From Amazon.com
The Effect of Living Backwards, Heidi Julavits's second novel, is a mess--but a good mess, an ambitious mess. The title is taken from
Through the Looking-Glass, and Julavits's narrator--named Alice--certainly wanders into a perplexing wonderland. She and her sister Edith are flying to Morocco, where Edith is to be married. The plane is hijacked by a charismatic, chubby blind man named Bruno. After a time, the hijacking appears to be an extended moral case study: Bruno forces his hostages to consider whether they would give their own life to save another. The hijacking, it turns out, may or may not be real; Bruno may or may not be blind; Alice may or may not be falling in love with Pitcairn, the hostage negotiator who's supposed to save them all. As she unspools her black comedy, Julavits displays a wildly discursive style; the book can seem overwritten. But as her plot gains momentum, so too does Julavits's writing, and her tortuous sentences begin to make sense: they reflect the awkward situation of the heroine. After a supper of candy and punch, Alice tells us she and her fellow hostages "suffered extreme intestinal discomfort, which made the lavatories more unspeakably filth-ridden, and tempers, whose foulness is always proportional to the decrepitude of a WC, began to fester." On one level, this is an unhappy sentence; on another, its very contortions are funny. So it is with
The Effect of Living Backwards, which, in its patience-trying elegance, recalls the underrated novelist Nancy Lemann. This is a brave novel, aggressively intelligent and aggressively silly all at once.
--Claire Dederer
From Booklist
Unconditional sisterly love gets a twisted boost of adrenaline in Julavits' novel.
Two sisters go on a wild ride aboard Moroccan Air Flight 919, which results in a hijacking by a blind terrorist and his bungling crew of cohorts. Edith and Alice have traveled the world over with their eccentric parents and are far from a pair of innocents. In fact, perverted games of psychological warfare are an essential part of their naughty sisterly bond. They revel in what they call the "Shame Stories," and Julavits sends the mind reeling with these morally deficient excerpts of human debasement and vulnerability. The novel is such a potent melange of physical terrorism and sublime sardonic manipulation that its intricate layers become an all-consuming vehicle for pondering the human condition. Julavits' writing style is a sophisticated balance of suspense, humor, and intellectually stimulating prose, which produces a novel unfit for the easygoing reader because of its intense and profoundly dark undertones.
Elsa GaztambideCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved