Listening to this story about shame and social fears, and the resulting social isolation and loneliness, was a thought-provoking experience for me. The story is structured around two main characters, indirectly connected by a shadowy third, in separate storylines that don’t converge until the very end of the book. We get to know each of the main characters through their thoughts and observations and memories, but the third character, perhaps the loneliest, we can only come to understand through the memories of the other two. This kept me interested and engaged throughout, along with the wonderfully evocative writing. I know this sounds like a depressing downer of a book, but it really isn’t. There are plenty of upbeat, and even funny, moments sprinkled throughout as the characters deal with their issues, and, while it 

doesn’t promise a neat or even happy outcome for everyone, the ending leaves us feeling hopeful for them.

(spoiler show)

 

 

Format on audio, borrowed from my public library via Overdrive. I think the audio added to the experience of this book – the reader (Keith Szarabajka) for the older MC gave an absolutely genius reading. The reader (Kirby Heyborne) for the younger MC did a competent job.

 

Previous update here

There is a sweet and tender scene, where the MC, a hugely obese older man, is encouraged out of his house for the first time in a decade by the hugely pregnant teenager with whom he has developed a tentative friendship, under the guise of her needing fresh air and a walk to the park. The man cannot walk more than a dozen steps without being short of breath, but she draws on his concern for her health as a pretense for their frequent stops to rest to preserve his pride and dignity. Since this is written from his point of view, you can tell that, deep down, he knows what she's doing, but because his concern and affection for her is genuine, he fully indulges in the gentle fiction.

 

And right in the middle of it, there is the weirdest paragraph where he reflects on the joy of eating and the beauty of other people as they eat. And the description is so lyrical that it is both beautiful and awful at the same time.

I started out absolutely loving this book. The writing was wonderfully evocative, and the MC's loneliness is so touching. The second MC, though. I get that he's an angry teen in a dysfunctional home situation, and that he's also lonely and sad and confused and hating himself. But there's a dub con scene that I was very uncomfortable with, and I've lost any sympathy for him that I had developed. Or maybe that's the author's point. I don't know. Still, it's a compelling story.

I wouldn't normally have chosen to read a novel about a morbidly obese middle-aged shut-in  ex-academic and a High School student and wannabe baseball star with anger management issues but I'd heard that Liz Moore had a strong, distinctive, voice, so I tried the audiobook.

 

It was an excellent decision, not just because Liz Moore writes beautifully but because "Heft"  works well as an audiobook.  The contrasting voices of Kirby Heyborne and Keith Szarabajka draw an even stronger distinction between the world as seen  by the monstrously fat Arthur Opp and the athletic, on-the-brink-of-manhood Kel Keller.

 

In "Heft", Liz Moore takes up the challenge of writing a character-driven novel that features two unsympathetic characters who are leading ordinary lives that verge on the dull. Her achievement is that, by the end of the book  she had managed to tangle them in my imagination enough to make me hope on their behalf.

 

The novel is structured a two parallel stories of frailty, failure and loss that are up-lifted by the accuracy of their observation and the suppression of the authorial voice which forces the reader to make their own judgements on the actions and motives of Opp and Keller.

 

Some of those actions are hard to watch and don't paint Keller or Opp in a positive light.

 

Keller's guilty anger at having to care for his sick and apparently drunk, mother and his encounter, in room strewn with beer cans and smelling of neglect, with the man he believes may be his father, create a bleak picture. One of the most powerful moments, for me, was Keller having sex with a girl from his old neighbourhood  just because she's there and then remaining cruelly passive when he knows the hurt he has caused her. This is the kind adolescent many of us can remember being but would be ashamed to admit to. It speaks to the honesty that holds this book together.

 

Arthur Opp is shown a s man unable to connect to connect to the people around him and who has been corrupted by a morbid desire for food, that ultimately becomes his only source of pleasure. That Opp's life has shrunk as his body has expanded symbolised by his inability to climb the stairs to reach the upper floor of his home.

 

"Heft"  handles big themes: how weakness and shame corrode; how parents can damage their children; how fantasy becomes a substitute for action,; how small practical acts of kindness can kindle hope and the possibilities that open up when we set out to build "families" composed of people we care about.

 

Liz Moore knows how to describe the small victories and moments of kindness that make life worth living. Opp's first walk outside of his house in many years, convey a real sense of risk and triumph. The quiet hospitality Keller is offered by his almost-girlfriend and her family shows the impact of kindness. Both men are motivated to try to be more, to be better, by woman in their lives who can see beyond the failings and fear and the self-hatred to the men they could become with courage and love and time.

 

"Heft" is not a didactic book. It is not selling self-help solutions and does not offer tidy endings. If it has a message, it is: "Life is a mess. Deal with it. But deal with it with as much kindness and empathy as you can manage."

 

Refreshing and unexpected

We expect our movie and television characters being beautiful, successful, or rich. Even when they are ordinary people, they often have beautiful homes and wear great clothes. Literary characters are also often rich, successful, charismatic, or beautiful; if not, they possess amazing talents, powers or secrets. If there wasn’t something compelling about our protagonists, how could we possibly identify with them? Root for them? Engage in their story? Meet Arthur Opp, a 550 pound shut-in who hides from a world that he knows will bring him disappointment and takes comfort in eating. Arthur is not too far off from someone who you might find on Hoarders or Dr. Phil, someone whom you might feel pity and wish they get much-needed help. Amazingly, the author, writes Arthur Opp so that you understand him, empathize with him and want to get to know him. We follow Arthur as he begins to make some changes in his life and eases away from his self-imposed exile.

Arthur’s life changes are triggered by parallel story in the book that follows Kel Keller, a high school senior and promising ball player who is in need of help. While Kel is young and has some promising prospects, he also has been dealt a crappy hand and must play the adult caring for his sick and alcoholic mother. Charlene Keller, Kel’s mother and Arthur’s former student, is the connector between their parallel stories.

So how do things turn out? If you must know, Arthur doesn’t get lap-band surgery, become a vegan, or lose lots of weight. Kel doesn’t become a pro ball player, but he just might go to college. . This is a character driven story which makes what happens less important.