On one level, it’s the story of a fairly nice young girl, largely ignored by her mother and estranged from her father, who goes off to college, falls into the clutches of a cult, and proceeds to wreck her life, along with the lives of the few people who really cared for her.
On another level, it’s the bitterly funny story of the way the deeply-deluded and stultifyingly self-important people who should be “reporting” the news take it upon themselves to “make” the news. Or, as the title of the novel suggests, they craft “The Narrative.” Google Dan Rather and “JournoList” for some of the egregious examples that are known to the discerning citizens, to say nothing of the DNC email dump that revealed allegedly objective journalists coordinating and clearing their stories with the campaign of the presumptive next President of the Vagina States of America.
With such a wealth of deserving targets, in less-skilled (or courageous) hands such a novel might be a thunderingly dull polemic –– and Lord knows, there are enough of those around –– but this is both outrageous and wickedly funny. I say again, The Narrative is wickedly funny, teeing up the self-deceptions of the Woke Warriors of Journalism.
I expect Ms. Boule one day to be censured for mocking the mentally ill, as she peoples the 24/7 news organization with, among others, someone who identifies as a centaur, with, naturally enough, their own special pronouns. It leads to some biting scenes such as when the Leading American Senator With a Vagina Who Will Be President pays a visit to the 24/7 offices. Like a visit from the Pope, the devout are there to witness the historic event:
“(the Senator) smiled at as many individuals as she could, and the 24/7 professionals expressed their support in his, her, xyr, equis, myz, Zz, or blue own way…Everyone shrieked and shook and reached their hands toward the divine politician who would deliver them from darkness to a world of light, and urine puddled around more than one pair of vegan footwear.”
I don’t want to go into more detail; half the delight of reading the book is saying “Oh, no, she didn’t go there…YES, SHE DID AND SHE’S RIGHT!” There are some truly inspired turns of the phrase that sum-up (and demolish) entire lunatic fringe schools of non-thought. Two words (and this is the only spoiler you’ll get from me): “Prestigiously pigmented.”
This is a work of mad genius. Pretty sure your Bernie Bro nephew and angry, twice- divorced “I’m Still With Her” harridan aunt won’t like it.
For the rest of us, it’s a hell of a lot of fun.
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Click here to purchase Griff’s post-apocalyptic thriller series The Lonesome George Chronicles.
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