Break in Case of Emergency review- an extraordinary analyze of an ordinary life

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Theres nothing new about the premise the insecurities of a thirtysomething woman in Brooklyn but its the superb writing and penetrating insights that make this book remarkable

Am I too old for this lipstick? Too young for this pregnancy? What about my job, my face, my shoes am I the wrong age for those too? Women ask themselves these questions because society categorizes us according to age. Categories which overdetermine lived experience, regrettably, tend to mess with ones mind.

Jessica Winters new fiction, Break in Case of Emergency, addresses itself directly to the problem of having to live up to ones age while female. Her protagonist, Jen, is thirtysomething, so her categorical problems relate to reproduction, relationship, status and work. She lives in an unfashionable part of Brooklyn. She writes down every single buy she made in her notebook, with the same pen each time. She takes a lot of Animexa, an Adderall-like substance. Shes marriage. Shes fine in a lot of ways, but also everything is awful, and thats what this novel is about: the madness of being normal, thirtysomething and female.

So, its not about much. On the face of it, Break in Case of Emergency is Bridget Jones-adjacent. You could call it Girls, for women if you were being unkind. Like Helen Fielding and Lena Dunham, Winter takes up the not-problems of an affluent-ish females life and looks at them with generous humor. Jen has the ordinary slate of complaints: task problems, friend problems and baby problems. This is indeed not high-concept drama, and it would be easy to write this book off as chick illuminate, that pejorative word we give to fiction of middling quality about womens lives. These topics are not in short supply in contemporary entertainment.

Against all statistical odds, however, Winters novel is highly good, because it is so well written. On one particularly badday, Jen sits on a bench and mopes 😛 TAGEND

On her collar she could virtually reek the sour breath of her own self-pity. Her self-pity subsisted in part on simple carbohydrates and on the salt mined from the sodium-rich instant soups of a drafty childhood, but it was mostly self-sustaining, feeding on itself, an apparently inescapable genetic susceptibility to self-pity being one of the major reasons Jen pitied herself.

Winter is virtually vicious here in her dedication to truth, her insistence on stimulating us feel Jens pain, then feel all the extra pains that a woman with a bad task and status anxiety sets herself through.

And Winter is joyously and outright cruel about Jens workplace. She has an awful communications job at a nonprofit run by venal, ineffectual in-name-only feminists who waste private funds raising awareness of nothing including with regard to. Unpaid nieces flit around in glam outfits doing nothing, while their director of the glorious name Leora Infinitas also does nothing. In these work scenes, Winter satirizes the bourgeois Manhattanites who spend entire careers appropriating social justice motions for branding purposes and nothing else. There are a lot of them out there, and Winter captures their self-regarding bullshit with remarkable precision.

But Winter goes awry when she also mocks Jens sorrows, which are sad. Or, instead, its hard to tell: is Winter just being realistic when she makes Jens sadness seem ridiculous, or is she critiquing her? For example, Jen has a husband, and they are trying to have a baby. Having newborns is hard, often expensive, and it doesnt always work. Jens heartbreak over the not-baby is sometimes animal and raw but often its faintly silly. When somebody else has a baby, she is distressed but passive-aggressive about it 😛 TAGEND

Then she rolled up the New Yorker, stuffed it into her tote, fished out her telephone, and tapped out a Congratulations from Jen and Jim on the fourth floor! And stared at the screen, contemplating whether or not to add more exclamation points, whether they would enhance or belittle the enthusiasm communicate in her joyous reply-all.

She decided on four explanation points, then deleted one of them, then sent.

This book is somewhatopen to the charge of white-whining: a highly educated, married woman in New York feels sad because her friends are richer than her, and she doesnt get to have a baby right away, and her task sucks. How tragic! But Break in Case of Emergency is not a political fiction it is a human one, a book about basic human dreads. Jens problem is that she feels incompetent even when she is competent. She feels inauthentic even when she is real. Jen has a lot, but she feels she has nothing. This is just how it feels to be human, I guess, but it is an unusually diffuse topic for a novel. Break in Case of Emergency does not be questioned whether these problems are valid. It asks the reader be wondered whether a persons problems can be serious and complex and important even though they are everybody elses problems too.

Winter answers in the affirmative. She explores Jens believes: we do not encounter her problems as complaints, but instead as the conditions that Jen, as a intellect, must navigate. Instead of overdetermining the meaning of being female and no longer young, Break in Case of Emergency complicates and diffracts that category into an experience so individualized and believable that the concept thirtysomething female feelings incidental to this volume about being a person. In this style, Winters novel functions in the opposite way to a volume like Ian McEwans Saturday, in which the pregnant woman is a boiled-down symbol, concentrated and juiceless as Sunny Delight.

If our culture is obsessed by the nervousnes of microgenerations, that preoccupation is dwarfed by our interest in the narrative sequence of womens lives. We want to be told when a woman should marriage, work, reproduce, get home from run and feed her breakfast. We want above all to be told what it entails for a woman to be of child-bearing years. Winters novel explains that no, there is no meaning: there is only convention versus the individual. What happens, happens, and mostly nothing means anything.

But ordinary women of reproductive age dont have to be symbolic bit players in good fictions , nor bumbling Bridget Jones-alikes in insulting comedies: females merit bildungsroman, pure and simple. Break in Case of Emergencyis a high-quality tribute to ordinary experience, which induces it an extraordinary debut.

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