a book (ry)view: The Birthing House by Christopher Ransom

I am not normally one to complain about books. Hell, I'm not normally one to even review books - it's so rare that it's quite possible this will be the one and only (ry)view I ever post. It's all subjective, right? There is usually something positive to find in any piece of literature. There is normally something to appreciate about the author's vision and words. 

Having said that, I am just going to get it out of the way: as far as I am concerned, The Birthing House by Christopher Ransom is one of the most disappointing novels I have ever read. It also happens to be the first book I read in 2016 (49 more to go to meet my macguffolution). Good start, Ry.

Why was it disappointing? Because its premise was so classically creepy. A man attempts to save his marriage by buying an old Victorian mansion with an interesting history in the middle of Creepy Town, Wisconsin. The history? The house was once a "birthing house" - where wayward young expecting women would go when they had nowhere else to go in a time when it was truly taboo to be unmarried and pregnant. The house was pregnant (pun intended) with possibilities and I assumed the house would be a character in and of itself. The prospect of having such a creepy setting as the centerpiece of what seemed to be a classic ghost story was enticing. Imagine the stories that could be told! The author's biography even said he lived in an old birthing house. How could this possibly go wrong?

Turns out I should have left the book on the clearance shelf where I found it. Thanks for nothing, Barnes & Noble.

First, the main character was the most unapologetically and absurdly accidental misognyistic protagonist I have ever had the displeasure of following for ~300 pages (and I followed Edward Cullen for all four piles of garbage that was the Twilight "saga"). I was hoping for the worst to happen to him so much so that fifty pages into the story, I was disappointed that Mr. Ransom had not killed him off yet so that readers could spend more time with the interesting supporting characters. The amount of effort I had to put into engaging with a story lead by a character who is so terribly constructed and portrayed took away any attention I could have spent on the story (what little there was of it). In the end, you couldn't trust him. When you can't trust the protagonist, you can't trust the story and the narrative collapses.

Second, the writing was disjointed and insincere. This is less an issue with the story itself and more an issue with the storyteller. I'm not going to say any more on this because somebody thought he was publishable and I'm still sitting over here like a peasant, so he must be doing something right.

Third, the story didn't make any sense. Let's move an unhappy couple comprised of a lousy, straight up prick of a male and an git 'r done absentee female household provider into a creepy house and have the straight up prick of a male whine about how his wife is earning a living (Mr. Ransom appears to have an issue with empowered female characters) and "clearly" cheating on him (which, by the way, is an unsubstantiated claim on his part) while he raises snakes in a garage (in secret) and hypocritically and creepily shacks up with the pregnant next door teenage girl. Sprinkle in a little awkwardly placed erotica involving ghosts and pregnant sex and a couple of country bumpkin neighbors, and that's the synopsis of this book. 

I'm not even really sure how it really ends, because I didn't bother reading the last 15 pages. When the ending I was satisfied with came along about 290 pages in, I called it quits (I learned my lesson from reading the epilogue of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: quit while the story is ahead - still love you, Jo Row, still love you).

Chances are, I won't be reading much more of Mr. Ransom's other work, given that most of the reviews of his other endeavors do not rise much higher than those of The Birthing House. The Birthing House only demonstrates the way a seemingly perfect setting can be cast aside with the wrong story supporting its foundation. It also managed to make me respect Eddie Cully as a character and made me appreciate Stephanie Meyer's writing a little bit: for that, I can never forgive this book.

macguffolution updates

1. I have managed to send out  six birthday cards and one thank you card thus far, and it's only January 7th! I also spent over $50 at Papyrus, so #MoneyWellSpent.
2. I am 1.5 books into my 50 book goal for the year! Yaaaaas, kween!
3. The whole being more positive thing comes and goes. This review is clearly a time when it went.
4. For an update on my budgeting skills, please refer to my Papyrus purchase.
5. Nope. Nothing has been sent off for publication yet. I've got until December 31st, people!

Stay tuned.