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Overview
Alice has been married to her husband, William, for twenty years. Though she can still remember the first time they met like it was yesterday, these days she finds herself posting things on Facebook that she used to confide to him. So when she’s invited to participate in an anonymous online survey on marriage and love, she finds that all her longings come pouring out as she dutifully answers questions under the name “Wife 22.”
Evaluating her responses is “Researcher 101,” who seems to listen to her in a way that William hasn’t in a very long time, and before she knows it, she finds herself trying hard not to e-flirt with him. Meanwhile, her elderly father is chatting on Facebook, her fifteen-year-old daughter is tweeting, and everything in her life is turning upside down.
Wife 22 is a hilariously funny, profoundly moving, and deeply perceptive novel about the ways we live and love in this technological age, from a dazzling new voice in fiction.
“An LOL Instagram about love in a wired world.”—People
“Vibrant, au courant, and hilarious . . . brilliant!”—Adriana Trigiani
BONUS: This edition includes a Wife 22 discussion guide.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780345527974 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Random House Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 05/29/2012 |
| Sold by: | Random House |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 400 |
| Sales rank: | 909,789 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
1
April 29
5:05 p.m.
GOOGLE SEARCH “Eyelid Drooping”
About 54,300 results (.14 seconds)
Eyelid Drooping: MedlinePlus Medical Encyclopedia
Eyelid drooping is excessive sagging of the upper eyelid . . . Eyelid drooping can make somebody appear sleepy or tired.
Eyelid Drooping . . . Natural Alternatives
Speak from the chin-up position. Try not to furrow your brow, as this will only compound your problems . . .
Droopy Dog . . . eyelid drooping
American cartoon character . . . drooping eyelids. Last name McPoodle. Catchphrase . . . “You know what? That makes me mad.”
2
I stare into the bathroom mirror and wonder why nobody has told me my left eyelid has grown a little hood. For a long time I looked younger than I was. And now, suddenly all the years have pooled up and I look my age—forty-four, possibly older. I lift the excess skin with my finger and waggle it about. Is there some cream I can buy? How about some eyelid pushups?
“What’s wrong with your eye?”
Peter pokes his head into the bathroom and despite my irritation at being spied on, I am happy to see my son’s freckled face. At twelve, his needs are still small and easily fulfilled: Eggos and Fruit of the Loom boxer briefs—the ones with the cotton waistband.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I say.
I depend on Peter. We’re close, especially in matters of grooming. We have a deal. His responsibility is my hair. He’ll tell me when my roots are showing so I can book an appointment with Lisa, my hairdresser. And in return, my responsibility is his odor. To make sure he doesn’t exude one. For some reason, twelve-year-old boys can’t smell their underarm funk. He does run-bys in the mornings, arm raised, waving a pit at me so I can get a whiff. “Shower,” I almost always say. On rare occasions I lie and say “you’re fine.” A boy should smell like a boy.
“Tell you what?”
“About my left eyelid.”
“What—that it hangs down over your eye?”
I groan.
“Only a tiny bit.”
I look in the mirror again. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Well, why didn’t you tell me Peter was slang for penis?”
“It is not.”
“Yes, apparently it is. A peter and two balls?”
“I swear to you I have never heard that expression before.”
“Well, now you understand why I’m changing my name to Pedro.”
“What happened to Frost?”
“That was in February. When we were doing that unit on Robert Frost.”
“So now the road has diverged and you want to be Pedro?” I ask.
Middle school, I’ve been told, is all about experimenting with identity. It’s our job as parents to let our kids try on different personas, but it’s getting hard to keep up. Frost one day, Pedro the next. Thank God Peter is not an EMO, or is it IMO? I have no idea what EMO/IMO stands for—as far as I can tell it’s a subset of Goth, a tough kid who dyes his hair black and wears eyeliner, and no, that is not Peter. Peter is a romantic.
“Okay,” I say. “But have you considered Peder? It’s the Norwegian version of Peter. Your friends could say ‘later, Peder.’ There’s nothing that rhymes with Pedro. Do we have any Scotch tape?”
I want to tape up my eyelid—see what it would look like if I got it fixed.
“Fade-dro,” says Peter. “And I like your sagging eyelid. It makes you look like a dog.”
My mouth drops open. You know what? That makes me mad.
“No, like Jampo,” he says.
Peter is referring to our two-year-old mutt, half Tibetan spaniel, half God-knows-what-else: a twelve-pound, high-strung Mussolini of a dog who eats his own poop. Disgusting, yes, but convenient if you think about it. You never have to carry around those plastic bags.
“Drop it, Jampo, you little shit!” Zoe yells from downstairs.
We can hear the dog running manically on the hardwood floors, most likely carting around a roll of toilet paper, which next to poop is his favorite treat. Jampo means “gentle” in Tibetan, which of course turned out to be the complete opposite of the dog’s personality, but I don’t mind; I prefer a spirited dog. The past year and a half has been like having a toddler in the house again and I’ve loved every minute of it. Jampo is my baby, the third child I’ll never have.
“He needs to go out. Honey, will you take him? I have to get ready for tonight.”
Peter makes a face.
“Please?”
“Fine.”
“Thank you. Hey, wait—before you go, do we have any Scotch tape?”
“I don’t think so. I saw some duct tape in the junk drawer, though.”
I consider my eyelid. “One more favor?”
“What?” Peter sighs.
“Will you bring up the duct tape after you’ve walked the dog?”
He nods.
“You are my number-one son,” I say.
“Your only son.”
“And number one at math,” I say, kissing him on the cheek.
Tonight I’m accompanying William to the launch of FiG vodka, an account he and his team at KKM Advertising have been working on for weeks now. I’ve been looking forward to it. There’ll be live music. Some hot new band, three women with electric violins from the Adirondacks or the Ozarks—I can’t remember which.
“Business dressy,” William said, so I pull out my old crimson Ann Taylor suit. Back in the ’90s when I, too, worked in advertising, this was my power suit. I put it on and stand in front of the full-length mirror. The suit looks a little outdated, but maybe if I wear the chunky silver necklace Nedra got me for my birthday last year it will mask the fact that it has seen better days. I met Nedra Rao fifteen years ago at a Mommy and Me playgroup. She’s my best friend and also happens to be one of the top divorce lawyers in the state of California who I can always count on to give very sane, very sophisticated $425-an-hour advice to me for free because she loves me. I try and see the suit through Nedra’s eyes. I know just what she’d say: “You can’t be bloody serious, darling,” in her posh English accent. Too bad. There’s nothing else in my closet that qualifies as “business dressy.” I slip on my pumps and walk downstairs.
Sitting on the couch, her long brown hair swept back into a messy chignon, is my fifteen-year-old daughter, Zoe. She’s an on-and-off vegetarian (currently off), a rabid recycler, and maker of her own organic lip balm (peppermint and ginger). Like most girls her age, she is also a professional ex: ex–ballet dancer, ex-guitarist, and ex-girlfriend of Nedra’s son, Jude. Jude is somewhat famous around here. He made it to the Hollywood round of American Idol and then was booted off for “sounding like a California eucalyptus tree that was on fire, popping and sizzling and exploding, but in the end not a native species, not native at all.”
I was rooting for Jude, we all were, as he made it past the first and second eliminations. But then right before Hollywood he got a swelled head from the instant fame, cheated on Zoe, and then dumped her, thus breaking my girl’s heart. The lesson? Never allow your teenager to date the son of your best friend. It took months for me—I mean, Zoe—to recover. I said some horrible things to Nedra—things I probably shouldn’t have said, along the lines of I would have expected more from the son of a feminist and a boy with two moms. Nedra and I didn’t speak for a while. We’re fine now, but whenever I go to her house Jude is conveniently out.
Zoe’s right hand moves over her cellphone’s keypad at top speed.
“You’re wearing that?” she says.
“What? It’s vintage.”
Zoe snorts.
“Zoe, sweetheart, will you please look up from that thing? I need your honest opinion.” I spread my arms wide. “Is it really that bad?”
Zoe cocks her head. “That depends. How dark is it going to be?”
I sigh. Just a year ago Zoe and I were so close. Now she treats me like she does her brother—as a family member who must be tolerated. I act like I don’t notice, but invariably overcompensate, trying to be nice for both of us, and then I end up sounding like a cross between Mary Poppins and Miss Truly Scrumptious from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
“There’s a pizza in the freezer, and please make sure Peter is in bed by ten. We should be home soon after that,” I say.
Zoe continues to text. “Dad’s waiting for you in the car.”
I scurry around the kitchen looking for my purse. “Have a great time. And don’t watch Idol without me!”
“Already Googled the results. Should I tell you who gets the axe?”
“No!” I shout, running out the door.
Reading Group Guide
1. Consider the epigraph by E. M. Forster: “Only connect.” How did this inform your interpretation of the novel before and after reading? What is the significance of this quote in a book that so often satirizes our reliance on technology in achieving immediate and constant connectivity?
2. What do you make of the structure of the novel unraveling in part through Alice’s narrative and elsewhere through Google searches, Facebook status updates, and email and text messages? Did you find this made for an organic reading experience, considering how much social media is enmeshed in our daily lives? What did this mode of storytelling reveal about the characters that you might not have otherwise learned? How about the effect of seeing the answers to the marriage survey without first having read the questions? When you arrived at the appendix, did you then match any of the inquiries to their respective responses? Did you find anything surprising?
3. Of her marriage, Alice says that she and William are “floating around on the surface of our lives like kids in a pool propped up on those Styrofoam noodles.” She longs for a deeper connection to her husband, yet struggles to move beyond the monotonies apparent in everyday life. Why, then, does she find it so natural to be candid with Researcher 101? Do you think it’s that much easier to confess truths about ourselves under a veil of anonymity?
4. Researcher 101 writes, “Waiting is a dying art. The world moves at a split-second speed now and I happen to think that’s a great shame, as we seem to have lost the deeper pleasures of leaving and returning.” Do you agree that our access to people and information comes at the expense of developing meaningful connections over time, through patience and dedication? Is it possible to cultivate this kind of slow-budding relationship in a digital age, or are we too hardwired for instant gratification?
5. Alice’s answer to the question of what she used to do—“run, dive, pitch a tent, bake bread, build bonfires”—is much at odds with what she does now—“make lunches, suggest to family they are capable of making better choices; alert children to BO.” Why is it that Alice, in William’s words, insists on keeping herself from the things she loves? How does she go about reclaiming these pieces of her former self throughout the novel, and in what ways do you think she’s transformed by the end?
6. Alice struggles with crossing the threshold into her tipping point year, when she will turn the same age her mother was when she died. She sees this as having to say goodbye; as facing the fact that her mother will never age, never meet William, never watch Zoe and Peter grow. When, if ever, does she begin to perceive this milestone as not so much leaving something behind, but moving into a new future?
7. At one point, Alice recognizes that she “can be overbearing and intense” when it comes to parenting. In what ways do you think her relationships with Zoe and Peter have been affected by her mother’s untimely death? How does Alice’s realization that she has more than just her children enable her to take responsibility for her own life?
8. Much of the novel deals with Alice’s feelings of displacement, of wandering off the trail and trying to find the lamppost. But whenever she strays, William is always the one to remain on course and bring her back home. Why do you think that in an attempt to save their marriage, he finds it necessary to search for Alice behind a guise and not “in real life?”
9. A principal theme of the novel deals with relationships between mothers and daughters, particularly between Alice and her mother, Zoe, Bunny and the Mumble Bumbles. What do the Mumble Bumbles teach Alice about what being a parent means and how does this uniquely constituted group function in her life in general? Did you detect any instances in which Alice was invited to assume the role of a daughter, and how does she apply the lessons learned therein to her relationship with Zoe?
10. How does Gideon use humor to address the challenges inherent in love, marriage, parenthood, friendship and life?
11. Alice admits that she hopes for a richer life with William—“rich in the ability to feel things as they’re happening, to not constantly be thinking of the next thing.” Do you think she’s achieved this after all?
Interviews
A Q&A with Melanie Gideon, author of WIFE 22
Your previous work was your critically acclaimed memoir. What inspired you to turn to fiction, and where did the idea for WIFE 22 originate?
I was sitting in a bar with a friend. We were well into our second glass of wine, when, in researcher mode, I started asking her questions about her marriage. After she invoked a zone of confidentiality I was amazed at how forthright she was willing to be about everything: love, sex, aging, security, happiness and parenting. That's when I knew I was on to something. What if an ordinary wife and mother had the opportunity (and most importantly, the anonymity) to admit what she really thought, felt, wished for and dreamed, regretted and longed for in her life and marriage? Thus WIFE 22 was born.
Who do you think will connect with this novel, and why? Who is Wife 22?
I believe there's a little bit of Wife 22 in all of us, no matter what age, no matter what stage of a relationship you're in: married, single or, "it's complicated!" It's so easy to get stuck in a routine and so hard to get yourself out of it. I think we all yearn to be woken up.
Do you see any similarities between yourself and your heroine, Alice Buckle? Any differences?
Well, like Alice, I am about to celebrate my 20th wedding anniversary with my husband. Unlike Alice, however, I did not receive an email soliciting me to participate in an anonymous online survey on marital satisfaction. And if I did, I would immediately dump it into my trash folder, because I know, after writing this book, how seductive and dangerous the act of confession can be. There are little bits of me in Alice, sure, but Alice is definitely her own person. Also she's nicer than me. And much more fluent with social media.
You pay homage to Joseph Heller and Catch 22 with the title and with a few circumstances Alice faces during the course of your novel. Can you shed a little light on how that came to be and what it signifies?
I think marriage is a sort of Catch 22. It's strange how some of the little quirks and eccentricities of your mate that you found so charming in the beginning—that may have even contributed to you falling in love with them—twenty years later are the things that drive you absolutely crazy.
Many of the novel's characters, especially Alice, engage in social media like Facebook and Twitter. How do you think these methods of communication have changed our lives and the relationships we have with others? How have they changed yours?
I resisted Facebook and Twitter for a long time, and I confess I still find it challenging to post, Tweet or blog. I get incredible stage fright trying to think of something clever to say. People will see it—or worse—ignore it. What if nobody "likes" it? What if nobody comments? It's like middle school every day! Part of what I wanted to explore in WIFE 22 was whether social media brought us closer together or pushed us farther apart. I think it does both. I long for the old days when my husband and son and I would watch a TV show together. I mean really watch it, without our attention constantly flickering to the device on our laps. Watching TV in my household is not a passive act. We're always talking back to the TV, commenting, laughing: that's ridiculous, who told her she could sing? On the other hand I learn things about my husband every day through Facebook. New things. What he's thinking, what he's reading, what he's doing. Facebook allows us to be strangers to one another, to be voyeurs, but in a safe way. There's something about that distance that's titillating.
You've said that "Confession is a powerful aphrodisiac." Can you elaborate?
Anonymous confession? The chance to tell the absolute truth to a stranger? A stranger who doesn't judge, who listens intently, who asks all the right questions? That's very sexy.
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