The Topeka School: A Novel Hardcover – October 1, 2019

Overall a thought provoking read. Interesting presentation of inner psychology and formative experiences. At times, the time frame was confusing and I wondered just what the story was even about, but overall the formation of one’s selfhood came clearly through.

This book was certainly a challenging read. If you are looking for a quick, easy read, this is not that book (buy it anyway for when you are wanting something with more depth). This book seemed like it was one long run-on sentence and had a non-linear time line and switches between four interrelated characters; despite this or maybe in spite of this, this novel was a must-read in my opinion and tries to help make sense of the country we now find ourselves in.As I read this book, I have to admit that I wondered how much of it would make sense unless you grew up in Northeast Kansas during the 90s. Likewise, unless you were a Debater or Forensics "nerd" in high school, I wondered how much someone would understand the references to these activities that were discussed throughout the book. Like the author, I grew up in NE Kansas during the 90s (I am ever-so slightly older) and was a frequent visitor to Topeka, so a lot of references were familiar to me. (As a HS Forensics participant, and having had one child (so far) be a Debater, I was very familiar with the numerous Debate and Forensics references). Invariably, we saw protests from Fred Phelps' "church." Most of us, even my ultra-conservative mother, were appalled by the protests, but much like the book states, the objections to Fred Phelps had little to do with the demeaning of the LGBTQ community. While this book touched on a lot of issues, one of the most profound moments of this book for me revolved around the issue of Fred Phelps: Why were the citizens of Topeka (or anywhere) so offended by him when they agreed with him? (Please note: I do not agree with Fred Phelps or his ideologies.)I never imagined that I would receive parenting insight with this book, but as a mom to two boys, the issue of toxic masculinity is a recurrent concern and is something that weighs on my heart. I do not want my boys to think it is acceptable to treat girls/women as only sex objects (as was my experience growing up in the 90s and even still now, ugh!) nor in any way inferior, yet I do not want them to feel that they are somehow inferior or invalidated because they are male.And now, I feel compelled to address the, ahem, elephant in the room. This novel tried to provide a backstory for how Donald Trump happened. Yes, I still live in Kansas, but I can assure you there are cities/areas in this "red" state that are liberal (or purple), much like the family portrayed in this novel. (I would argue that we do not have "red" or "blue" states, we have concentrated areas in each state that lean politically one way and they are better defined by rural, urban, suburban.) The subject of Donald Trump and how anyone can support him is certainly a compelling psychological examination, no matter which side you are on. I think this book makes some interesting conclusions that show how some of this absurd current circumstance even became possible. Which brings it back to the conclusion about Fred Phelps: Why are they offended when they agree? Yikes.So, go find a quiet, comfy space, grab a cup of tea (or coffee), and allot yourself chunk of time to try to read this gem of a book in a single setting (or 2). It's well worth your time.

When I read Mr. Lerner’s work, I often find myself thinking, “I shouldn’t really like this book, but I do.” His stylistic choices and his sometimes strange mixing of fact and fiction are techniques that usually turn me off. And yet, I’ve really enjoyed his previous novels. This time, however, I don’t feel the same. I don’t really like it.I admire it. Ironically, in The Topeka School, Mr. Lerner uses one of my favorite approaches to storytelling, which is telling the same story from multiple points of view. He manages this very well; and yet, it didn’t cover this novel’s flaws.First, as a New York City resident, I was very distracted by his anachronistic use of Duccio’s Madonna and Child at the Met. Every time I go to the Met, I stop to look at it, and I remember when the Met acquired it—or I thought I did. When he first mentions the painting, I actually stopped reading and went to look up when it came to New York to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind. In the acknowledgments at the end of the book he actually notes his misuse of the painting but says it “can stand for the unstable mixture of fact and fiction”. The simple fact that he had to mention it here makes me believe he somehow knows the risk was a mistake. Especially when he can create a scene like the one at the Hippo Playground which is a place I’ve taken my own children (my son loves hippos), and have it ring so true.Second, and also troubling to me, is how, despite his masterly prose giving him fantastic ability to create engaging scenes, I finished the novel feeling that I had gained no deep knowledge about any of the characters. Though there are moments from this book that I feel will stay with me—the Hippo Playground, Jane’s internal monologue as she watches Adam debate, Darren’s walk to Lawrence—they only remain moments. I can’t picture Jane, Adam or Darren in my mind as real people.In some ways, the writing here is so powerful that I want to rate the book higher. Still, I sense this book is one that I will eventually leave behind. Since the characters seem vague, their story, despite its possibilities, comes across as simplistic: growing up with odd and difficult parents, adultery, betrayal. It should be more, but it isn’t.

I had a hard time with this one, primarily because I simply didn't care very much about the characters. Darren came closest to be a real and compelling one; the rest seemed like sketches. (I did like Jane initially but the author did not mine her at all, especially re: how she felt about Jonathan AND her best friend; I had that sinking feeling of "Wow, a man who doesn't understand women wrote this book."Despite all the praise for the writing, I found it pretentious, as well as far too detailed in the endless descriptions of Adam's debates and so forth. I figured this was all autobiographical, and found out later that it is. Why does the author assume it's interesting for anyone else?In the end, I thought "OK, what's the takeaway?" Why did I read it? I know it's been touted as some kind of harbinger with larger themes, but I couldn't find them in the novel. Would taking one tiny step toward accessibility be that difficult? Would it feel less "postmodern," less cool? If so, count me out of cool.

Lerner can move from a perfect four-sentence essaylet on the anomalous kid to an intricately choreographed kegger in a garage where that kid is struggling, as he is both let in and excluded. the Darren situation is SO complex and Lerner somehow conveys it. i doubt there are many writers who can do what Lerner does here!

Beautifully written and unexpected. This feels like a real novel, rather than the thinly disguised autobiographical pieces that the earlier novels read as. I would place this as my third favourite novel of the year. Brilliant guy.

Não foi com pouca ansiedade, nem receio que me aproximei de The Topeka School, terceiro romance de Ben Lerner – um dos meus autores contemporâneos favoritos. Mas surgiu uma sensação de alívio a cada página. O bom e velho Ben (nem tão velho assim) estava lá, mas não apenas o bom-e-velho Ben, há algo de novo, uma maturidade que se encaixa na evolução dos romances dele. Aquilo tudo de metaficçãosobreeumesmomasnãoexatamenteeudeverdade que irrita tanta gente não estava lá – quer dizer, extava mas de outro jeito.A narrativa se situa nos anos de 1990 uma década que até hoje nos influencia – não tanto quanto os anos de 1960, mas ainda assim paira sobre nós, essa década que acabou (junto com o século) em 11 de setembro de 2001. Topeka é a cidade onde Lerner nasceu e cresceu, e tal qual o protagonista, Adam Gordon (o mesmo de Leaving Atocha Station, cuja narrativa é posterior a aqui), participou de campeonatos de debates e foi campeão.O romance investiga uma masculinidade tóxica com honestidade – o pai do personagem, assim como o de Lerner trabalha com adolescentes problemáticos –, e, na medida em que o romance olha para o passado, podemos fazer um diagnóstico do presente. Aquela foi a década o último suspiro da opressão impune. O que não quer dizer que certas coisas foram superadas – mas elas não passam mais despercebidas, o que é já um começo para transformação.A questão central do autor em seus romances anteriores era de como a subjetividade se ligava à arte, e de como essa exprimia o indivíduo no mundo do capitalismo tardio. Isso está aqui, mas a forma como as personagens olham para o mundo, e este para elas é outra. Há outros dois narradores além de Adam: sua mãe e seu pai. E é impressionante como o autor é capaz de criar um trio com vozes distintas. A narradora, por sua vez, tem um papel de destaque, sendo quem é capaz de mais bem figurar a dinâmica do mundo onde vivem, seu lugar social permite isso. Sendo uma autora feminista, seu livro desperta as piores respostas dos homens. Ela recebe ligações anônimas que a chamam de destruidora de lares para baixo. E Jane é obrigada a desenvolver dispositivos para se proteger disso. É um pequeno elemento dentro da narrativa que ressoa grande, e diz muito sobre o estado das coisas.É o livro mais sofisticado de Lerner, no qual ele vai muito além do estado da arte, e leva sua prosa para outro lugar. É um grande livro, mas também uma espécie de problema que criou para si mesmo. O que fazer agora?

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Unlike many of the reviewers, I found the structure of The Topeka School intriguing, intricately patterned, true to life as lived and the way we remember things. I really enjoyed the connections and the way the parts became whole.Nevertheless, I have a few gripes:I do have a problem dealing with, as Lerner acknowledges, 'the unstable mixture of fact and fiction'. I am aware that this is being done a lot now and often makes for absorbing reading, however, it still seems a bit like cheating (using your own life and passing it off as fiction). I am aware that all fiction has to come from somewhere and that writers of traditional fiction also draw upon their own and others' experiences to make stuff up but don't we expect fiction to be more imagined than non-fiction? And, isn't that harder? And isn't it fairer for the reader to know this when they read a literary work?And, as much as I admire and really enjoy Lerner's writing and structure and originality, there lingers, for me beneath the surface, a discernible 'smarty-pants' undergraduate tone. And, more than a touch of self-indulgent whinging from a group of entitled, intellectually superior folk whose endless analysis of their personal problems at times tip into banality. Lerner's writing saves them.