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Hmph. This was a disappointment. The opening line �� “I was a child murderer�� �� effectively hooks the reader and the first few chapters are well written, but the story quickly spirals out of control. This is a “memoir��, as told by a mentally ill eighteen-year-old, which is a concept I love . . . unfortunately, said character makes Holden Caulfield look sympathetic.

Expensive People is a cutting satire of ��60s suburban life, and it is a meta look at the writing process. Some passages herein are successful, while whole chapters ramble and meander. It would help if these characters were likable, but they’re not. At all. There is nothing to latch on to: everyone, and everything, in this novel is plain wretched.

Still, this is Joyce Carol Oates �� and she has a certain writing prowess that cannot be denied. The opening and closing chapters of this slog are as good as anything she has ever written, and for that I did not give this one star.