I read this book based on a recommendation from the Chicago Public Library's staff picks on their website. And it had a pretty cover that reminded me of Sleater-Kinney's latest album cover. (I know, I know). And I had nothing else to read, and had some recent good luck picking random books on whim based on the CPL website or friend recommendations.
Hausfrau is German for House Wife. It follows a depressed and bored housewife, American born, living in Switzerland. She is married, has three children, no job. She suffers from depression. And feeds her emptiness by having multiple marital affairs. The novel follows her struggles in the present day, flashbacks to the early days of her marriage, an earlier affair (leading to the consummation of her third child), and sessions with her psychiatrist. And I stuck it out for the 300+ pages thinking - ok, this has got to be going somewhere, right? No. Bitch gets more and more annoying, digs herself a deeper and deeper hole, the shrink talk gets more and more boring, and there's nothing interesting about the book at all - although the writer is talented enough to lead the reader on to thinking that it might be. You eventually realize you hate the protagonist, (although I'm pretty certain that's not the writer's intent), and you want the bitch to hurry up and kill herself. And then she does. And the book is over.
And you feel dirty and upset that you wasted several hours you could have been playing Candy Crush on your phone reading this stupid depressing garbage.
Let me be clear, I'm not against this book because the protagonist is not a saint and has self-identity issues. I can almost relate to some of the feelings she experiences in some ways from a motherhood perspective. (For example, if I was a stay at home mother with three children in a foreign country who's language I don't speak - I'd be pretty fucking depressed and lonely, too! In my three months of maternity leave and even on some days alone with the kiddo, I can and have felt emotions of uncertainty and emptiness, but I cough it up to fatigue). But this bitch is just empty and annoying. And full of all sorts of woe is me, but never does anything about it. No self empowerment. Fucking dudes just because they ask her, but never any self admittance of nymphomania tendencies. But there's never any trigger - or circumstance - or depth revealed as to why the character is set upon this deep spiral of destruction. Not that there necessarily needs to be a tangible incident, but still - if you're going to interweave all these sessions with the shrink - have them lead somewhere, not just fill pages to lull the reader to sleep and mislead them on. So yeah, skip this one. This book sucked ass. I've never been so grateful for a character to off themself.
I rate this book, 1/10. 1 for the pretty cover.
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