Chuck D'Antonio &
The imperfectionists by Tom Rachman

DNF after 74 pages

How the hell is this book a new york times bestseller

Rachman isn't a terrible writer. But he's far from a great one. And in this book he is guilty of overreaching massively. It's a great premise and his knowledge of press journalism's idiosyncrasies should've created a great book. Instead he tried to create far too many characters. The result is some great vignettes with potential for so much more and some unreadably cliched ones. The Egypt chapter was particularly moronic, for example, while Hardy's was painfully half-baked. Rachman should've spent more time developing the truly intriguing storylines like that of the decrepit Paris correspondent & the tragicomic cuckold, Menzies. The dialogue on the plane involving the CFO was another high point. It sparkled. But much of the rest was insufferable. I wish Rachman luck with his sophomore effort, if he does go down that path.

I loved this book! I personally have an inclination for vignettes and character profiles as-is, but I think that no matter what one's favorite story type or genre is that they would love The Imperfectionists. I have not in a very long time read something that so deeply revolved around what being a human really means. Each chapter in this novel focuses on a different American-born employee working at an International newspaper base out of Rome, and follows a brief snippet of their personal life that relates back, in one way or another, to their connection with the paper. Although the story does not wrap neatly into one perfectly intertwined story showing that each character has directly affected all of the others' lives, it does not need that. The connection between all of the characters, though tangential in most cases, feels so real and so important that I was never left wishing that they all had been brought together in some more "meaningful" (i.e. contrived) way. This book in fact is the very opposite of contrived. There are no "good and bad" characters- they all have their flaws. Yet it is each characters flaws that made me feel as if they were important to me; as if I wanted to know more about them; as if I wanted to help them and tell them it was ok - that I kind of knew exactly how they were feeling, even though I've never been in any of their situations. Even characters you thought you should hate- the ones you'd probably hate on the street- I was so sad t leave when their chapter ended and so so happy when they would randomly flit into another character's story. My only complaint, and it is minor, was that I felt that there were very small sections in the book where the characterization was abit too heavy-handed, and incidentally, I only felt this heavy-handedness with characters that were being drawn as abrasive- whether because Rachman wanted to to the character for his flaws despite his glossy image or because Rachman wanted to first paint a picture of a shitty person you'd typically hate before he took you behind the curtains of her life. Overall, i absolutely loved it, and loved just sitting with the book, re-reading the passages, and truly just thinking about the characters and trying see the world through their eyes. I can think of no better book to remind the reader about the importance of compassion, empathy, and sharing the burden of humanity. Sounds lame, but it's pretty true.

Written as separate short stories this is actually a cohesive story centering on a failing English language newspaper based in Italy. Each story is separate yet a brick in the whole; a personal glimpse at someone whose life is entwined with the Herald Tribune.

Loved the characters and how each chapter revealed how one person in the newsroom was related to the next.

Tom Rachman's The Imperfectionists is probably not the worst book I've read this year, but it is the most disproportionately undeserving of the praise that has been heaped upon it. I certainly saw no evidence of the “precocious grasp of human foibles” that Christopher Buckley raved about in the New York Times review that made me check this book out from the library. It is, however, notable for being the only book in recent memory that doesn't even pass the Bechdel test -- which, considering the test is normally applied to two-hour movies and not 300-page novels with casts containing eleven protagonists, is an impressive feat of literary misogyny. The premise of a series of interconnected stories about the staff of a English language newspaper based in Rome was intriguing, and I enjoyed the first two stories in the book which feature Lloyd Burko, an aging correspondent living in Paris, and Arthur Gopal, a quietly suffering obit writer. It was with the third story about business reporter Hardy Benjamin, the first centering on a female character, that the book began to fall apart for me. While the two previous stories painted multi-dimensional and nuanced portraits of flawed but layered individuals (with minor exceptions in the case of supporting characters), I rolled my eyes through the story of Hardy pathetically clinging to an overgrown-toddler loser boyfriend whom she discovers has been stealing from her but instead of doing anything about it, decides the best course of action is to pretend it never happened because he is probably the best thing an ordinary-looking girl like her can hope for. Hardy’s story set the benchmark, and I made my way through the remaining stories hoping against hope every time a female character appeared on the page that Rachman would prove me wrong and redeem himself. Sadly, by the time I finished, I felt only bored and disappointed. Kathleen Solson, who I guess is supposed to be the token strong executive woman character of the book, is weirdly described as taking "unearned pride in her looks" and masochistically wheedles a former lover for validation after her husband has an affair. None of the later stories are as interesting or well-written as the first two, but we at least get deeper glimpses into the male characters’ minds when they engage in philosophical inner dialogue that makes them somewhat redeeming despite other minor shortcomings, while the female characters we’re treated to are just sad, petty, and flat. There’s copy editor Ruby Zaga who “strips, disheartened at the sight of her naked body", and fantasizes about quitting her miserable job where she’s surrounded by terrible, rude men -- but only because she wishes they would include her when they make crude jokes and watch porn on company time. CFO Abbey Pinola laments that she “looks fucking terrible” and spends an eon grooming herself inside an airplane bathroom so she can be complimented by the man seated next to her -- a former newspaper staffer whom she incidentally just fired. Like Kathleen, she’s a driven and successful woman but is quick to discount herself to men who (god forbid) might find her too intimidating or aggressive, saying, “That’s completely not who I am.” Reader Ornella de Monterecchi mental appraisal of her housekeeper is that, “Marta has an inappropriately good figure for a cleaner, though her face is a battlefield of acne, which makes up for it.” The only thing meant to resemble a positive female relationship falls apart because, and I'm lifting this straight from the narrative itself, because "Hardy got a boyfriend, and her friendship with Annika faded." This is the same infantile boyfriend, by the way, that hardy discovered stealing from her in the earlier story. Christopher Buckley “almost feels sorry for Rachman, because a debut of this order sets the bar so high.” I feel sorry for Rachman too, but it’s because in his world, women accept the futility of their empty, unfulfilled lives with resigned desperation. They are self-loathing caricatures who define themselves in relation to the men in their lives and are all apparently starving for male attention.

What a depressing little book. All characters are very unlikeable and things usually (view spoiler)[do not end well for them. (hide spoiler)] And yet, I strangely enjoyed it.

Interesting and pleasant.