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320 pages, Paperback
First published August 1, 2017
There was a darker brown stain on our brown suede couch. If I swept it one way with the palm of my hand, it almost blended in. I could squint and forget it was even there, but then a swipe in the other direction, and the stain reappeared, darker than I remembered, like I'd just fed it.
Everyone had a different story about the stain. Simone said I'd pissed the couch as a toddler, after running free from our mother's bundle of towels, just out of my bath. "You went straight for the couch, stood right there on the armrest, grabbed your half-inch wang, and aimed," Simone said. "I saw it, and Aurore and Jeremie, we never understood what came over you, Dory. It's like you were on a mission."
The father and I were the only ones to actually go in the sea. He swam while I threw myself at oncoming waves, not too far from the shore, waiting for him to swim back to me. That's as close as I could get to sharing something with him, even though I was scared to go far out like he did.
My parents didn't look very much in love to me, and I thought it was my fault. I guess it's what happens when you're the only one to notice a thing: you feel responsible for it. They didn't really kiss, just a dry smack on the lips in the mornings when the father left for somewhere. They only seemed to exchange practical information about appointments or taxes, sometimes us. I thought they were waiting until I was old enough to move away to get a divorce.
I believed if I ran away from home, it would make my mother happy. She always complained we weren't adventurous enough, and while my siblings usually met her remark with the same indifference they granted statements of personal opinions in general, I, the youngest of the six of us, took it to heart. I didn't want to be blamed for others' quirks. I wanted to be my own man. To be different. I mean, I had no choice but to be different (I wasn't as smart or as good-looking as my brothers and sisters), but I had no particular idea what kind of person I should be either. I thought I could at least try what my mother had in mind and be adventurous.
Anyway....The Mazel family are all highly intelligent....but rather cold....distant....loners for the most part who spend much of their time indoors studying. Even when tragedy strikes, the announcement is monotone....and the immediate reaction (by family members) a non-event, but there is grief.
Among the six children, the focus is on the youngest, Isidore....who prefers to be called Izzy vs. Dory. Izzy is just about twelve, an obviously caring and sensitive young man....unlike the rest of the family. He has an excellent memory, but no friends to speak of and spends much of his time trying to figure out how to fit in....understand adults, or....trying to escape them.
HOW TO BEHAVE IN A CROWD is described as a "darkly comedic novel" and although I did laugh out loud a few times; overall, I found it to be rather sad....even shocking and heartbreakingly so in one instance....but I loved Izzy....his courage to ask tough questions....his ability to figure things out, and the way he gave comfort.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Crown Publishing for the ARC in exchange for my honest review.
"I loved my family, I believe. Even though I'd known no other and couldn't really tell, I thought they were all right, decent people. But oblivious. They got lost in their thoughts. They had no sense of the other—of anyone outside our family, sometimes even me."
"My parents didn't look very much in love to me, and I thought it was my fault. I guess it's what happens when you're the only one to notice a thing: you feel responsible for it."
"[Leonard] had said...that Flaubert and Bourdieu were the two smartest men who had ever lived. I was four when Leonard made that speech, and the reason I remember it is because I hadn't really been aware that anyone existed outside of our family before that, and hearing that there not only were other names than ours (Flaubert, Bourdieu) but that they belonged to smarter people than my parents, that no one around the table—not even my parents—objected to it, made me panic and I started crying."
"Unlike the kids I went to school with, the adults in the church looked friendly, and sad, and all in all it was a good experience. I'd always thought I was the saddest one in my class (except for Denise Galet), and to see that sadness might become a normal trait with age left me feeling hopeful."