Published by Hogarth on April 9, 2013
It's difficult to know what to make of The Stud Book. Most of the story is breezy, light comedy, good for a few chuckles, perhaps with the not-fully-realized intent to make some serious points along the way. The novel's ironic ending takes a dark turn. I understand (I think) the point the story is trying to make, but the plot twist is contrived and incongruous. What is supposed to provide a cathartic moment for certain characters results in a "what was that?" moment for the reader. The novel's message -- "everybody matters" -- is expressly stated for readers who might not otherwise get it, but the message is too obvious to be meaningful.
The middle-aged women in The Stud Book are preoccupied, if not obsessed, with babies. They spend much of the novel thinking and talking about babies, although their thoughts and words tend to be the well-worn output of new mommies, non-mommies, and wannabe-mommies. Fortunately, the characters are more interesting than their conversations about babies. As you'd expect in a novel like this, each woman is struggling (although not always believably) with the drama of life.
Georgie and her husband Humble have a new baby, but given that Georgie uses a bottle of Oxycodone as a rattle, she might not be cut out for parenting, her PhD notwithstanding. Her best friend Sarah has no baby but, despite a history of miscarriages, has been working hard to make one (usually with her husband Ben). Dulcet, who teaches high school kids how to avoid pregnancy and generally believes that humanity is a disease, doesn't want a baby. Nyla is a widow; her daughter, Arena, is already in high school.
With the exception of Sarah (who is a bit over-the-top), the female characters -- particularly Arena -- are reasonably convincing. Monica Drake weaves humor into their lives and careers. Sarah works in a zoo, where she can make jokes about animal husbandry while envying the ease with which animals procreate. Arena's expulsion for something she may or may not have done gives Drake a chance to lampoon public school bureaucrats. Nyla's eco-friendly store reflects Portland's acceptance of an amusing counter-culture, while Dulcet gets high and photographs nude women when she isn't teaching students about their bodies.
The male characters are little more than window-dressing, unrealistic stereotypes who exist only to give the women a chance to complain about masculine behavior. Ben fantasizes about his former girlfriend (realistic enough) but what he does in a men's room in his office building is something real guys just don't do in that setting. Humble plays drinking games in a bar instead of hanging out at home with his new baby. Ben joins Humble in the bar instead of staying home with Sarah when she's experiencing a serious health problem. Is there something about Portland that turns men into shameful, insensitive louts?
At times, The Stud Book comes across as a book that follows a recipe: one new mommy, one veteran mommy, one woman striving to be a mommy, one woman who doesn't want to be a mommy, stir together and wait for fun to emerge. The contrivance of four friends representing four contrasting views of motherhood is more forgivable in a comedy than it would be in a book that poses as serious drama, which is one reason why the dramatic moments in the final pages just didn't work for me. To the extent that the novel tries to be Sex and the City (of Portland), it follows a reliable comedic formula. Sometimes the laughs seem forced, but more often they come from genuinely funny situations -- as, for instance, when Nyla uses her kickboxing routine against an unskilled robber, much to her daughter's dismay. It is when the novel becomes ironic and dark that it also becomes unsatisfying.
NOT RECOMMENDED