This review originally appeared on the book review blog justonemorepaige.wordpress.com.

Every little review blurb that I saw about this book included the word “ambitious” in it somewhere. And, not to just jump on the bandwagon, but I cannot think of any other way to say how I feel after finishing this novel. There is no other way to describe the scope of what it covers than to use that word; it is incredibly ambitious. Impressively ambitious. Frighteningly ambitious. Overwhelmingly ambitious.

What is this ambitious book about, you ask? Well, it’s weird. Because I’ll tell you, but you’ll read what I write and no part of it will seem that impressive. This is the story of Lotto and Mathilde. They meet and get married at 22, young, beautiful in a striking (not actually beautiful) way, talented (we are told), and completely in love (in that gross way that makes their friends roll their eyes, but kind of secretly smile at the same time). And this is their story. The first half, the Fates, is written from Lotto’s perspective. Where he came from, his life before Mathilde, and then the story of their marriage told through his eyes. The second half, the Furies, is Mathilde’s – her past, her perspectives (read also: many secrets), and her (semi-spoiler alert) post-Lotto life. Both sections are a gorgeous interweaving of past and present. And it’s a vast story to tell. Spanning both Lotto and Mathilde’s lives in their entirety, first the way Lotto lived it and then with corrections from Mathilde (what any real marriage looks like, really). And that’s it. So you see? It’s just a story of a couple. It’s the lives of two slightly larger than life, but primarily just normal, people. Nothing about that screams ambitious. At least, it didn’t to me. But truly, I come away thinking that this is one of those great American novels - the ones that get recognition for portraying life as it really is, painting the reality of a certain period of time, with all the subtleties therein. Its power lies in the ability to tell us our own reality, but to convince us that it’s something worth writing and reading (in the same vein as a novel like The Grapes of Wrath, or almost anything by Faulkner, its contribution is the uncensored depiction of living a more or less ordinary life during a given period). And in this case, it’s done with language that, while occasionally weighing us down with its depth and intensity, is truly a work of art. The words themselves, Groff’s staccato style for writing passages of grace and beauty, creates a completely original, harsh yet poetic, reading experience. To illustrate, I give you this example: "Grief is pain internalized, abscess of the soul. Anger is pain as energy, sudden explosion." (p. 300).

Truly, I feel like that’s all I have to say about this novel. I mean yes, there are many things I loved about the story itself – the depiction of Lotto as an artistic soul and what all the entailed, Mathilde’s perspective of herself as two different people (her true self and one she attempted to see because that’s who she thought Lotto saw her as), the masterful way that the two perspectives are told separately but by the end balance and explain each other so intricately. And I think some of the supporting characters, Antionette and Chollie, in particular, are fleshed out realistically, fully, and their roles are written exactly as they needed to be. And there were some twists and reveals towards the end that added some perfectly placed new angles and truly changed my opinions/reactions, as the reader, of almost the entirety of what I’d read up to that point (which is just another example of how remarkably written this is). And I loved the deft use of asides throughout, as Groff helped guide the reader to feel and see what she wanted us to feel and see. And maybe it’s worth noting that at times I felt like reading Lotto’s perspective lagged a little, while I felt like I sped through Mathilde’s. And maybe these extra things will help you decide whether or not to pick up this book. But honestly, even though at times I felt bogged down by the story, by the details, I would still recommend this read…and the true reasons for that are all enumerated in that first paragraph. If it’s not enough to know that this book tells a truth, in the same way many great American novels do, that it’s worth reading despite the spots you have to struggle through (because honestly, anyone who tries to say that Faulkner’s works never require that kind of grind is definitely lying), then none of the extra details about my favorite or least favorite scenes and quotes and characters is going to make the difference.

Despite the apparent mundanity of the plot, there is genius here. Some will love the style, the story and some will hate it; I’m sure Lotto could tell you how that feels, struggling to compromise the varieties of feedback about his works. But regardless, you cannot deny the skill with which these dual perspectives were crafted and told. And you cannot deny the truth they hold. If you can make your way through this ambitious story, I think you’ll find, at the end, that it was completely worth it.

To conclude, I leave you with this passage on love, that I feel truly encapsulates the ambiance of this entire work: 'Forgive her if she believed this would be the way it would go. She had been led to the conclusion by forces greater than she. Conquers all! All you need is! Is a many-splendored thing! Surrender to!' (p. 235)