The more I read of a particular genre of modern literature, the more it feels the same. The genre is a relative recent one, looking at well-off white people experiencing a midlife change, usually precipitated by crisis. There’s a familiar pattern to the plots which goes beyond typical story beats and almost down to the sentence level. There’s almost a “find & replace” element to them. A few manage to rise above this but most are middling, not bad but not lyrically rich. A Thousand Pardons lands there.
Like all books in this genre, it starts with an implosion, in this case of Ben destroying his personal and professional life through boredom and a moment of “Is this all that there is?”. This moment allows the Armstead family to grow, each experiencing their own paths to fulfilment although each story not really feeling filling to us the reader.
Of the 3, we spend the most time with Helen, the stay-at-home parent who discovers a talent for PR. Her skill in getting authentic public (or at least authentic appearing) apologies from those who’ve transgressed and from there a career in crisis management drives her plot. Despite spending most of the story with Helen, and an old highschool friend turned superstar Hamilton, and her growth she still feels substantially like the person she was at the start.
Ben’s journey is arguably narratively richer, falling the furthest from white person grace and having some form of a redemption arc, but his growth feels hollow. There’s a degree is self-flagellation but it feels performative rather than authentic. Think a social media apology rather than a loved one saying sorry.
Their adopted daughter, Sara, completes the triad of the family. Her story focuses on growing into her own skin, being the adopted Chinese child raised in a very white household. There are moments here where the story seems to elevate beyond the sum of its parts but it’s always framed through the writer’s own experience.
As with this genre, there’s always a quirky character that acts as some kind of foil to the protagonists to spur their reflections. Here it’s a world famous actor, Hamilton. Think Tom Cruise by with more California mystic nonsense. His b-plot running through the book does the odd character’s Mcguffin task of moving the plot forward but feels even flatter then the main plots by the end.
There’s a gendered way to give an apology apparently. In the research paper, “Sorry to ask…”, psychologists researched how men and women apologize, with men tending towards agency, assertiveness and confidence, while women towards warmer, more communal and nurturing language. I learnt more about how to say sorry through reading those 30 pages, than I did by reading A Thousand Pardons.
