Tommy Wallach Dodges the Manic Pixie Dream Girl in Thanks for the Trouble

We’ve all been there. You’re sitting in a café, brooding into a mocha, when a lovely wisp of a girl twirls her way to the register, orders something exotic off the menu, then sits down at your table and proceeds to sweep you off your feet, diagnosing and curing your rugged ennui with her sprinkling of carpe diem fairy dust.
Except none of this has ever happened to you. Because it only happens in fiction. Because that is the land where manic pixie dream girls, and their eccentric backstories, live. The MPDG is a trope readers are accustomed to, generally used to define characters who have little agency and no character arc of their own, serving only as a spirit guide leading an often male protagonist toward enlightenment.
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The dashing of this disappointing archetype is part of what makes Thanks for the Trouble, Tommy Wallach’s follow-up to the dazzlingly dark We All Looked Up, so special. In Zelda, the enigmatic silver-haired femme de vivre who is the heart of this story—and who wins the heart of its damaged protagonist—we have all the classic trappings of an MPDG. But. Zelda manages to rise above this distinction, establishing her own importance and complexity outside of what she means to young Parker Sante, our troubled hero. How does Wallach accomplish that and breathe life into this undeniably unique woman? Well, let me tell you.
Zelda and Parker’s relationship is symbiotic
Our story starts when a teenage boy makes the “fundamental human error”: he looks back, this time at a silver-haired girl whose money he has just stolen out of her purse at a hotel. As far as meet-cutes go, it’s not the most romantic, but that’s life.
Each character is dealing with their own damage: Parker Sante hasn’t spoken a word since his father was killed in a car crash five years ago. He’s traumatized and so divorced from connection with other people that he has no qualms about committing petty—or, in the case of Zelda’s wad of cash, major—theft.
Silver-haired Zelda Toth, meanwhile, is a pill. While she looks like a teenager, she speaks and behaves as if she’s far older, dropping anecdotes that stretch back not decades, but centuries. Just who Zelda is, of course, is the central mystery of Thanks for the Trouble, and bit by bit we chip away at it. What we find is that Zelda has just as pain as Parker, if not more. This isn’t a story of a mystery girl “fixing” a brooding young man. It’s a story of two damaged people helping each other begin to heal.
Zelda’s eccentricities don’t define her story
You would think when a girl claims to be more than 200 years old, that would be the most crucial aspect of her character. But with Zelda, you (and Parker) want to know more. You want to know what experiences shaped her, what hurts have happened to her, what joys she’s encountered. And you do find out some—not all—of that, as Wallach transforms what could be a stock character into a fully fleshed fictional fascination. None of this is to say that homegirl potentially being two centuries old isn’t important, because it is; it’s just not the only thing that’ll keep you hooked.
Zelda doesn’t change people’s behavior
Parker doesn’t wake up one morning after enjoying a night of passion with Zelda and suddenly come to grips with everything that haunts him. He doesn’t reconnect with long-lost friends immediately because of her presence, or suddenly overcome his muteness. Instead, Zelda’s existence causes those long-ignored friends to respond to her presence. They’re bolder in their overtures toward Parker, and he in his toward them, because the situation has changed: Zelda alters the equation. The sense is less Mysterious Female Tries to Fix Hapless Boy, and more two people try desperately to understand each other, and in so doing improve each other’s lives. It’s a story of people, not tropes.
Thanks for the Trouble goes on sale February 23, and is available for pre-order now.




