This summer, Erin Balser is reading all 20 titles on Oprah’s Summer Reading List. The Summer of Oprah will be chronicled on Books@Torontoist every Monday and Thursday throughout July and August.
It took 17 books, but I’m finally struggling to find something to say about an Oprah title. It’s not that Peter Carey’s novel isn’t good (it is). It’s simply that Parrot and Olivier in America is so far outside my realm of experience that I have nothing to hook it into, nothing to ponder, nothing that inspires me to ramble about my own life.
If you’ve been following along, you’ll know these reviews are a little bit self-centred.
Carey tells the story of Olivier de Garmont, a French nobleman (a character clearly inspired by another French nobleman, Alexis de Tocqueville, author of Democracy in America) and a working-class Englishman, John Lisset, aka Parrot. Through a series of unusual events, Parrot comes to work for Olivier’s family at a young age, and when Olivier is encouraged to travel to America to explore the country’s new democratic system, Parrot begrudgingly accompanies him as a secretary/parental spy. Together, the twosome explore America in all it’s fascinating uncultured (their words, not mine, but I’m inclined to agree) glory, following many of the same routes as de Tocqueville’s journey.
It’s obvious how much historical research Carey did for the novel. Nineteenth-century England, France, and America all come to life in deep unfiltered portraits. Many characters are inspired by actual historical figures or archetypes and Alexis de Tocqueville’s own book figures heavily as many of his phrases and opinions find their way into Olivier’s prose. Parrot is a new invention but is an obvious spin on Dickens’ characters. In a lesser author’s hands, this homage would be eye-rolling, but Carey’s makes Parrot a fun and lively throwback that strengthens the setting and surrounding characters.
There are many winks and nudges to history throughout this tale. To be frank, reading this book made me feel dumb. Being Canadian and armed with a science degree, my knowledge of American (and French and British) history is High School level at best, so it was obvious just how many references were whipping by me and less obvious how many more I simply missed. Andrew Jackson is sure to get a lot of laughs as his caricature wonderfully embodies Carey’s rough and tumble America. But all I know about the guy was that he was the seventh president of the United States. I am embarrassed by this fact.
If you’re a fan of Peter Carey, Parrot and Olivier in America has all the author’s usual tricks and twists. It’s laugh out loud funny and dazzling in detail. However, the pace is slower going than it needed to be, and I really didn’t get into the story until Parrot and Olivier crossed the pond to America—nearly 200 pages in. The noble and his servant take turns narrating the tale and while Olivier is supposed to be insufferable (at least, I hope he is), his recollection of his French childhood is nearly unbearable to. I wanted to shake the whiny bastard.
Not only am I ignorant to the intricacies of American history, I’m also unbelievably quick to give up on books. If Oprah wasn’t forcing me, I never would have finished this one. I’m glad I did, but it shouldn’t take nearly half the book before I start to change my mind.
The middle of the novel is a roaring good time as the two enemies are forced to travel together because of Olivier’s parents wishes. The men openly hate each other and slyly one-up each other, such as when Olivier allows Parrot to transcribe how he bedded Parrot’s girlfriend in a letter to his mother. Eventually this twosome begins to respect and—god forbid—like each other, and that’s where the narrative again loses steam. It’s a chaotic book, often told out of order connections between characters left unexplained. Carey does not feel guilty taking the reader on 20-page tangents and drifting back to Parrot or Olivier’s childhood on a whim.
However, despite it’s uneven pace, Parrot and Olivier in America is Carey through and through. At times it’s a rip-roaring ride that crosses an ocean and cleverly dissects American history and culture. While smart and sly, it’s not Carey at is best. For fans, it’s an enjoyable and sometimes thrilling read (if you get through the first half), but if you haven’t picked up Carey yet, try one of his 10 other books first.
However, it’s possible I just don’t get it.
Illustration by Brian McLachlan/Torontoist
I just finished listening to the audiobook of this and it was terrific. The narrator took on the voices of all the characters and it made the story simply pop. I haven’t read much Carey, but will be dipping into his writing again.
The other comment I must make, sharing your Canadian history education (or lack thereof), I actually found myself wanting to read more about American history. Parrot and Olivier brought that period alive, and I was really able to understand how the vastness and plenty of America appeared to the British (and other) immigrants.
Janet-I found it fascinating too, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I would have gotten more out of it if I’d known more about what was going on. Carey did so much research that I felt as a reader I was doing disservice to hi narrative knowing so little.
I love the idea of this book as an audio book. Who narrated it?
The narrator was Australian actor Humphrey Bower. He was fantastic! I borrowed the audio edition from the Toronto Public Library.
Ooh, good to know! Getting into audio books has always been on my to-do list. I love that they chose someone with an accent, it feels very appropriate!