REVIEW: The Pisces by Melissa Broder (Hogarth, 2018)
In Melissa Broder’s first work of fiction, we are introduced to Lucy, a PhD student from Phoenix, AZ writing about the gaps in Sappho, who finds herself at the end of her
long-term relationship with Jamie, a scientist who has transformed from chiseled jaw to neck fat before her eyes over the years. After Lucy ends it with Jamie, she finds herself in a deep depression that much like Jamie’s body changes seems to appear without her realizing, but culminates in a depressive episode of disembodied stupor, sleeping pills, and jelly donuts. After an outburst of emotion in a moment of lucidity involving her ex, she finds herself between being arrested and therapy for love addiction. Lucy chooses therapy and ends up in Venice Beach, taking care of her yogi sister’s diabetic dog Dominic in a beach side mansion. Early in her stay she wanders out to rocks on the shore in the middle of the night where she meets a strange swimmer who refuses to exit the water. The reader is taken through Lucy’s attempts to come to terms with her reliance on men and her desire to be autonomous despite them. Enter merman infatuation, Sappho, and the universe.
I found this book daring. Broder does something in this novel unlike anything I’ve seen before. She somehow manages to develop an erotic psychoanalytical, almost mythical, story of a late-thirties woman into a work of modern literary fiction that leaves the reader questioning if it is the most brilliant thing they’ve ever read, the craziest thing they’ve ever read, or perhaps both.
Despite its achievements, there were a few places I found this book falling short—or perhaps, doing too much. I found the psychoanalytical portions of the novel brilliant, as well as the contemplation of Sappho in the process of Lucy analyzing her own feelings; however, when it came to other characters it was as if they were just dumped there and left underdeveloped and ridiculous for no apparent reason. I also found the eroticism too much. I think had the moments been better developed it would have been more excusable, but a few of the moments seemed unnecessary.
Though it lacks in areas, what Broder does in this book, is an achievement. The author seems to be shepherding the world into a new kind of literary fiction filled with feminine desire and myth that belongs in the modern world.