Status
Available
Genres
Collection
Publication
Ecco (2020), 800 pages
Description
Fiction. Literature. HTML: The bonds of family are tested in the wake of a profound tragedy, providing a look at the darker side of our society by one of our most enduringly popular and important writers. Night Sleep Death The Stars is a gripping examination of contemporary America through the prism of a family tragedy: when a powerful parent dies, each of his adult children reacts in startling and unexpected ways, and his grieving widow in the most surprising way of all. Stark and penetrating, Joyce Carol Oates's latest novel is a vivid exploration of race, psychological trauma, class warfare, grief, and eventual healing, as well as an intimate family novel in the tradition of the author's bestselling We Were the Mulvaneys..
User reviews
LibraryThing member nancyadair
An 800 page book doesn't scare me. Some of my favorite books are whoppers.
The number of pages are irrelevant when one becomes immersed in detailed characters, propelled by foreshadowing through their actions and weaknesses, touched by universal truths of human nature.
Oates latest novel explores
I was sucked into the story, eagerly looking forward to reading and learning more about these characters. To discover if I was right about what would come.
Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. begins with the sudden death of a family patriarch. Whitey stopped to investigate what appeared, and was, a case of police profiling and brutality. He was their next victim. He did not survive.
Whitey was 67---my age. He was his wife Jessalyn's reason for existence, her lodestone; he defined her. In deep shock, she plummets into a private despair hidden behind her self-effacing thoughtfulness for others.
The children, as children do, decide what must be done, how their mother should 'be', and when her actions do not conform with expectations, they reel off into obsessions and fears and anger.
The family balance is thrown off. The children carry their individual burdens. Some believed they were 'favorite' sons or daughters, while others strove to gain their father's approval. One had given up trying.
After many months, a man enters Jessalyn's life who takes her under his care. She rejects his attentions in horror, but allows him to slowly change her, alter her, and bring her back into the land of the living.
The children are incensed, complain to each other, demand someone do something. Mom has been acting incorrectly. Mom has chosen the wrong man. Mom has a feral cat in the house.
Oh, I have seen this! The children who resent the second spouse. I myself scared off a woman who had set her sights on my newly widowed father! Yes, I did!
I was increasingly horrified as the novel got darker and darker, delving into the black hearts of these children. They are murderers and self-abusers and suicidal misfits and long-suffering, angry wives.
Each sibling must find their way out of their despair and illness. I expected Jessalyn to change into a 'modern heroine', evolving into her own woman. To leave passivity behind. She finds happiness, but not growth.
This story disturbed my sleep. It was an emotional journey.
I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley. My review is fair and unbiased.
The number of pages are irrelevant when one becomes immersed in detailed characters, propelled by foreshadowing through their actions and weaknesses, touched by universal truths of human nature.
Oates latest novel explores
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the impact of death on a family. I was sucked into the story, eagerly looking forward to reading and learning more about these characters. To discover if I was right about what would come.
Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. begins with the sudden death of a family patriarch. Whitey stopped to investigate what appeared, and was, a case of police profiling and brutality. He was their next victim. He did not survive.
Whitey was 67---my age. He was his wife Jessalyn's reason for existence, her lodestone; he defined her. In deep shock, she plummets into a private despair hidden behind her self-effacing thoughtfulness for others.
The children, as children do, decide what must be done, how their mother should 'be', and when her actions do not conform with expectations, they reel off into obsessions and fears and anger.
The family balance is thrown off. The children carry their individual burdens. Some believed they were 'favorite' sons or daughters, while others strove to gain their father's approval. One had given up trying.
After many months, a man enters Jessalyn's life who takes her under his care. She rejects his attentions in horror, but allows him to slowly change her, alter her, and bring her back into the land of the living.
The children are incensed, complain to each other, demand someone do something. Mom has been acting incorrectly. Mom has chosen the wrong man. Mom has a feral cat in the house.
Oh, I have seen this! The children who resent the second spouse. I myself scared off a woman who had set her sights on my newly widowed father! Yes, I did!
I was increasingly horrified as the novel got darker and darker, delving into the black hearts of these children. They are murderers and self-abusers and suicidal misfits and long-suffering, angry wives.
Each sibling must find their way out of their despair and illness. I expected Jessalyn to change into a 'modern heroine', evolving into her own woman. To leave passivity behind. She finds happiness, but not growth.
This story disturbed my sleep. It was an emotional journey.
I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley. My review is fair and unbiased.
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LibraryThing member jmchshannon
If ever there was bad timing for a book's release, it is the release date of Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. by Joyce Carol Oates. With its discussion of police brutality and bigotry, one would think it is a perfect time to publish the book. However, the police brutality, in this case, occurs
Also, the tragedy that befalls this larger-than-life patriarch is only the impetus for the rest of the story, which is, in fact, more about the dissolution of the family at the father's death. Granted, the scene of his beating is horrible. It is rare for a scene of violence to bother me in a story, but I had a very difficult time pushing through that scene, which occurs within the first few chapters. I almost opted to mark it as a DNF because the scene was so uncomfortable. However, it is a brief flash in an over-long story, seen and then passed over for his death and the aftermath.
The rest of the novel follows the five children and wife of the patriarch as they each struggle to cope with his passing and his impact on their lives. We quickly find that three of the children are horrible human beings. Selfish, angry, racist, and wholly absorbed in maintaining the status quo, you find those scenes that focus on them to be just as uncomfortable as the police beating. They hide behind their white privilege and ability to donate money to worthy causes to justify their racism and abhor anyone who may actually comingle with someone of another skin color, including their mother.
If that were not bad enough, the scenes that focus on the widow and her grief drag on interminably. I read the novel for over an hour one night and still did not get through that first rush of grief the widow experiences. At some point, you no longer care about her suffering and her utter lack of interest in life. As callous as it sounds, you just want the scene to end so that the story would move forward.
In the background of all this is the fact that the family files a lawsuit against the local police department who caused their father's death. It truly is in the background of the novel, mentioned only as a point of the eldest's anger and obsession. Here is another example of where the story's release may not be the most timely. The McClaren family is wealthy. They can afford to seek legal justice for their father, but they are the exception. Ms. Oates discusses the expense associated with such lawsuits and how they can last for years. There are very few families who can afford to take on such cases and pointing out this fact seems rather tactless.
Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. is too much of everything. It is too long. Ms. Oates drags out certain scenes, like the widow's grief and battle to simply survive after her husband's death so that they feel never-ending. Three of the siblings are too selfish. The family exhibits too much bigotry and hatred towards those who are not among the family's class. Ms. Oates tries to soften this through various love interests and a burgeoning interest in social justice within the widow, but it does not feel enough. No one calls the three siblings on their white privilege. The family receives closure in their lawsuit, again something that just does not happen in real life. The entire story made me feel uncomfortable, and not because it forced me to look at my own ignorance regarding racism. I don't feel that the story contributes anything to the Black Lives Matter movement. In fact, as I previously said, it feels more like a statement that white people can suffer at the hands of the police as well, which is the epitome of those who declare "All Lives Matter." I finished Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. rather disgusted with the family, the story in general, and the publisher for releasing the novel. I know Ms. Oates is a literary darling, but this is simply the wrong story for the current situation within the United States right now.
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against a wealthy, white family patriarch, which feels more like a declaration of "All Lives Matter" rather than a timely story that contributes to the fight against racist police violence.Also, the tragedy that befalls this larger-than-life patriarch is only the impetus for the rest of the story, which is, in fact, more about the dissolution of the family at the father's death. Granted, the scene of his beating is horrible. It is rare for a scene of violence to bother me in a story, but I had a very difficult time pushing through that scene, which occurs within the first few chapters. I almost opted to mark it as a DNF because the scene was so uncomfortable. However, it is a brief flash in an over-long story, seen and then passed over for his death and the aftermath.
The rest of the novel follows the five children and wife of the patriarch as they each struggle to cope with his passing and his impact on their lives. We quickly find that three of the children are horrible human beings. Selfish, angry, racist, and wholly absorbed in maintaining the status quo, you find those scenes that focus on them to be just as uncomfortable as the police beating. They hide behind their white privilege and ability to donate money to worthy causes to justify their racism and abhor anyone who may actually comingle with someone of another skin color, including their mother.
If that were not bad enough, the scenes that focus on the widow and her grief drag on interminably. I read the novel for over an hour one night and still did not get through that first rush of grief the widow experiences. At some point, you no longer care about her suffering and her utter lack of interest in life. As callous as it sounds, you just want the scene to end so that the story would move forward.
In the background of all this is the fact that the family files a lawsuit against the local police department who caused their father's death. It truly is in the background of the novel, mentioned only as a point of the eldest's anger and obsession. Here is another example of where the story's release may not be the most timely. The McClaren family is wealthy. They can afford to seek legal justice for their father, but they are the exception. Ms. Oates discusses the expense associated with such lawsuits and how they can last for years. There are very few families who can afford to take on such cases and pointing out this fact seems rather tactless.
Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. is too much of everything. It is too long. Ms. Oates drags out certain scenes, like the widow's grief and battle to simply survive after her husband's death so that they feel never-ending. Three of the siblings are too selfish. The family exhibits too much bigotry and hatred towards those who are not among the family's class. Ms. Oates tries to soften this through various love interests and a burgeoning interest in social justice within the widow, but it does not feel enough. No one calls the three siblings on their white privilege. The family receives closure in their lawsuit, again something that just does not happen in real life. The entire story made me feel uncomfortable, and not because it forced me to look at my own ignorance regarding racism. I don't feel that the story contributes anything to the Black Lives Matter movement. In fact, as I previously said, it feels more like a statement that white people can suffer at the hands of the police as well, which is the epitome of those who declare "All Lives Matter." I finished Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. rather disgusted with the family, the story in general, and the publisher for releasing the novel. I know Ms. Oates is a literary darling, but this is simply the wrong story for the current situation within the United States right now.
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LibraryThing member brangwinn
If there is ever a time for this book, its now. This thousand-page book has race relations at its heart. There’s so much to relate to the George Floyd death. It is the story of a New York state family, but its also the story of America. It lays bare police racism. I was not comfortable reading
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it, but I’m glad I did. Show Less
LibraryThing member pdebolt
This is a character-driven novel of more than 900 pages. Whitey and Jessalyn McLaren have five now-adult children. Whitey has always been the epicenter of the family until an unthinkable tragedy leaves him struggling for his life. The characters and lives of the grown children are all examined in
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depth as they come to terms with the loss of their patriarch. This is a topical book that deals with racism, homophobia and police brutality. In examining the lives of those who love Whitey, we see the effects of birth order when the siblings interact. They are all replete with insecurities. Their mother, Jessalyn, remains a constant, if fragile, source of support. As always, JCO does a superlative job of examining the inner and outer lives of her characters. Show Less
LibraryThing member dbsovereign
This is the first full-length Joyce Carol Oates book that I have read and am finding myself just simply blown away! Concept = 10, Plotting = 9, Writing = 9.5, Characterization = 8.5 and Overall Execution = 10; this is a timely (racial profiling) story about a family and how it faces a death in the
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family... [in progress] Show Less
LibraryThing member ozzer
Oates’ latest is a big book, both literally and figuratively. At ~800 pages, it will keep you busy during quarantine. But there is a lot to chew on here, so it may be well worth the effort. She gives the reader a Shakespearean tragedy with many themes, but her ultimate focus seems to be
Oates views her themes through the lens of a privileged American family, the McClarens. Its patriarch is the essence of white privilege. He is a respected member of his community and a successful businessman with an ideal American family. Not to put too fine a point on it, Oates even nicknames him “Whitey.” Notwithstanding his failed attempt to rescue a man of color from a brutal roadside attack by police, Whitey always was a staunch supporter of law and order when he was mayor of his small NY town. Although never clear to either Whitey or his family, such dissonance stands as an example of our racial hypocrisy. Serving in the role of the king in a Shakespearean tragedy, Whitey ends up dying at the hands of his “guardians” early in the story.
The bulk of the novel then follows his family and how they cope with Whitey’s untimely death. Pretenses quickly disappear and ugliness ensues. Keeping up appearances and seeking revenge seem to take precedence over decency. The chief conflict in the novel is between Whitey’s widow, Jessalyn, and her adult children (Thom, Beverly, Lorene, Sophia and Virgil). Jessalyn, the widowed queen in the tale, becomes unmoored and withdraws to the sprawling family manse on Old Farm Road. This malleable woman struggles to adjust to her new status as a widow. She wanders the place, not unlike Hamlet at Elsinore, questioning herself, abandoning her appearance, donating her wardrobe to charity, misplacing her belongings, talking to the walls, and clutching onto dubious lifelines like a homeless man and feral cat. Eventually, Jessalyn is rescued by a dashing prince charming, Hugo Martinez. Notwithstanding his many admirable attributes, including that of a highly respected photographer, this charismatic man has one overarching flaw. He happens to be Hispanic.
The three older McClaren children object to Hugo primarily due to his race, but secondarily because of the mistaken notion that he is a gold digger. Thom, Beverly and Lorene represent undisguised examples of the dark side of American white privilege. Oates manages to give this trio a witch’s brew of truly ugly qualities. These include bullying, elitism, stale marriages, vindictiveness, narcissism, misogyny, alcoholism, manipulativeness, self-hatred, self-harm, and plenty of delusions about their own worth. The youngest members of the family, Sophia and Virgil are just lost souls. Sophia quit graduate school and is now working as a research lab assistant. She is mistakenly characterized as a biological expert in the family. A notion she is reluctant to correct. Whitey’s death forces her to question the pain and suffering for laboratory animals required by her job and her extra-marital affair with her boss. Virgil is a closeted gay who rejects the materialism of his family until he is pleasantly surprised by the generous bequest he receives in Whitey’s will. He lives on the edges of society in a commune spending most of his time creating underappreciated art.
Oates’ characterizations of the family members brilliantly capture many of the glaring flaws in the notion of American exceptionalism. However, her penchant for using multiple third person narration gives the story an unsettled feel. Also, she eschews any attempt at building suspense by killing off Whitey in the first few pages and quickly dispatching the family’s suit of the town. Furthermore, the unfortunate Galapagos conclusion offers some pretty unrealistic solutions. Eternal happiness may not come from the mutually caring relationship between Jessalyn and Hugo and concern for the planet is unlikely to solve all of the problems they left back home.
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America’s truly troubled relationship with race and privilege. Revelations about our persistent delusions in this regard are indeed timely.Oates views her themes through the lens of a privileged American family, the McClarens. Its patriarch is the essence of white privilege. He is a respected member of his community and a successful businessman with an ideal American family. Not to put too fine a point on it, Oates even nicknames him “Whitey.” Notwithstanding his failed attempt to rescue a man of color from a brutal roadside attack by police, Whitey always was a staunch supporter of law and order when he was mayor of his small NY town. Although never clear to either Whitey or his family, such dissonance stands as an example of our racial hypocrisy. Serving in the role of the king in a Shakespearean tragedy, Whitey ends up dying at the hands of his “guardians” early in the story.
The bulk of the novel then follows his family and how they cope with Whitey’s untimely death. Pretenses quickly disappear and ugliness ensues. Keeping up appearances and seeking revenge seem to take precedence over decency. The chief conflict in the novel is between Whitey’s widow, Jessalyn, and her adult children (Thom, Beverly, Lorene, Sophia and Virgil). Jessalyn, the widowed queen in the tale, becomes unmoored and withdraws to the sprawling family manse on Old Farm Road. This malleable woman struggles to adjust to her new status as a widow. She wanders the place, not unlike Hamlet at Elsinore, questioning herself, abandoning her appearance, donating her wardrobe to charity, misplacing her belongings, talking to the walls, and clutching onto dubious lifelines like a homeless man and feral cat. Eventually, Jessalyn is rescued by a dashing prince charming, Hugo Martinez. Notwithstanding his many admirable attributes, including that of a highly respected photographer, this charismatic man has one overarching flaw. He happens to be Hispanic.
The three older McClaren children object to Hugo primarily due to his race, but secondarily because of the mistaken notion that he is a gold digger. Thom, Beverly and Lorene represent undisguised examples of the dark side of American white privilege. Oates manages to give this trio a witch’s brew of truly ugly qualities. These include bullying, elitism, stale marriages, vindictiveness, narcissism, misogyny, alcoholism, manipulativeness, self-hatred, self-harm, and plenty of delusions about their own worth. The youngest members of the family, Sophia and Virgil are just lost souls. Sophia quit graduate school and is now working as a research lab assistant. She is mistakenly characterized as a biological expert in the family. A notion she is reluctant to correct. Whitey’s death forces her to question the pain and suffering for laboratory animals required by her job and her extra-marital affair with her boss. Virgil is a closeted gay who rejects the materialism of his family until he is pleasantly surprised by the generous bequest he receives in Whitey’s will. He lives on the edges of society in a commune spending most of his time creating underappreciated art.
Oates’ characterizations of the family members brilliantly capture many of the glaring flaws in the notion of American exceptionalism. However, her penchant for using multiple third person narration gives the story an unsettled feel. Also, she eschews any attempt at building suspense by killing off Whitey in the first few pages and quickly dispatching the family’s suit of the town. Furthermore, the unfortunate Galapagos conclusion offers some pretty unrealistic solutions. Eternal happiness may not come from the mutually caring relationship between Jessalyn and Hugo and concern for the planet is unlikely to solve all of the problems they left back home.
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LibraryThing member CatherineHsu
*Thank you to NetGalley for a free e-copy in exchange for an honest review.*
Actual Rating: 3.8
This was surprisingly really enjoyable from beginning to end, and super salient considering how many innocent dark-skinned (specifically Black people) are getting shot by police today without
Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars is a story about a powerful man’s death, and the story about his family coming to terms with it. But even more so, Whitey’s death wasn’t as simple as it seems — he was beaten by police while trying to stop it from happening to a dark-skinned young man, and after his death, one of his sons is wrapped up in a lawsuit in a justice system that is clearly broken.
Never have I read a book that made me so TORN about its characters. I’m used to having my mind made up, either rooting for a character to have the best ending or wanting the worst tragedy to hit them. That definitely wasn’t the case with this book, and to be honest I really appreciate the multitude of emotions these characters made me feel. One minute I hated them, and the next I appreciated some of the things they did.
Let’s be very clear. All of them, except for Virgil, sound like your typical white, Trumpian, rich, suburban conservative, and their offhanded comments about someone’s race or status were enough to make me hate them. Yet, we kept hearing Whitey Whitey Whitey, this parent who just had so much influence over all of their worldviews, that sometimes you kind of get how and why they’re so narrow-minded. You’re not supposed to like them, but you do grow to understand them.
Two characters that stood out to me were Thom, the macho, heir to the family company. Violent and self-righteous. If I knew him in real life, I’d run in the other direction. Toxic. And yet, his pursuit of justice was interesting and relatable and it made sense, even though morally it was for all the wrong reasons. Thom feels like an “the end justifies the means type.”
And the second one was Virgil, practically Thom’s character foil, the runt and outcast of the family. Different and isolated. The quirky artist. If I knew him in real life, I’d probably find him obnoxious. But there was still something about the way he stuck to his principles and his way of life despite the rest of his family looking down on him for it.
The others, like Sophia, Beverley, Lorene, even the widow Jessalyn — were fun to read too, but I have to admit that it really felt like Thom and Virgil were the MAIN ones in the story. And this might’ve been one downside to this book: the fact that there were so many characters made it difficult sometimes to remember who had done what. Jessalyn’s story wasn’t altogether that interesting, but it was about a woman moving on after her husband had died and not feeling guilty, and that was something I appreciated.
And Whitey. Yes, he was dead. He was pretty much only alive for a few chapters, and a soul in a few more. But Joyce Carol Oates did an amazing job with selling us his power, his role in society and in the family. He felt like a main character, and I felt his presence throughout the entire book, even if he was no longer there. He was in how all the characters acted.
The writing style is definitely not your typical novel. It’s a little stream-of-consciousness at times, fragmented, using parentheses and mini exclamations. Surprisingly, I found that this writing style worked really well for me, especially because it felt like it was allowing me to get inside the head of every character and follow their trains of thought.
Ultimately, I’d definitely recommend this one. Even if it did get me a long time to get through — it is 800 pages — it was worth it, and in such a racially charged political climate, it honestly felt like the perfect read.
Actual Rating: 3.8
This was surprisingly really enjoyable from beginning to end, and super salient considering how many innocent dark-skinned (specifically Black people) are getting shot by police today without
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consequences.Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars is a story about a powerful man’s death, and the story about his family coming to terms with it. But even more so, Whitey’s death wasn’t as simple as it seems — he was beaten by police while trying to stop it from happening to a dark-skinned young man, and after his death, one of his sons is wrapped up in a lawsuit in a justice system that is clearly broken.
Never have I read a book that made me so TORN about its characters. I’m used to having my mind made up, either rooting for a character to have the best ending or wanting the worst tragedy to hit them. That definitely wasn’t the case with this book, and to be honest I really appreciate the multitude of emotions these characters made me feel. One minute I hated them, and the next I appreciated some of the things they did.
Let’s be very clear. All of them, except for Virgil, sound like your typical white, Trumpian, rich, suburban conservative, and their offhanded comments about someone’s race or status were enough to make me hate them. Yet, we kept hearing Whitey Whitey Whitey, this parent who just had so much influence over all of their worldviews, that sometimes you kind of get how and why they’re so narrow-minded. You’re not supposed to like them, but you do grow to understand them.
Two characters that stood out to me were Thom, the macho, heir to the family company. Violent and self-righteous. If I knew him in real life, I’d run in the other direction. Toxic. And yet, his pursuit of justice was interesting and relatable and it made sense, even though morally it was for all the wrong reasons. Thom feels like an “the end justifies the means type.”
And the second one was Virgil, practically Thom’s character foil, the runt and outcast of the family. Different and isolated. The quirky artist. If I knew him in real life, I’d probably find him obnoxious. But there was still something about the way he stuck to his principles and his way of life despite the rest of his family looking down on him for it.
The others, like Sophia, Beverley, Lorene, even the widow Jessalyn — were fun to read too, but I have to admit that it really felt like Thom and Virgil were the MAIN ones in the story. And this might’ve been one downside to this book: the fact that there were so many characters made it difficult sometimes to remember who had done what. Jessalyn’s story wasn’t altogether that interesting, but it was about a woman moving on after her husband had died and not feeling guilty, and that was something I appreciated.
And Whitey. Yes, he was dead. He was pretty much only alive for a few chapters, and a soul in a few more. But Joyce Carol Oates did an amazing job with selling us his power, his role in society and in the family. He felt like a main character, and I felt his presence throughout the entire book, even if he was no longer there. He was in how all the characters acted.
The writing style is definitely not your typical novel. It’s a little stream-of-consciousness at times, fragmented, using parentheses and mini exclamations. Surprisingly, I found that this writing style worked really well for me, especially because it felt like it was allowing me to get inside the head of every character and follow their trains of thought.
Ultimately, I’d definitely recommend this one. Even if it did get me a long time to get through — it is 800 pages — it was worth it, and in such a racially charged political climate, it honestly felt like the perfect read.
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LibraryThing member arubabookwoman
Oates frequently takes on topical issues in her novels, i.e. the murder of an abortion doctor by an extremist; the Jon Benet Ramsey murder; the exploitation of Marilyn Monroe by Hollywood, etc. So I thought I was in for a similar ride when this novel opened.
Whitey McClaren, a former mayor in his
So I was ready for an Are the police really going to get away with this? ride. I was interested to see how Oates connected the dramatic opening incident with the BLM movement and the whole police brutality issue. Nope. Instead this whole aspect mostly disappears from the pages of this 700+ page novel, and it becomes a novel of family drama, an Oatesian one at that, with mostly unlikeable characters, including some very over-the-top mean people.
Whitey's family consists of his wife Jesalyn and his 5 children. Jesalyn is the most sympathetic character. She loves her children and sees the best in everyone. She has always lived only for Whitey. She's also a bit annoying, because even for a 60-ish woman she is incredibly naive and unknowledgeable about ordinary skills for daily living--unable to activate a credit card and afraid to write a check.
Thom, the oldest son, is Whitey's heir, and works in the family business. He is the first to suspect that Whitey may not had a stroke, or been in an accident--the airbags in Whitey's car had not been deployed. He photographs the injuries, but is stymied to pursue the matter further when Jesalyn refuses to allow an autopsy. Thom is extremely mean to other family members, especially youngest brother Virgil, and fairly early in the novel he commits an act of animal cruelty so awful I gasped and nearly stopped reading.
The oldest daughter Beverly is a former prom queen, and is whiney and grasping. She's never outgrown her entitled teenage days, and is constantly exhibiting racist attitudes. She's afraid her mother will remarry and squander the inheritance she feels entitled to. She's mad Whitey's will left equal bequests to each of his children, believing she deserves more.
The middle daughter Lorene is a high school principal who hates teenagers and is deservedly characterized by many of the students as a "she-Nazi." Over the course of the novel, her actions become increasingly bizarre and paranoid. One of her first actions is to hack into student accounts to change grades, activities, and/or recommendations to be less favorable so that students she thinks have "trolled" her won't be able to get into the colleges of their choice. She also interferes in various ways in the personal lives of the teachers she supervises, dividing them into those who like her and those who against her, ultimately devolving into what appears to be full-blown paranoia.
The two youngest children are not as bad as the older three. (How on earth gentle Jesalyn raised such deplorable specimens is beyond me.) Sophia has dropped out of a Ph. D. program, is involved with a married man, and is mostly ignored by her family. The youngest, Virgil, is an artist, who has never held a "real" job, and mostly lives in a sort of hippie commune.
So 95% of the book consists of bickering among Whitey's survivors as they navigate the first months and years after Whitey's death. There is very little about the in-your-face issue with which Oates opened the novel. This is not to say that I did not find it an interesting read, though it is perhaps a bit long. It is written in Oates's typical prose style--lots of parenthetical asides--almost breathless, but at the same time in no hurry to get to the point. I think a lot of people are opinionated about Oates; I happen to like her, and despite the unlikeable characters I recommend the book.
3 1/2 stars
Whitey McClaren, a former mayor in his
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late 60's, see the police pull a dark-skinned man from his car and begin brutally beating and tasing him. He pulls over and approaches, calling for the police to stop. Instead of heeding Whitey, the police turn on him (the young man they were beating, an Indian doctor, is now on the ground incapacitated). They tase Whitey several times, beat him brutally, kick him while he's on the ground and leave him unconscious. When he is later brought to the hospital in an ambulance his family are told that he suffered a stroke while driving and had an accident.So I was ready for an Are the police really going to get away with this? ride. I was interested to see how Oates connected the dramatic opening incident with the BLM movement and the whole police brutality issue. Nope. Instead this whole aspect mostly disappears from the pages of this 700+ page novel, and it becomes a novel of family drama, an Oatesian one at that, with mostly unlikeable characters, including some very over-the-top mean people.
Whitey's family consists of his wife Jesalyn and his 5 children. Jesalyn is the most sympathetic character. She loves her children and sees the best in everyone. She has always lived only for Whitey. She's also a bit annoying, because even for a 60-ish woman she is incredibly naive and unknowledgeable about ordinary skills for daily living--unable to activate a credit card and afraid to write a check.
Thom, the oldest son, is Whitey's heir, and works in the family business. He is the first to suspect that Whitey may not had a stroke, or been in an accident--the airbags in Whitey's car had not been deployed. He photographs the injuries, but is stymied to pursue the matter further when Jesalyn refuses to allow an autopsy. Thom is extremely mean to other family members, especially youngest brother Virgil, and fairly early in the novel he commits an act of animal cruelty so awful I gasped and nearly stopped reading.
The oldest daughter Beverly is a former prom queen, and is whiney and grasping. She's never outgrown her entitled teenage days, and is constantly exhibiting racist attitudes. She's afraid her mother will remarry and squander the inheritance she feels entitled to. She's mad Whitey's will left equal bequests to each of his children, believing she deserves more.
The middle daughter Lorene is a high school principal who hates teenagers and is deservedly characterized by many of the students as a "she-Nazi." Over the course of the novel, her actions become increasingly bizarre and paranoid. One of her first actions is to hack into student accounts to change grades, activities, and/or recommendations to be less favorable so that students she thinks have "trolled" her won't be able to get into the colleges of their choice. She also interferes in various ways in the personal lives of the teachers she supervises, dividing them into those who like her and those who against her, ultimately devolving into what appears to be full-blown paranoia.
The two youngest children are not as bad as the older three. (How on earth gentle Jesalyn raised such deplorable specimens is beyond me.) Sophia has dropped out of a Ph. D. program, is involved with a married man, and is mostly ignored by her family. The youngest, Virgil, is an artist, who has never held a "real" job, and mostly lives in a sort of hippie commune.
So 95% of the book consists of bickering among Whitey's survivors as they navigate the first months and years after Whitey's death. There is very little about the in-your-face issue with which Oates opened the novel. This is not to say that I did not find it an interesting read, though it is perhaps a bit long. It is written in Oates's typical prose style--lots of parenthetical asides--almost breathless, but at the same time in no hurry to get to the point. I think a lot of people are opinionated about Oates; I happen to like her, and despite the unlikeable characters I recommend the book.
3 1/2 stars
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LibraryThing member TheAmpersand
I wouldn't exactly call myself a big Joyce Carol Oates fan, but somehow I've managed to read four or five of her novels. I think of her as one of those writers that you check in periodically just to see if your opinion of them has changed. "Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars." has its good points, but
I think it's fair to say that JCO might be our finest graphomaniac. She's basically a one-woman novel factory, and whatever virtues she has as a writer, concision isn't one of them. She tells a good story here, but this thing is eight hundred pages long! Oates also isn't terribly interested in obscuring the themes she's addressing, there are a lot of sentences here that are too on-the-nose. I hate to criticize such an established author, but sometimes I wish that Oates wouldn't address the issues she's dealing with so directly.
"Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars." is, like a lot of other novels by this author, a very contemporary affair, one that speaks directly to the issues of the day. It addresses police brutality, racial tension, wealth inequality as they play out in the familiar Oatsian setting of upstate New York. It's all very "Law and Order." I'm sure there are readers who will find the book's depiction of its more conservative, bourgeious characters less than subtle, but Oates, especially at the end of the novel, does manage to turn these very of-the-moment concerns into a way to talk about larger, more universal themes. It's something that not every writer could do.
Lastly, whatever issues I might have with the perhaps too conventional way that this novel's written, it's clear that Joyce Carol Oates has got the talent that is perhaps most essential for writing good fiction: the ability to make her characters seem like living, breathing people. Even her less sympathetic characters seem wonderfully believable, and I finished this perhaps overlong novel specifically because I wanted to see how they ended up. So maybe this wasn't my cup of tea. Maybe Joyce and I need to spend some time apart! But this is still a pretty good novel.
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I'm not sure that I'm really in tune with Ms. Oates these days. I think it's fair to say that JCO might be our finest graphomaniac. She's basically a one-woman novel factory, and whatever virtues she has as a writer, concision isn't one of them. She tells a good story here, but this thing is eight hundred pages long! Oates also isn't terribly interested in obscuring the themes she's addressing, there are a lot of sentences here that are too on-the-nose. I hate to criticize such an established author, but sometimes I wish that Oates wouldn't address the issues she's dealing with so directly.
"Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars." is, like a lot of other novels by this author, a very contemporary affair, one that speaks directly to the issues of the day. It addresses police brutality, racial tension, wealth inequality as they play out in the familiar Oatsian setting of upstate New York. It's all very "Law and Order." I'm sure there are readers who will find the book's depiction of its more conservative, bourgeious characters less than subtle, but Oates, especially at the end of the novel, does manage to turn these very of-the-moment concerns into a way to talk about larger, more universal themes. It's something that not every writer could do.
Lastly, whatever issues I might have with the perhaps too conventional way that this novel's written, it's clear that Joyce Carol Oates has got the talent that is perhaps most essential for writing good fiction: the ability to make her characters seem like living, breathing people. Even her less sympathetic characters seem wonderfully believable, and I finished this perhaps overlong novel specifically because I wanted to see how they ended up. So maybe this wasn't my cup of tea. Maybe Joyce and I need to spend some time apart! But this is still a pretty good novel.
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LibraryThing member brookiexlicious
Joyce Carol Oates, one of my favorite authors, has written another sweeping family epic, much like her well known novel “We Were the Mulvaney’s”. We witness firsthand a once stable family collapse after the death of the patriarch of the family.
Unlike “We Were The Mulvaney’s” though,
I feel guilty because of how much I love Ms. Oates and her previous works, and I tried to enjoy this book more, but it honestly became a chore to read it and the reason it took me over a month to complete it. Much of the prose in the chapters, particularly Jessalyn’s, were much too long. As a frequent reader of Oates’s work I’m accustomed to her unique style of prose, but after a while it grew tiring. Although I did feel quite sorry for Jessalyn as a character not only because of her husband’s passing, but mainly because her children, (especially Thom, Beverly, and Lorene) were so vile. They had no redeeming qualities and their chapters revealed more of the same. I much preferred Sophia and Virgil and looked forward to reading their chapters.
Despite not enjoying this one, I do eagerly look forward to Ms. Oates’s next book. If this is your first time reading this author, I would recommend skipping this one and picking up “We Were the Mulvaney’s” & “The Hazards of Time Travel” instead.
Unlike “We Were The Mulvaney’s” though,
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I struggled to finish this one. I was intrigued at the beginning of the novel, when we meet the much lauded Whitey McLaren, and then become a bystander to a vicious crime and his ultimate demise. I love books that have alternating character viewpoints, and we get several here, with the surviving members of the McLaren family: the matriarch Jessalyn, and their children Thom, Beverly, Lorene, Sophia, and Virgil. Each chapter is a detailed & lengthy glimpse into their lives before, during, and after the tragedy that has befallen them. I feel guilty because of how much I love Ms. Oates and her previous works, and I tried to enjoy this book more, but it honestly became a chore to read it and the reason it took me over a month to complete it. Much of the prose in the chapters, particularly Jessalyn’s, were much too long. As a frequent reader of Oates’s work I’m accustomed to her unique style of prose, but after a while it grew tiring. Although I did feel quite sorry for Jessalyn as a character not only because of her husband’s passing, but mainly because her children, (especially Thom, Beverly, and Lorene) were so vile. They had no redeeming qualities and their chapters revealed more of the same. I much preferred Sophia and Virgil and looked forward to reading their chapters.
Despite not enjoying this one, I do eagerly look forward to Ms. Oates’s next book. If this is your first time reading this author, I would recommend skipping this one and picking up “We Were the Mulvaney’s” & “The Hazards of Time Travel” instead.
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LibraryThing member write-review
Family. Race. Turmoil. Evolution.
When prominent Hammond, NY, citizen, its former mayor in fact, comes upon what he views as an injustice in progress, a brown man being abused by two white police officers, he steps in. Angered by his interference, the officers turn on him, beating and tasering him
Even in death, John Earle continues to exert a powerful influence over his family of six, wife Jessalyn, sons Thom and Virgil, and daughters Beverly, Lorene, and Sophia, as each comes to terms with his death. As they do, the essence of their characters, long held in abeyance by John Earle’s dominant presence, surface, spurring conflict among them and for their various careers as businessman, artist, homemaker, school administrator, and researcher, respectively. And then there are their various relationships with their mother as they watch her struggle with her overwhelming grief, but even more, their concern and near abhorrence of the emergence of something she’d lost in her marriage, her agency as an independent person. This concern as it regards the new man who enters her life exposes both the racism and class prejudice ingrained in each family member, and by extension American society in general.
Most readers familiar with Oates’ work and life know that the unexpected death of her first husband, author, publisher, and professor Raymond Smith, affected her deeply, plunging her into the depths of depression for six months, until she met Charles Gross, whom she married and who died in 2019. She wrote about her life with and emotional loss of Smith in A Widow's Story: A Memoir. So it will be no surprise that among the strongest parts of Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. are those involving Jessalyn. In some important ways, including the suddenness of John Earle’s death, the depths of Jessalyn’s grief and despair, and her meeting and marriage to another man different from her first husband relatively soon into widowhood, parallel Oates’ own life, adding even more authenticity to the character of Jessalyn.
JCO fans will greatly enjoy this new novel, especially the epic length, as she is never more effective than when she is eating up lots of landscape. Most readers will find the novel an absorbing, and if they allow it, a thought provoking excursion not only into family dynamics but into the most crucial societal issue in American history.
When prominent Hammond, NY, citizen, its former mayor in fact, comes upon what he views as an injustice in progress, a brown man being abused by two white police officers, he steps in. Angered by his interference, the officers turn on him, beating and tasering him
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relentlessly. After, they release the man they’d stopped for nothing more than suspicion of driving black, call 911, and leave John Earle McClaren by the side of the road. Thus begins Joyce Carol Oates’ saga of a family thrown into turmoil as they deal with the loss of their patriarch, as well as racism inherent in American life, for not even this man and his family are immune to it, regardless of John Earle’s selfless sacrifice.Even in death, John Earle continues to exert a powerful influence over his family of six, wife Jessalyn, sons Thom and Virgil, and daughters Beverly, Lorene, and Sophia, as each comes to terms with his death. As they do, the essence of their characters, long held in abeyance by John Earle’s dominant presence, surface, spurring conflict among them and for their various careers as businessman, artist, homemaker, school administrator, and researcher, respectively. And then there are their various relationships with their mother as they watch her struggle with her overwhelming grief, but even more, their concern and near abhorrence of the emergence of something she’d lost in her marriage, her agency as an independent person. This concern as it regards the new man who enters her life exposes both the racism and class prejudice ingrained in each family member, and by extension American society in general.
Most readers familiar with Oates’ work and life know that the unexpected death of her first husband, author, publisher, and professor Raymond Smith, affected her deeply, plunging her into the depths of depression for six months, until she met Charles Gross, whom she married and who died in 2019. She wrote about her life with and emotional loss of Smith in A Widow's Story: A Memoir. So it will be no surprise that among the strongest parts of Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. are those involving Jessalyn. In some important ways, including the suddenness of John Earle’s death, the depths of Jessalyn’s grief and despair, and her meeting and marriage to another man different from her first husband relatively soon into widowhood, parallel Oates’ own life, adding even more authenticity to the character of Jessalyn.
JCO fans will greatly enjoy this new novel, especially the epic length, as she is never more effective than when she is eating up lots of landscape. Most readers will find the novel an absorbing, and if they allow it, a thought provoking excursion not only into family dynamics but into the most crucial societal issue in American history.
Show Less
LibraryThing member write-review
Family. Race. Turmoil. Evolution.
When prominent Hammond, NY, citizen, its former mayor in fact, comes upon what he views as an injustice in progress, a brown man being abused by two white police officers, he steps in. Angered by his interference, the officers turn on him, beating and tasering him
Even in death, John Earle continues to exert a powerful influence over his family of six, wife Jessalyn, sons Thom and Virgil, and daughters Beverly, Lorene, and Sophia, as each comes to terms with his death. As they do, the essence of their characters, long held in abeyance by John Earle’s dominant presence, surface, spurring conflict among them and for their various careers as businessman, artist, homemaker, school administrator, and researcher, respectively. And then there are their various relationships with their mother as they watch her struggle with her overwhelming grief, but even more, their concern and near abhorrence of the emergence of something she’d lost in her marriage, her agency as an independent person. This concern as it regards the new man who enters her life exposes both the racism and class prejudice ingrained in each family member, and by extension American society in general.
Most readers familiar with Oates’ work and life know that the unexpected death of her first husband, author, publisher, and professor Raymond Smith, affected her deeply, plunging her into the depths of depression for six months, until she met Charles Gross, whom she married and who died in 2019. She wrote about her life with and emotional loss of Smith in A Widow's Story: A Memoir. So it will be no surprise that among the strongest parts of Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. are those involving Jessalyn. In some important ways, including the suddenness of John Earle’s death, the depths of Jessalyn’s grief and despair, and her meeting and marriage to another man different from her first husband relatively soon into widowhood, parallel Oates’ own life, adding even more authenticity to the character of Jessalyn.
JCO fans will greatly enjoy this new novel, especially the epic length, as she is never more effective than when she is eating up lots of landscape. Most readers will find the novel an absorbing, and if they allow it, a thought provoking excursion not only into family dynamics but into the most crucial societal issue in American history.
When prominent Hammond, NY, citizen, its former mayor in fact, comes upon what he views as an injustice in progress, a brown man being abused by two white police officers, he steps in. Angered by his interference, the officers turn on him, beating and tasering him
Show More
relentlessly. After, they release the man they’d stopped for nothing more than suspicion of driving black, call 911, and leave John Earle McClaren by the side of the road. Thus begins Joyce Carol Oates’ saga of a family thrown into turmoil as they deal with the loss of their patriarch, as well as racism inherent in American life, for not even this man and his family are immune to it, regardless of John Earle’s selfless sacrifice.Even in death, John Earle continues to exert a powerful influence over his family of six, wife Jessalyn, sons Thom and Virgil, and daughters Beverly, Lorene, and Sophia, as each comes to terms with his death. As they do, the essence of their characters, long held in abeyance by John Earle’s dominant presence, surface, spurring conflict among them and for their various careers as businessman, artist, homemaker, school administrator, and researcher, respectively. And then there are their various relationships with their mother as they watch her struggle with her overwhelming grief, but even more, their concern and near abhorrence of the emergence of something she’d lost in her marriage, her agency as an independent person. This concern as it regards the new man who enters her life exposes both the racism and class prejudice ingrained in each family member, and by extension American society in general.
Most readers familiar with Oates’ work and life know that the unexpected death of her first husband, author, publisher, and professor Raymond Smith, affected her deeply, plunging her into the depths of depression for six months, until she met Charles Gross, whom she married and who died in 2019. She wrote about her life with and emotional loss of Smith in A Widow's Story: A Memoir. So it will be no surprise that among the strongest parts of Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. are those involving Jessalyn. In some important ways, including the suddenness of John Earle’s death, the depths of Jessalyn’s grief and despair, and her meeting and marriage to another man different from her first husband relatively soon into widowhood, parallel Oates’ own life, adding even more authenticity to the character of Jessalyn.
JCO fans will greatly enjoy this new novel, especially the epic length, as she is never more effective than when she is eating up lots of landscape. Most readers will find the novel an absorbing, and if they allow it, a thought provoking excursion not only into family dynamics but into the most crucial societal issue in American history.
Show Less
Awards
Dublin Literary Award (Longlist — 2021)
Language
Original language
English