Amazon.co.uk Review
As Quentin Crisp used to say, "Don't keep up with the Joneses! Drag them down to your level!" This could be the motto of the suburbanites in A M Homes's fourth novel,
Music for Torching. Homes has a subtle eye and ear for suburban reality, but beware: she is no mere satirist of what James Joyce called the "muddle crass." Behind each neat, bright lawn, vile lives writhe in darkness. On the surface, Paul and Elaine are conventionally competitive middle-aged, middle-class people with banal yearnings for French doors and a new deck. They have two strapping boys. Their neighbours Pat and George are prodigies of efficient family life. But alone with Elaine, Pat drops the Stepford Wife mask and stages loveless orgies atop the throbbing washer, amid the Downy and Fantastik and Bon Ami. Meanwhile, Paul beds a local wife and a sinister mistress. The nice old man down the street downloads Internet child porn. Local kids join the Boy Scouts and bite off teachers' fingers.
It's all about lurid misery and false fronts: a minor character is named Claire Roth, surely alluding to the bitter relationship in Claire Bloom's Leaving a Doll's House and Philip Roth's I Married a Communist. Paul and Elaine first popped up in Homes' collection The Safety of Objects, as a couple having the happiest night of their lives smoking crack while the kids are away. Their happiest night here is when they tip the barbecue and burn their house halfway down. The story proceeds with a nightmare zombie logic from there, with a funny-scary ironic tone. "Paul notices that the colour of her eye shadow is Fiction, and her lipstick is called Sheer Fraud.... 'What happened to the dining-room table, Elaine? Why'd you chop it to pieces?' he wonders. 'The damage was irreparable,' his wife replies." Homes describes nice people doing not-so-nice deeds in luminous, precise prose far more adeptly than Bret Easton Ellis, as well as Joyce Carol Oates, and occasionally within range of John Updike. But Homes is really the evil spawn of Grace Metalious and Quentin Tarantino. --Tim Appelo
Review
Novelist A.M. Homes must have X-ray eyes. Her novels and short stories peirce through the high sheen of respectability covering American middle-class suburban lives. Beneath the respectable surface, she unearths a world of angst-ridden unhappiness, extra marital affairs, bizarre sexual practices, and plain bad parenting. In her latest searing novel, her subjects are Paul and Elaine Weiss, seemingly ordinary inhabitants of a wealthy New York City suburb. Paul is in advertising, commuting daily to a rather big desk and a very good salary. Paul and Ealine have two sons and a rather nice house, with hot dogs in the freezer, cookies in a jar, a barbecue grill, and friendly neighbours who collect money for the Kidney Foundation. The Weiss family appears to have everything. But this is just appearances. In a desperate attempt to break out of the stifling monotony of their lives, they attempt to burn down their perfect home with fluid for the barbeque. But the house is just singed. The suburban dream begins to crumble. Paul has a masochistic affair via his mobile phone; Elaine falls for the house proud stay-at-home wife over the road. Both children become disturbed. And, although the book was written before the Columbine High massacre, with uncanny prediction it ends with a school shoot out. Suburbia has never been such a terrifying and unsettling territory. (Kirkus UK)
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