FICTION
“Love May Fail”
By Matthew Quick
HarperCollins, $25.99, 400 pages
Matthew Quick left a tenured teaching position at a posh South Jersey high school to chase his improbable dream of becoming a novelist. It took a few years, but the gamble more than paid off with his debut, “The Silver Linings Playbook.” The 2012 movie adaptation racked up eight Oscar nods and a best actress statue for Jennifer Lawrence. Quick’s next six books, including three young-adult novels, have all been optioned for film.
Knowing Quick’s backstory comes in handy when sorting through the various plot lines of his latest, “Love May Fail,” which hinges on friction between an aspiring writer and a disillusioned teacher. The adult dramedy could almost be called a spiritual sequel to “Playbook.” Both feature damaged characters returning to Collingswood, a working-class suburb of Philadelphia, where important conversations ensue at landmarks like the Crystal Lake Diner (Pat and Tiffany’s date spot in the previous novel). Like “Playbook,” “Love May Fail” weighs the virtues of personal reinvention against the risk of misguided goals.
The novel opens with 40-year-old Portia Kane fleeing her Tampa mansion and marriage to a philandering porn mogul. She recalls advice from Mr. Vernon, her favorite high school teacher: “Make daring choices, work hard, enjoy the ride, and remember — you become exactly whomever you choose to be.” If that’s true, she wonders how a former Olive Garden waitress and over-the-hill trophy wife can rediscover lost portions of herself.
A serendipitous conversation with an elderly nun raises the stakes and sets Portia “on a quest to become a novelist.” The first mission: locate Mr. Vernon.
Early chapters stay lively and sharp even while dropping names like Gloria Steinem, Philip Larkin and Samuel Beckett. Quick’s tone grows heavier but no less sarcastic once Portia gets to her mother’s ramshackle home, stacked floor to ceiling with toilet paper rolls, cases of Diet Coke and rubbish by the ton. “Some people you just can’t resurrect,” Portia decides, “no matter how much you love them.”
She does resurrect her white jean jacket from high school, the perfect choice for drinking beers with old classmates like Danielle, whose “poofed-up” bangs won’t let the ’80s die. Chuck, Danielle’s hunky bartender brother, uses Poison lyrics as pickup lines. Quick, who grew up in Collingswood and lives now in North Carolina, manages to poke fun at these characters stuck in the heyday of hair metal while also relishing in the nostalgia.
Quips about the “genius” of Quiet Riot and a bizarre performance by a 5-year-old Bon Jovi impressionist seem lifted from a smarter-than-average rom-com. Similarly, a spirited flashback to Mr. Vernon’s unconventional classroom methods summons memories of “Dead Poets Society.” It’s no surprise that Quick might be writing with an eventual movie in mind: Last year, the Hollywood Reporter ranked him 13th among Tinsel Town’s 25 most powerful authors — one spot below Suzanne “Hunger Games” Collins.
But just when you believe you’ve got “Love May Fail” figured out, the author begins taking risks that could easily spook film producers. First comes the upsetting news that Mr. Vernon has quit teaching after a student attacked him with an aluminum baseball bat.
Quick shifts the narrative voice away from Portia and spends 10 interminable chapters in the perspective of Mr. Vernon.
The near-fatal assault has transformed Portia’s high-school confidant into a geriatric misanthrope. He passes miserable days sequestered in a remote Vermont cabin, contemplating a suicide pact with his one-eyed poodle, Albert Camus.
The retired teacher’s distraught monologues run the gamut from Kafka to PBS painter Bob Ross. There are moments of rich humor and plenty of absurdity in some of these scenes, but the Camus gag gets annoying fast.
When Mr. Vernon’s grim predicament takes a turn toward ghastly, an uncomfortable confusion ensues for readers. The author’s talents for finding humor in complex, emotionally raw situations begin to falter when authentic pathos is concerned. Around this point, the novel that has hitherto functioned as Portia’s singular quest of self-discovery changes into a mismatched buddy comedy and an oddly paced road-trip narrative.
The narrative shifts twice more. Quick brings back Sister Maeve Smith (remember the magical nun from earlier?) via a series of letters to her estranged son — spoiler alert — Mr. Vernon.
The final quarter of the book hands the mic to Chuck, a recovering heroin addict and potential love interest for Portia. There’s at least a dash of method to this apparent madness: Chuck’s motivation to land a teaching job serves as a neat counterpoint to Mr. Vernon’s existential abyss.
Sadly, the last several chapters can feel as unpleasantly overstuffed as Mrs. Kane’s house. The author seems to be aware of the discombobulated narrative. His solution is to launch a sort of pre-emptive strike, a meta-fictional fable about the iniquities of the publishing industry and pointlessness of book reviews. When a character bemoans that critics didn’t like their work, the response is stone cold: “I don’t read critics. I read novelists.”
Quick has definitely made good on his long-ago dream to become a novelist. While “Love May Fail” probably won’t be hailed as his most cohesive book, or even most engrossing, it doesn’t hurt for memorable, unconventional characters and witty one-liners. Quick follows through on Mr. Vernon’s advice “to make daring choices” — sometimes to the chagrin of readers who’d rather just enjoy the ride.
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