middle school yearbooks because the whole thing had a story to tell--so this was a great book for me. I got to read the memos, the case summaries, and I loved it!

Don't let my description so far put you off, though. It's amazing how much I learned about the characters, who were all lovely and complex, with great backgrounds (one of them uncomfortably familiar). I do quibble the reality of all this personal information being shared in office memos (does any workplace act like that these days?), but it built such real-sounding people that I'd like to know, and a world with the reality of casual sexism and the people who have to confront their own internalized privilege while also navigating a normal, rocky life.

I was a bit skeptical at first about the fact that the story was set in the made-up city of New Salem in the made-up state of Naragansett, but I think that was done entirely for practical purposes, so that state laws could be simplified for us non-lawyerly readers. What started out feeling gimicky ended up being quite well-developed an nuanced.

Unfortunately I wasn't quick about my type-up, which means I probably have fewer details than usual. Suffice it to say, I really enjoyed this book and would definitely encourage anyone looking for some adventurous reading to give it a try.

*I read an ARC, so it's entirely possible this was edited a bit later (though given how final-looking everything was, it's unlikely).


Quote Round-Up


p 26 (Excerpts from an article by a lawyer about divorce): In my experience, men rarely leave, no matter how unhappy they are, unless there's another woman. ... The obverse doesn't hold. if the woman is the one who is asking for a separation, there may not be anyone else. A lot of women simply want out; they fantasize about being alone, sitting in a white room with no phone.
Not quite sure what the second half of that last sentence means, but otherwise an interesting observation. I'd have liked to have read the whole article, because it sounds interesting, but it would have bogged down the narrative structure.

p 34 (The intake interview transcription): I almost lost my patience here. This was where I kept trying on different tones of voice for Mia and coming up blank--there was just no way I could get what she was saying to sound like something someone would actually say. It would be great as an internal dialogue--I hope the author writes more in the future--but for supposedly spoken words? Nope, not working for me.

p 91 (Note from Mia to her would-be ex-husband): In his letter, Mr. Kahn addressed me as Maria. If he does it again (or calls me Mia), I won't sit down in a room with the two of you and negotiate.
What might have been casual sexism later looks more deliberate, but this caught my attention as I read the letter from Mr. Kahn because it's something I see and hear so frequently: men referred to as "Mr. X" and women called by their first names, or even nicknames, in the same situation. Just plain disrespectful!

p 187 (An email from Sophie to her best friend):Never get divorced. The things you fight about are so demeaning. Everything comes down to money. I keep thinking of Oscar Wilde's definition of a cynic as someone who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. He was talking about a divorce lawyer.
Was tickled to see this turn up. I actually see this quoted rather frequently on the economics list!

p 271 (A letter from Mia's father to Sophie's boss): You're not Jewish, are you? It's fine, of course, if you are. I was just wondering.
You wouldn't expect a scuzzball stupid enough to say this to turn out to have any redeeming qualities in a book...but he does. That's what I like about the complexity of these characters: they're so real in having their little hidden horrors that you kind of pretend not to hear because they're otherwise so nice. I know people exactly like this guy, but we still end up liking him--even if part of the reason I love his daughter is her threat to withhold his granddaughter until he wakes up and smells the antisemitism on his own breath.

p 321 (An email from Mia to Sophie): I didn't want to bother you on the phone again, bu I thought you'd want to know about my follow-up conversation with my asshole husband, the eminent oncologist.
Have I mentioned that I love Mia? Because I love Mia: her frankness, her self-awareness of her ridiculous wealth, her upper-class snobbishness, her rough-and-tumble fighting words. The best of the 1%.

p 394-395 (A psychologist's report on Mia's daughter): A child in Jane's class had been sent to the headmistress's office for swearing at Liz [a teacher]. The parents were called in and the father made a scene. He started yelling, in the hallway, at Liz for making a fuss about nothing. Ms. Meiklejohn, who was fetching Jane, saw what was happening. She went up to the father and said, 'Excuse me, but you're a fucking asshole.' The father swung around and yelled at her, 'Who the hell are you, and where do you get off calling me a name like that?' Ms. Meiklejohn said, 'Well, that's what my daughter told me your son said to Ms. Sugarman, though he didn't say "Excuse me." I thought it was rude, but I wanted to test it on someone. I see it is rude, and upsetting.'
HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I LOVE MIA? BECAUSE I LOVE MIA! show less

This is compared to The Nest quite a bit, but other than there are people who inherit money in both stories, I don’t think they’re similar. This novel is deeper, sheds more light on relationships and has much more nuanced characters. The structure is a bit deceptive on its surface; each chapter is named for a person and you wouldn’t be alone in expecting a first person narrative, but that’s not what you get. The book is highly expository. Much is told, but not much is shown. Normally show more I hate that, but with a book this slim it’s the way things have to be. Rieger packs a lot of emotion and subterfuge into each section of the story, netting things together cleverly and in a satisfying way.

Ostensibly this book is about the heirs; five brothers and their mom who are left to cope with a surprise or two after dad dies. As in life, you won’t like everyone (I personally thought Eleanor was a moron), but Rieger confines herself to telling about the interesting only. Each section confirms ideas and events from other sections, but introduces new ones that will be enlarged upon later. After a while you can’t help wonder who will do the enlarging. I will admit that some of the brothers (Tom and Jack mostly) are so lightly included that I couldn't really keep an image of either in my head.

Another subject I thought well drawn was the difference between knowing who your family is/was and not knowing. How not knowing leaves you free to pursue your own goals and dreams. Eleanor is from a prominent New York family and has her entire personality shaped by her repugnant and ignorant mother. She is subject to her will and demands, even breaking an engagement (also at the behest of the man’s mother, bound by the same insufferable ideas about what is proper). Her marriage to Rupert, while much more acceptable, is interesting considering he’s an orphan of even more dubious origin than the unacceptable ex. But because of that, he’s grown up exactly how he wants, throwing off the chains of expectations. Their marriage isn’t founded upon the modern idea of love and romance, but on esteem and practicality and sex. It works. No one but the reader sees into the heart of it and while it may be clinical, it is a little bit enviable. The surety of feelings that seem more solid and lasting than just love alone.

I also liked the sexual slavery foisted on Rupert and Eleanor’s father. One escaped his and had a fulfilling and enjoyable life, even though he wasn’t entirely free of Vera. The other succumbed and was shackled to a harridan for life. Well almost. Never was a death more welcomed I don’t think.

Spoilery -
There is a conflict about money, but it isn’t intrinsic to the family and frankly, these people are so well-off that it wouldn’t have been a hardship for them to share. But any early sympathy the reader might have for Vera gets dashed and a new conflict is set up in wondering why Eleanor caved and set up a trust fund for her. Out of all the sons, only Sam is really curious about Rupert’s alleged other family. It seems to be tied up in the lust for a baby which is a tough thing to deal with if you’re a gay man. I liked the solution with Susanna though. Why should all families be exactly the same?

I also liked the side-story with Jim, Eleanor’s ex-fiance. So much of that relationship was made of by Jim and wife Anna, but in Eleanor’s mind it barely existed. She moved on so thoroughly that it was hard for the other two to understand that at all. Both tried inserting themselves into Eleanor’s life, but for different reasons. Her rudeness was refreshing at times, just like Rupert’s Grandma slap downs.

Overall this was an elegantly constructed novel that doesn’t suffer the meaningless bloat of many these days. It’s tight and has good humor throughout and use of irony and juxtaposition. The end is a little neat; everyone seems to get what they want and live happily ever after. Well almost. show less

Very well-written and wonderfully oblique. Despite addressing adultery in many different forms, it is told in a way to absolve those involved of any blame and manages to make them seem likeable. The story centers on Eleanor and Rupert Falkes just after his death. By all accounts, their marriage was a happy one that produced 5 sons (and 'not a "duffer" among them'). Eleanor (nee Phipps) came from New York society ("that class of New Yorker whose bloodlines were traced in the manner of show more racehorses" 2) and though it was the 1960s, she was forbidden from marrying a Jew (Jim Cordoza), so she married Rupert, an English orphan, who had made his wealth and respectability in the US and was as rebellious as Eleanor could get. After Rupert's untimely death to cancer, a woman (Vera Wolinski) surfaces and claims to have 2 sons with him who have rights to his inheritance. The family is thrown into turmoil, though maintains their upper class decorum and each son plays his prescribed role in the face of the threat. The sons (grown men) are charming and the family dynamic is really endearing, anchored by Eleanor, though Rupert was an involved father. Eleanor's father is also a likeable character and her relationships with men (husband, father, sons, former lover) show her strength and poise. The reality of the supposed affair is shared with the reader, but is never clearly resolved to the family. There are other instances of cheating and while the concept is abhorrent to me, the way it is deftly handled here makes it more of a case study in ethics than a heavy-handed morality tale. show less