(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)

Former Chicagoan Elizabeth Crane is just a little too good a personal friend for me to claim I could do an "objective" review of her newest book, last year's We Only Know So Much (BONUS: Listen to my 2007 podcast interview with Crane); but I wanted to get a mention of it up here anyway because I enjoyed it so much, another solid winner in what's always a delightful career. A contemporary human-interest dramedy firmly in the Franzen dysfunctional-family vein, the story is peopled with more eccentric weirdos than a Wes Anderson film -- the wife having an affair with a guy who then dies, the husband obsessed with getting Alzheimer's, the vapid daughter, the nerdy son, the senile grandfather and the pissy 98-year-old great-grandmother -- and Crane builds an interesting, event-filled plot for all of them to go through, the kind of entertaining and charming novel that sleeper low-budget Hollywood hits get adapted from. Given that Crane is mostly known at this point for her short stories, I love seeing her expand here into full novel territory, and this quiet yet sophisticated tale is sure to strike a chord with fans of Jennifer Egan and the like.

Out of 10: N/A ( )

My full response to this novel appears here on Buried In Print.

Thanks to Tolstoy, everybody knows that each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Maybe that's not quite the same as saying that unhappy families make the best stories?

But one could make an argument for that, with Elizabeth Crane's We Only Know So Much.

"At the moment, the Copeland family is a bit at odds."

But you wouldn't know it to look at them. Nor would you suspect it from the book cover.

The cover photograph is striking, with its colonial frame house, traditional black and white with bright red gables, largely obscured by tree cover.

It's an appropriate image, because the Copeland family is seemingly a quintessential American family, but its members are largely concealed (not only from each other, but from their own selves).

The cover image suggests safety and comfort, but the font of the title suggests an impromptu element, something messy if not chaotic. And the cardinal, in-flight, is a mark of whimsy or desperation, depending on the reader's perspective on the situation.

And, inside, the Copeland family. At odds. Unhappy. Or, mostly.

Here's how Elizabeth Crane summarizes it about 25 pages into the novel:

"Review: difficult daughter, know-it-all dad, son sweet and okay if a little weird, mom delayed potential/having affair, great-grandmother bitchy, grandad losing it. So we know where we're starting."

She speaks to you directly, engages the reader directly. WE know where WE're starting.

(This kind of direct address doesn't suit every reader, but I've liked it from the moment I discovered "Dear Reader, I married him".)

The "we" as narrative device is actually more appropriate used in this way than it would have been to have portrayed the family as a "we".

The Copeland family is clearly a collection of "me"s not a "we". They orbit this lovely home like satellites whose paths remain stalwartly distinct.

Take Gordon, the patriarch, previously described as the "know-it-all dad", who is a man standing alone.

"He knows they haven't slept together for a while, chalks it up to 'marriage', tells himself it will change, and that it doesn't mean they don't love each other. But without a doubt this childish quiz has planted a seed. We'll see if he reaps it." (103)

Elizabeth Crane's tone is playful, though not light.

The Copeland family is in crisis.

The chapters are splintered among and by perspectives. Voices are largely internalized, with the occasional dialogue appearing in italics. As much as the reader is included in the "we", they are clearly on the margins of this family's experiences.

And, yet, the novel moves along at a steady pace as the crisis transforms the landscape of the story.

We Only Know So Much is an engaging story. Otis' crosswords, the jelly beans, the bookclub, Jean's imagined magazine article titles, Theodore's papers, the pop culture references, Gordon's trivia onslaught: these details coalesce into a narrative with heart.

Stylistically, we find more whimsy than crafting, but these characters do have staying power. (Whenever I heard the names Gordon, Jean, Priscilla, Otis, Vivian and Theodore, for weeks after I read this, I thought back to Elizabeth Crane's novel.) ( )

In Elizabeth Crane's debut novel, We Only Know So Much, the Copeland family is quite possibly the most hilariously self-involved group of people I've read about in a very long time. I was going to say they are a family but aside from blood relationships and habit, there's very little holding them together as a family at this point. They are quirky, eccentric, and dysfunctional but eminently entertaining.

Four generations of Copelands live together in one large home and every one of them is so focused on themselves and their own problems that they don't see their family relationships completely imploding. Vivian is the matriarch of the family and at 98 years old, although mentally still fully present, she is uninterested in anything that doesn't center around her or her life. Her son Theodore is failing both physically and mentally, stricken with Parkinson's but is still stubborn and sneaky, wanting to maintain a semblance of autonomy in his life. His son Gordon is a pompous, pontificating blowhard who regularly lectures the family on any topic they mention but he is suddenly terrified by the thought that his mind, his most prized possession, is deteriorating. His wife Jean, emotionally unavailable to her family, has been having an affair with a man in her book club who gives her everything Gordon doesn't (and may never have). Contented and fulfilled feeling in her infidelity, she is rocked when her lover hangs himself, finding herself obsessed with the knowledge that as intimately as she thought she knew him she didn't know he was depressed which must mean that somehow his final act reflects on her. Nineteen year old daughter Priscilla is undirected and narcissistic (but then look at her great-grandmother) and her biggest goal in life is to land a part in a reality tv show. Nine year old Otis is just a nice kid but he's falling in love with a classmate and that's enough to make anyone nutty but especially so when his parents barely notice his existence. His mother only spends her time answering Otis's questions about love in terms of her own adulterous affair with the result that Otis understands that lovers kill themselves. And his father lectures and instructs him instead of actually hearing Otis and his newfound uncertainty.

Written in a funny, sarcastic tone, this tale of a family so individually wrapped up in their separate lives is narrated by an unnamed observer who has incomplete access to the thoughts of each of the characters in the ensemble. In addition to this limited access, the narrator shares his or her opinions on each character with the reader directly, giving the narration an air of snarky gossip being passed along. The story follows each character by turns, speculating about what is driving each personal drama and the ways in which these are unacknowledged by the others in the family but also the ways in which these dramas impact the Copelands as a whole, even if they remain ignorant of the origins.

As the story unfolds, each character sinks farther into his and her own self-centered diversion. It is hard to sympathize with any of them besides perhaps Otis or maybe Theodore but they are all highly entertaining to read about. There is not much of a plot here; each individual's dawning realization that they are not in fact their own island is enough to drive the tale. Personal growth through caring and engaging in each other's concerns again is the heart of the novel and watching the characters come to understand this to varying degrees and with varying degrees of success is eminently satisfying. I found myself reading this with a wry grin on my face even as I winced when I recognized some of the traits of these characters in myself and my own family. A fast, enjoyable read, this will remind readers to "just connect," a worthy reminder any time. ( )

A quick little read that I breezed through while putting off reading something that was a bit of a slog. Not a great book, but worth reading if you don't mind run on sentences. If you do mind them then you might want to skip this one. ( )