This Book Will Keep You Wondering Till the End
But I’m glad I stuck with Jenny Offill’s “Department of Speculation”
Like any good work of literature, Jenny Offill’s “Department of Speculation” borrows heavily from other disciplines, spanning cosmology and German philosophy. Also like any good work of literature, the novel is deeply intimate, told from the point of view of a lost and grieving woman/mother/artist.
It may not sound like much, but from these humble earthly beginnings, a celestial experience is born.
The Plot and Theme
“Department of Speculation” is a love story in three acts. First, an aspiring artist falls in love with her newly born daughter at the cost of her withering career. Then, a bunch of marital turmoil. In the last act, the aspiring artist learns how to fall back in love with husband.
Beneath it all looms her greatest temptation and regret — not her ex, not her philosopher friend with questionable motives, not the yoga teacher that touches her more than other students, and not her enthusiastic ghost writing client.
Her biggest regret, the one that flew away, is her art. “My plan was never to get married. I was going to be an art monster,” she declares early in the novel.
Career or family: it’s a decision that’s all-too-familiar to the modern woman. It’s a generational angst that feeds Ali Wong’s stand-up material and ignites the characters in Little Fires Everywhere.
Career or family: it’s the subtext that keeps the main character of “Department of Speculation” wired with frantic energy. Years after her child is born, she runs into her ex. He’s grayed with age but still handsome. “I must have missed your second book,” he says. She has to explain there hasn’t been one.
At home, she cautiously broaches the subject with her husband:
That night, I bring up my old art monster plan. “Road not taken,” my husband says.
His words are devestating and cruel, even more so because he doesn’t seem to realize how he might have derailed that plan.
The Structure
Just as it pulls from various fields, the novel plays with various structures. (You don’t win a PEN/Faulkner Award and claim a place on multiple “Best Book of the Year” lists without taking a few risks.)
The novel is mostly structured as a series of sonnet-like paragraphs. The paragraphs are so disjointed thematically that the publisher allowed Offill to keep a literal empty line between them just to emphasize the point. (That white space is a lot of money that goes to the printers!) The white space leave much to the imagination, and just like the gap between stars, it’s far from empty.
As the main character’s life and mind unravels, so does the text. Suddenly there’s a change in point-of-view, from first to third person, as if the main character can’t believe it’s her own life she’s living.
One chapter is written like a short story assignment annotated with the teacher’s scathing criticism. (The twist is that the student is the teacher in this case.)
The Big Suck, and the Happy Ending
For all its merits, the book wallows far too long in the second act. I felt like I was being beat over the head with the same point from different angles.
I almost gave up and moved on to the next book, but I only had 20 pages left. Putting a book down before I’ve read through to the end of the acknowledgements section feels like an admission of defeat.
This was one of those rare times my ego actually helped.
I’m glad I stuck with “Department of Speculation.” The last twenty pages really turned the momentum around. The ending built up beautifully and suddenly like a blanket of snow, and the last few descriptions of nature were completely immersive.
I could feel and see the landscape around her. She’d finally brought herself back down to earth.
