Coming of Age; or Maybe Not
There must be a million coming-of-age novels, from classics like Emma and Tom Jones to modern novels such as The Secret Life of Bees. It’s a literary form that has been written from the viewpoint of both genders and from many an age, but it’s also a form that has a recognized structure and progression. At some crisis point in his or her life the youngster embarks on a journey, either physical or metaphorical, that takes him or her across the bridge from childhood to adulthood; concluding in realization of the powers and responsibilities of that adult. Sexual awakening is sometimes present, often hinted at, but not absolutely necessary. Note that I said “youngster”: coming of age usually focuses on the transition from chronological youth to adulthood; less often on transition from social youth to adulthood. And then there is the third form of transition: emotional… the probable topic of Scott Spencer’s Willing.
Avery Jankowsky’s personal crisis is palpable: Deirdre, the much younger woman with whom thirty-seven year old Avery lives, has dropped the bombshell that she has been and continues to be unfaithful. Said announcement rocks the freelance journalist’s tidy, circumscribed world; not least because his essentially hand-to-mouth finances mean that he’ll find it difficult to afford to live alone. What’s a boy to do? [note the personal disaster that is essential to a coming-of-age novel]
That’s when a white knight, in the form of Avery’s uncle Ezra, appears bearing an unusual, not to mention expensive, solution to both his fiscal and his personal difficulties. A bosom buddy of Ezra’s has comped the elderly gentleman for a two-week, all expenses paid sex tour. And not a sex tour to the unsavory brothels of Thailand; this one will… errr…. “introduce” its participants to a variety of gorgeous northern European women in such venues as Reykjavik, Oslo, Riga, and Copenhagen. Just imagine all those willowy, long-tressed ABBA lovers attentive to one’s every – and I do mean every – desire. How can Avery not leap at such a chance, especially when he can document the trip and sell his memoirs for a pretty penny – not to mention get even with the wayward Deirdre. And so that’s just what Avery does: he sells the rights to his story for the mid six-figures, climbs in a taxi, and heads for the Fleming Tours terminal at LaGuardia to join his fellow “tourists.”[note the journey (physical, if not also metaphorical) that is expected in the form]
A prime tenet of journalism is that the writer must remain outside the story, reporting rather than participating: “embedded” takes on an entirely different meaning for the freelancer surreptitiously (he hopes) recording his impressions of a journey that consists mainly of hopping from one bed to another; from pair of willing (financially, anyway) arms to pair of willing arms. Avery’s intent to remain a disinterested participant, however, will not last: Sigrid and then Nina will see to that.
But if Avery was envisioning an idyllic romp in a series of white-sheeted featherbeds with willing blond Barbies, his hopes are soon dashed: the romps are anything but idyllic, the beds aren’t feathered, and the local hookers aren’t Barbie-esque; and to make matters worse, there is strife among the ranks of the tourists – but Avery ain’t seen nothing yet: the biggest surprise of all is yet to come… [here’s where that “bridge” should be crossed]
Though twice nominated for the National Book Award, nine-time novelist Scott Spencer (Endless Love, A Ship Made of Paper) shows none of the literary flair one might believe necessary for such acclaim in Willing. Instead, he’s frittered away a promising premise on a novel that, though occasionally amusing; generally succeeds only in being boring, and sometimes downright irritating. Even the characters are unsatisfying: Spencer’s first-person protagonist is little beyond a superannuated teenager suffering from a truncated Oedipus complex. At the ripe old age of thirty-seven, Avery Jankowsky should be a decade – in fact two decades – beyond his coming of age. Yet here is a man who clearly has plenty of growing to do; and if Willing is a coming-of-age novel then it fails because Avery Jankowsky is every bit the emotional adolescent on page 244 that he was on page one. So much for coming of age, eh?
Oh, sure, Spencer can occasionally pull a literary rabbit out his hat, such as Avery’s continuing struggle to catch a glimpse of the tour leader’s reflection in a mirror (is Castle actually a demon? A vampire?). He can at times reveal startling insight into the human condition, such as Avery’s conversations with tour company employee (not in the carnal sense) Stephanie. And he even strings together words pleasantly: ”My own exhaustion was circling me like a boxer eager to end the fight; I closed my eyes for a moment, and, boom, I was gone.” But in the end a book that fails to interest is a book that fails to interest; no matter how Willing the reader might be.
For a book that’s supposed to be about coming of age on a high-priced sex tour, Willing turned out to be surprisingly dull.
As an aside… not only does Spencer cleave to the current literary fashion of eschewing quotation marks, he’s gone the prescriptivists one further: he doesn’t bother to break dialogue into paragraphs:
“That was a hell of a thing you did back there, Castle said, draping his arm over my shoulder. The biting? I said, showing my teeth, trying to make light of it. Look the most important thing here, Avery, is that whatever happened…”
Geez. Somebody give the man a few gross of quotation marks and a Return key for his birthday, will ya?
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