Goodreads Synopsis: The death of Judd Foxman's father marks the first time that the entire Foxman family--including Judd's mother, brothers, and sister--have been together in years. Conspicuously absent: Judd's wife, Jen, whose fourteen-month affair with Judd's radio-shock-jock boss has recently become painfully public.
Simultaneously mourning the death of his father and the demise of his marriage, Judd joins the rest of the Foxmans as they reluctantly submit to their patriarch's dying request: to spend the seven days following the funeral together. In the same house. Like a family.
As the week quickly spins out of control, longstanding grudges resurface, secrets are revealed, and old passions reawakened. For Judd, it's a weeklong attempt to make sense of the mess his life has become while trying in vain not to get sucked into the regressive battles of his madly dysfunctional family. All of which would be hard enough without the bomb Jen dropped the day Judd's father died: she's pregnant.
My Confession: I was first drawn to this book because of the cover. It's not just colorful--it's textured. I'm all for tactile stimulation (which is perhaps why I'll never warm up completely to ebooks), so the sensation of this book in my hands felt about as authentically literary as you can get. Before I even read the summary on the back, I was sold. And once I cracked the pages, I was hooked. Tropper has one of the most fantastic literary voices I've ever read. He's witty, sardonic, self-deprecating, wry, and intuitive, and because of this, he draws us in to his multi-faceted character and the complicated, tangled mess that is his life. After the first page, I was invested. That kind of writing takes incredible skill.
Sitting Shiva: This book, structurally, takes place over seven days, but we're treated to Judd's romantic, scholastic, and familial history throughout the novel. We're thrown so deeply into his head that we feel his fears, his desires. His betrayals are our betrayals, his depression our own. I don't think this story could have been as moving without the first-person narration. Seeing the other characters through the filter of Judd's memories and experiences paints a fulfilling picture. In other words, I didn't need to know their side of the story; I knew and trusted my narrator enough to take his descriptions at face value. Again, a very difficult feat that Tropper does easily. Judd is such an incredibly flawed character, and his family is positively certifiable. What goes down during those seven days (and the past thirty-something years that lead up to the family sitting Shiva) proves the point that relationships, love, and--most importantly, memories--are imperfect. As Judd tries to work through the quicksand of despair that seems to come at him from all angles, he's forced to confront decades-long resentment and guilt. Most importantly, the reader is left with the notion that silence, and a lack of trust in those closest to you, never bodes well. Silence is not golden.
My Recommendation: Every single character in this novel is flawed. Every single one seems to have a secret, a battle, a cross to bear in some way. The way they're tied together makes for one insanely intricate novel. However, the pieces click together impossibly well, and the reader feels just as connected to those characters as Judd does. In fact, in the middle of this read, I felt like I had to physically pull myself out of Judd's skin when I'd put the book down--and I'm a girl. For the first time, I felt like I could relate to and understand a male narrator who, while a bit more dramatic, had worries, fears and doubts not unlike my own. My family is a lot less dysfunctional, but every family has problems somewhere. This is Where I Leave You doesn't bother to romanticize the kinds of relationships most people simultaneously treasure and long for. And that's precisely what makes it so special.
Rating: 4.8/5
339 pages, published by Dutton Adult (Aug. 6, 2009)
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