Mother's Milk: A Novel [Paperback]

Edward St. Aubyn's thin novel (235 pages) makes up in acidity for what it lacks in length. It's all about Patrick Melrose, an attorney in his early forties; his wife Mary; and their two precocious sons Robert and Thomas. The clever title has to do literally with Mary's actually breast-feeding both her sons but it also refers to Patrick's often strained relationship with his unraveling aged mother who gives away the family home in the South of France to a New Age guru Seamus Dourke. The author throws in some adultery, thoughts of assisted suicide, the plight of the institutionalized old people and dysfunctional families in general. The action takes place in four Augusts from 2000 to 2003.

What is so exciting about this little novel is its very dry wit, seen most often in the character of Patrick. He calls his wife Mary and himself trainee parents. He opines that newborn babies "can't sweat, can't walk, can't talk, can't read, can't drive, can't sign a check." They are unlike horses who can stand a few hours after they are born. "'If horses went in for banking, they'd have a credit line by the end of the week.'" And sometimes a woman is just a woman "before you light her up."

The author reserves his most biting satire, however, for these United States. Having lost the ancestral home in the South of France, the Melrose family travels to America. While their plane is still on the ground at Heathrow, they spot a woman "sagging at the knees under her own weight." Like many Americans, they are so fat that they have "decided to become their own air-bag systems in a dangerous world." Patrick says he will call himself an "'international tourist on the grounds that that was how President Bush pronounced 'international terrorist.'" Finally there is much ado about the awfulness of American cuisine. The Melroses discover that french fries are not called "freedom fries" on a menu. Patrick decides that is is probably easier to write "God Bless Our Troops" than to reprint the menus. At the Better Latte Than Never coffee shop the waiter tells Patrick to "have a great one!" He sees that as as "hyperinflation" of "have a nice day." Patrick then goes on a tear, suggesting "Have a blissful one." "'You all make sure you have an all-body orgasm,' he whispered in a Southern accent, 'and make it last.' Because you deserve it. . . In the end, there was only so much you could expect from a cup of coffee and an uneatable muffin." Goodness knows that American road food is an easy target for satire. We all can tell horror stories of inedible U. S. restaurant offerings. One has to wonder, however, if this writer has ever tasted victuals in his own country. The only decent food I ever ate in England was in an Indian restaurant.

It is odd perhaps that I would describe this short novel as a "slog," but there it is. While reading it, I spent a lot of time complaining to family and friends about the hateful, annoying novel I was reading. It started out particularly bad. The first section is written from the perspective of the family's five year old. I have to say, I really don't think this guy can write kids, or maybe he was trying to imagine what it would be like to describe the thoughts of a child in very adult language - I dunno. All I can say is it was excessively annoying.

Things get a little better when the perspectives of the adults take over, particularly the pathetic and eternally unsatisfied father and husband, Patrick. Now, I will be honest. What really got to me about this novel is its unrelenting cynicism. I know that other reviewers describe this as 'acerbic wit,' but for me it was just too much. Each and every character is loathesome. Each and every aspect of their lives is a bore and a chore. Now I am a single woman, so I guess I might have to admit that reading about the discontents of married people brings some amount of satisfaction. And in fact, Patrick could be quite amusing in his rants and raves (there were probably not enough of these). Also, I should add that NO ONE dislikes excessive earnestness more than me, but this novel, as I said, was unrelenting. And do I really need to hear multiple descriptions of how disgusting fat people are? I mean, that just comes off as snobbish and unkind, not really witty. And who can't find something good to eat in New York??

As many times as I was tempted to put down this book forever, I didn't - mainly because I have a compulsion that does not allow me to stop reading a book early. But despite this, the book did win me over in a certain way, and its author is a skilled writer, even if he sees no goodness in life, love, family, or any of New York's myriad restaurants. My advice to you? If I were being honest I would say - life is short, go read the Iliad or something. But if you dislike your spouse and regret having children and really hate your mother, you might enjoy it!

One feels St. Aubyn could dive into a sewer, rummage around in the muck and emerge in a freshly pressed dinner suit with a boutonniere in bloom, smelling of cedar and roses and smiling like a shark. He creates believable characters from a once-priviliged family-in-decline and depicts the world-weary grittiness of the protagonist in crisp, elegant language with a style that is direct and light as a feather. Superbly crafted in the manner of the stories in his earlier book, "Some Hope."

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