The Portable Veblen: Shortlisted for the Baileys Women's Prize for Fiction 2016

Unexpectedly charming. A fun read that also skirts around deeper musings about life and love.

The Portable Veblen
Reviewed on behalf of @HaggerstonReads book group by Annie Blackmore

The heroine of this novel by Elizabeth McKenzie certainly has a name to conjure with: Veblen Amundsen-Hovda – a big name for a young woman in “the slim green spring of her life.” Of course the eponymous Veblen, economist and philosopher, is the key cultural reference but her other names are also significant; Roald Amundsen was the great Norwegian polar,explorer , the first to reach the South Pole and the first to have reached both poles so a heroic name and surely no accident that Veblen’s final destination is the snowy landscapes of Norway. Hovda is perhaps a reference to the American composer and dancer Eleanor Hovda, which relates to our heroine’s creative and artistic side. So what’s in a name ? Quite a lot it would seem and her name reflects this complex, engaging character at the heart of the novel .
The title The Portable Veblen is reminiscent of a guide book or manual – something which you carry with you to help you make sense of the world. Veblen is the template and model who his namesake cleaves to as her spiritual guide. And then there are the squirrels, one in particular, whether real or imagined, who also offer Veblen succour and guidance and who provide a sceptical commentary on the progress of her relationship with her boyfriend and soon-to –be husband Paul. Indeed the first chapter is called “End the Attachment” – perhaps advice which some of us may feel Veblen should have taken.
Paul feels quite differently about squirrels and the novel begins with differing views about how to deal with the squirrel in the attic. The debate which ensues wittily sums up the pivotal Veblen dialectic . “Thorstein Veblen would say people hate squirrels ......because it’s the only way to justify .......buying traps or guns” Our Veblen then links her analysis to the defence industry, which Paul is about to become entangled in “It’s the same with patriotic emotionalism, because it justifies expenditures for defense”.
The Big Pharma defence industry sub-plot, while sharply observed and funny, is less engaging and more broad brush; the character of Cloris Hutmacher, fabulously wealthy scion of the powerful medical and biotech company, is comparatively crudely drawn in a novel which has so many fantastic characters, in particular Veblen’s mother, the stand-out Melanie C. Duffy, who could have stepped out of the pages of Dickens. A monstrous but at the same time oddly engaging character whose encyclopaedic hypochondria-driven medical knowledge comes to the fore in one particularly witty scene; close behind Melanie in the character stakes is Paul’s younger brother Justin whose arrested development renders him unappealing and annoying – until in a poignant moment Paul’s parents finally reveal the truth which led to Justin’s impairment.
Tolstoy’s famous opening line of Anna Karenina could serve as the epigraph to this novel : “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”. Both sets of families are well drawn and are at the heart of the novel. There are echoes of Jonathan Franzen, both The Corrections and Purity, which are testimony to the talent of Elizabeth McKenzie who with this engaging novel , like the small grey squirrel has released “ a mighty roar”.

A deeply moralistic, anthropological tale of the collision of family histories, written with a nut-crackingly good sense of humour.

On receipt of this book, I was intrigued by the name Veblen. A distant memory and faint recognition of the word wafted through my brain. Unfortunately, memories of my Social Sciences degree remained unobtainable so I was forced to google it. Now this piqued my interest – Thorstein Veblen (1857 – 1929) coined the term ‘conspicuous consumption’. I keenly began to read and discovered some very interesting, familiar and, in fact, loveable characters. We are quickly introduced to the main protagonist, Veblen Amundsen-Hovda, her fiancé, Paul Vreeland, oh and the squirrel. Later, we find out more about their families Veblen’s Mother Melanie, Stepfather Linus and institutionalised father, Rudgear. We are introduced to Paul’s Hippy parents, Marion and Bill, as well as his disabled brother, Justin.
Veblen’s journey of self-discovery began when Paul proposed marriage. The story follows them with very interesting outcomes about which I’d rather not go into in much detail – read the book! I am keen to explore the themes within the novel, however, they are so vast that it would be impossible for me to summarise them adequately. The theme in the book that I am most interested in is that of the family and the way that every union/marriage brings together the upbringing and experiences of each person. Looking down the family tree through the ages, we are all, to some degree, a product of these experiences and genetics over time. One of my favourite quotes came from Veblen, as she sat on the beach pondering whether her mother had ‘made of her, a ragged-edged shard without a fit?'
Veblen and Paul have reacted differently to similarly damaging childhoods. The clashing of these formative life experiences in relationships are critical and in this novel, their confluence causes Veblen and Paul to re-evaluate their own lives and the lives of each other. On completion, I was left wondering whether the main characters would be able to break their dysfunctional cycles together. The very interesting and enlightening appendices to the book confirmed some of my suspicions and provided an excellent epilogue. Reading the story prompted me to think of the following questions. Can two very different ideas of normality combine to make a new, shared one? To what degree is our future pre-determined by our upbringing and genetics? How much are we the masters of our own destiny?

Veblen’s childhood home was full of criticism, a place in which one could easily offend;
'Nothing offended her more than her own faults'...'there was no perfect being out there...or was there?'

I summise that Veblen tries to eliminate any of her own perceived flaws and faults and pre-empt any possible upset to her highly sensitive mother. This allows Veblen to survive and reduces the complicated wrath of her mother, but doesn’t allow her to develop her own unique identity, or learn to please herself as she constantly meets the needs of another ahead of her own, ‘one could see she was bruised by all the dodging that comes of the furtive meeting of one’s needs.’

Elizabeth McKenzie skilfully drew the varied storylines together to provide a satisfying conclusion. She deftly drew parallels between different characters and situations using humour to such great effect, that I may have guffawed loudly at the moment when the squirrel decided that enough was enough and punished Melanie in the only way possible. I enjoyed the descriptive, yet succinct writing style which painted some very clear images in my mind. Overall, I really enjoyed this book and would recommend it to others. I might even be tempted to read it again! The vast array of themes it explored and the huge number of questions it prompted, are enough to make it one of the most thought-provoking books I have read in a long while.

Our book group was lucky enough to be chosen to shadow judge the Baileys Women's Prize for Fiction and this is the book we were assigned. Initially, I have to confess I was a little disappointed as I had my heart set on another of the shortlisted books, but any trace of disappointment was wiped away as soon as I started to read it.

I loved McKenzie's use of language straight away - her way with words is beautiful, which lead to some very quirky and interesting descriptions. Veblen is a unique and amazing character - she seems to multi-dimensional and real, as in fact do all of the characters in this book. Each one seems to have their own problem or dysfunction to deal with, and each has a well-conceived personality and story.

Veblen's mum Melanie is brilliantly bonkers, seemingly unaware of how her snobbery, self-centredness and hypochondria have had such a huge impact on those around her, particularly Veblen. Veblen's seemingly ideal relationship with her fiance Paul made me suspicious to begin with. Despite everything, he was the character that I warmed to the least, and I couldn't help but feel that he was completely wrong for Veblen, perhaps just as manipulative and controlling as her mother, if in a different way. However, as the book goes on you begin to understand Paul a lot more - the unorthodox childhood, the difficult family dynamic, the need to prove himself. I really respected the difficult decision he makes about his career, but it was his attempt to save Veblen's squirrel and landing himself under his boss' car in the process that finally convinced me that he was right for Veblen. Essentially they were both the same; two people trying to establish a sense of self and an identity within the bounds of very difficult family situations - a theme that I think is a main driving theme in this book.

And the squirrel! The squirrel that you hear so much about! I loved the fact that Veblen talked to the squirrel. I didn't find it absurd or fantastical at all, and in fact it reminded me of someone talking to a pet; she clearly felt a connection to him, and took comfort from him when she was lacking any support from elsewhere in her life.

This book is beautiful, funny, witty, and touching all at once, and it is masterfully written. I was genuinely sad when I finished it, and it is already a strong contender for my book of the year. I hope it does well in the prize, as I loved reading every word of it.

Our book club was recently lucky enough to be chosen as one of the shadow judging panels for the Baileys Prize for Women's Fiction, and was presented with Elizabeth McKenzie's "The Portable Veblen" to read. Well, where does one start with this quirky little offering?! McKenzie's tale follows our protagonist - the said Veblen Amundsen-Hovda - as she becomes engaged to her fairly recent and besotted beau Paul, an ambitious Neurologist who has just had his new device picked up by the unscrupulous pharmaceutical giant Hutmacher. Veblen agrees to marry Paul, but has doubts...as does the squirrel whom she regularly communes with: 'End the attachment!'

On the face of it, Paul and Veblen don't seem an obvious coupling. Paul is ambitious, driven and materialistic - conforming with the societal norms and trappings that come with success - the luxury flat and swanky car, and presents Veblen with the standard ostentatious diamond engagement ring (which is completely at odds with her simplistic tastes). Squirrel obsessed Veblen, on the other hand, is a part time translator of Norwegian, office temp, and an ardent follower of her namesake the economist Thorstein Veblen's staunch views on the pitfalls of conscious consumerism. Her painstakingly repaired home that she is so proud of - including the squirrel infestation in the attic - are not part of Paul's plans for the future. How well do these two actually know each other? Will they actually make it up the aisle? That's where the story begins, but McKenzie's story is far from as straight forward as that.

McKenzie's tale is a little oddball, but it is frequently very funny. She writes with huge wit and perception, and her descriptions and turns of phrase are glorious in places. By far, my favourite of McKenzie's creations is Veblen's hyperchondriac, self-obsessed and critical mother, Melanie. She is both appalling and a joy to behold. Her first meeting with her future son-in-law is hilarious and cringeworthy, but gives us great insight into how Veblen's character has been shaped by growing up with such a fragile yet overbearing character.

Paul's family are equally as eccentric - it is quite an eye opener when we discover that straight laced, stuck up Paul was raised by ex-nudist, living-off-the-grid hippies, who always put his disabled brother's needs before his. We warm to his laid back loving family immediately, and I must say I didn't feel much sympathy with Paul at first - he comes over as self centred and child like in his interactions with them - but this changes when we come to visit his story as a teenager living with them later on in the book.

There were stretches of this book that I was a little disinterested in i.e. those sections that focused on Paul's medical research. I really would have preferred more time looking at either of the two families - these by far were, for me, where the real enjoyment of this book was.

I would definitely recommend 'The Portable Veblen' if you enjoy stories that focus on family drama with a slightly nutty edge. A thoroughly squirrelicious read!

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book - it was so much fun and just nuts on so many levels.

The characters were all entertaining and had their own foibles, but with a sense of humour - which we all need to get on in life. Veblen the squirrel whisperer and heart of the book soothed and cajoled the loved ones around her, a determined young women with an abundance of optimism. The love story between her and Paul the neurotic neurologist who sees squirrels as vermin stumbled and trickeled to the right conclusion with some very tender moments and yet some laugh out loud episodes along the way.

I can't think of another book I have read which was like this, it truly was unique.

This book had me laughing, heart-warmed and in love with language.

The novel opens with our protagonist, Veblen Amundsen-Hovda, becoming engaged to her boyfriend, Paul. Veblen, named after an economist who coined the phrase “conspicuous consumption”, and Paul, a doctor who runs clinical trials on veterans while being courted by a pharmaceutical heiress for his research, each have complicated and complex family structures that define and challenge them in equal measure. The novel follows their integration into each other’s families, and Veblen’s struggle to come to terms with growing up, settling down and her internal doubts on all of the above.
I was immediately struck by McKenzie’s command of language, and her ability to make the quotidian poetic. McKenzie’s often lyrical prose conjures up vivid imagery, with particular skill in recreating textured depictions of the seasons.

"The skin of the older year was crackling, coming apart, the sewers sweeping it away beneath the roads."

She balances this with quick-witted, sharp observations on modern life that immediately snap you out of the lyrical haze into hysterics. My favourites included “the very word “weekend” was a monstrous little propaganda of modernity”, “…an expression not of an embryo but something quite fresh” and “a cool slap on the buttock of assumption”. The latter is likely to become an instant fixture of my vocabulary.

McKenzie’s novel is packed with exquisitely dysfunctional characters. Both Veblen and Paul’s families have their own brand of crazy that drives their offspring to distraction. The best by far is Melanie, Veblen’s hypochondriac, self-absorbed mother. With her CV of ailments and narcissistic view of the world, she is the ultimate overbearing matriarch who is impossible to please. From Melanie’s reaction to Veblen’s engagement (“Why did you tell me about the squirrel first?” – more on him later) to the utterly brilliant first meeting with Paul, which perfectly displays the extent of her self-absorption and complete lack of self-awareness, she is a fantastic character.

Familial responsibility is a huge theme in this novel. Veblen is weighed down by the expectations of her parents – from her mother naming her after the original Veblen whom she holds in such high esteem to the pressures of living up to the life Melanie has laid out for her – and her anxiety about fulfilling them is tangible.

She had once concluded everyone on earth was a servant to the previous generation – born from the body’s factory for entertainment and use. A life could be spent like an apology – to prove you had been worth it.

Paul is equally constrained by his own kin, and specifically by the demands of his disabled brother Justin and his parents’ prioritisation of his sibling’s wellbeing over his. The narrative offers a compelling exploration of the balance between familial duty and personal satisfaction, perfectly capturing the struggle to find your own happiness while living up to the dreams of your parents.

And then there’s the squirrel. This book has been heavily marketed on back of this squirrel (he adorns the cover in a choice of beautiful illustrations), alongside adjectives like “weird”, “bonkers” and “quirky” to describe his participation. I haven’t found the narrative around the squirrel that off-the-wall, to be honest. The first chapter introduces us to an attic-dwelling squirrel who keeps Veblen and Paul awake at night, and who Paul wants to exterminate (albeit humanely).

I think it’s very telling that the squirrel is introduced just after McKenzie explains that “at thirty [Veblen] still favoured baggy oversized boy’s clothes, a habit as hard to grow out of as imaginary friends”. The squirrel appears at times of intense stress or anxiety for Veblen and I can’t help but feel he could be symbolic of those emotions – a manifestation of her psyche that channels the doubts and insecurities she wrestles with internally.

Part two of this book follows a fairly classic narrative arch of testing the main characters to their limits before bringing them back to close on something like the status quo. However, McKenzie’s sharp humour and poignant penmanship means this journey is far from ordinary.

The plot of the second half of the novel spans farce to emotional drama, with everything else in between. The scene in which Paul calls Veblen and thinks she’s talking to a lover (it’s not; it’s the squirrel she’s caged with the intention of setting free in a forest near to her dad’s home) is a sitcom-standard misunderstanding but McKenzie manages to avoid the canned laughter to really get under the skin of her characters and their insecurities in the scene.

Paul’s moral crusade to rescue his newly invented (not yet approved) surgical tool from the claws of the ruthless pharmaceutical company adds some real drama to the piece. The role that tool plays in the demise of Cloris, the owner of said pharmaceutical company, was a surprisingly grisly but perfectly fitting end to this plot thread.

And, Melanie. What a woman. Her hypochondria proved invaluable during Paul’s hospitalisation (who knew she had it in her?), and the squirrel bite she receives in the final pages further suggests the link between the squirrel and Veblen (albeit allegorically) – you’d bite her if she was your mother, wouldn’t you?

The overwhelming feeling I got from the second part of the novel was about each character’s struggle for recognition. They each want their family members to understand their predicament and why they behave the way they do. We learn that Melanie’s relationship with her own mother was fraught, often resulting in physical and emotional abuse, and that she is so tough on Veblen to protect her from undergoing similar trauma. The references in the first part of the novel to carrying the burdens of previous generations, and the fear of not living up to their expectations, resonated here and offered further insight into Melanie’s motivations.

After Paul is strangled by a veteran undergoing treatment in his hospital, we learn that his brother Justin’s learning difficulties are the result of being starved of oxygen during birth. Justin’s heart-wrenching cries at Paul’s wedding – “Paul understands me! Because I was strangled when I was a baby…Do you understand me now?” – are a poignant climax that explores the impact of all that is unspoken between families.

“She was emerging from a lifelong delusion about her identity and priorities.”

I mentioned earlier that I took issue with the book being marketed as “quirky” and “bonkers”. Yes, there’s a squirrel. Yes, a woman talks to it. Yes, there’s a tribe of interesting and challenging characters. But I wouldn’t call that bonkers. I think those labels really detract from the expertise of McKenzie’s writing. To combine humour, pathos, wit and drama so subtly is the work of an accomplished writer and one with the ability to take you on a journey you won’t forget.

I thoroughly enjoyed this unique and intriguing tale about finding yourself and your place in your family and the world.

I loved this quirky, squirrelsome novel. I read it as it is on the Baileys Women's Prize for Fiction 2016 shortlist. It mixes humour with deep, philosophical insight about human relationships. I was especially intrigued about the two main characters, Veblen, a woman who is so eager to please and iron out any lumps in anyone's life (except her own) that you almost despair. She loves squirrels. She can talk to squirrels. Her fiancé, Paul, is a desperately ambitious neurologist who hates squirrels and isn't too keen on hippies. Then there are their fairly dysfunctional families. This is a story of love and redemption, consumerism and very black humour. It's light and funny and then suddenly profound. You will look at squirrels in a different light. And it will make you question your way of life, too.