What do You think about There's A (Slight) Chance I Might Be Going To Hell: A Novel Of Sewer Pipes, Pageant Queens, And Big Trouble (2007)?
First off, let me just say that I love Laurie Notaro. I've read and loved four of her previous books, and find just about every short story she writes completely hilarious. With this in mind, I was really excited to read this book, her first experiment with fiction - I figured if the nonfiction stories Notaro wrote nearly made me pee myself laughing, just imagine what she could write if she were allowed to make everything up!And that's the problem: Laurie Notaro's first novel is about a woman named Maye, who works as a freelance writer and used to be a reporter, adjusting to life in small-town Washington after moving there from Phoenix with her English-professor husband and their dog. For anyone who has read even one other Laurie Notaro book, this is starting to sound very familiar. Also, in the about-the-author section of There's a Slight Chance I Might Be Going to Hell it says that Notaro "recently moved Eugene, Oregon, a town that bears no resemblance whatsoever to the fictional town of Spaulding, Washington." Uh huh. Amusing as that is, Laurie, that doesn't excuse the fact that very little of your novel appears to be genuinely fictitious. As I read through the book, it was so easy to see which parts of the story were real, which parts were exaggerated, and what was made up. From my point of view, there was very little in that last category. In fact, it made me wonder if the stories in Notaro's nonfiction books are really all true, because they were so blatantly similar to everything that happens in her "fictional" story.One more thing bugged me, and it may have been in Notaro's other books too, but this was the first time I noticed it: she has a habit of going out of her way to create awkwardly long, nonsensical similes that seem really out of place and forced. For example: "Crawford Lake Road was not paved, and not only was it a bumpy dirt road, it was full of potholes that looked more like spots where meteors had bounced off the face of the earth the way a basketball inevitably rebounds off the head of the fat girl in freshman gym class." And: "her eyes got wider and her expression took on the proportions of a teenager in a Wes Craven film who had just had dirty sex with her horn-dog boyfriend and was about to get her head ripped off her body like a grapefruit plucked from a tree by a psychopath." There you have it: not one, but two examples of similes-within-similes. And you thought it couldn't be done. (and yes, they're similes, not metaphors. I looked it up.) Those aren't the only examples I could find, but I'll spare you the rest.In conclusion: there is nothing wrong with writing what you know, but Laurie Notaro, gifted as she is with funny prose, seems incapable of doing anything else.
—Madeline
This book gets two stars (instead of one) because I actually managed to read the whole thing. I've never read anything by Laurie Notaro before but picked this up because I was in the mood for something fun and light. Well, fun and light is what this book is supposed to be and it probably is for most readers. However, this book gets two starts (instead of three) because several scenes were a little too slapsticky for my tastes. I started to get bored reading about Maye's ridiculous and desperate attempts to make friends. Maybe I'm just too unsociable to empathize. Instead of laughing at her efforts (which were supposed to be funny), I rolled my eyes. A lot of Notaro's depictions of the wacky townspeople are stereotypical and almost cliche in their attempted zaniness. The story picked up about a hundred pages (!) in when Maye finally decided to enter the pageant and began hunting down the vanished former pageant queen she wanted as a sponsor. The mystery aspect of the story spurred me forward although I was by no means biting my fingernails and sitting at the edge of my seat. Disappointingly, the entire last chapter is one giant plot dump It's a complete summary, most of it given in dialogue. That, among many other aspects of the story, just didn't work for me.Notaro's writing style uses lots of unusual and long-winded comparisons and similes. Again, it's supposed to be humorous. I can think of a few friends who would probably appreciate it more than I do.
—Lindz-o
Absurd . . . But Pure Laurie Notaro Change the names, create an absurd little scenario, and call it fiction. As a fan of Notaro's essay collections, this story, There's a (Slight) Change I Might Be Going to Hell, didn't surprise or disappoint. It doesn't stretch too far from her roots in writing first person vignettes about a funny, irreverent woman, however, the woman in this story happens to be named "Maye." Maye is clearly a Laurie alter ego, and it helped to have read her earlier collections to get a full picture of this likeable, humble creature.Maye and her husband, Charlie, move from Phoenix, Arizona to Spaulding, Washington, because of her husband's new job. The plot centers on Maye's insatiable quest to make new friends. She is very unsuccessful--mistaking a coven of witches for a book group, infiltrating a meeting of vegetarians only to be busted eating meat later that night, and making a fool of herself at her first faculty gathering by getting stuck in her sweater and doing a striptease of sorts. She makes an enemy of the town matriarch, Rowena Spaulding, and her postman, who makes it necessary for her to take her dog, Mickey, to obedience training. Ultimately, Maye decides to win friends by attempting to win the annual "Miss Sewer Pipe" crown. She obtains a sponsor, the mysterious former Queen, Ruby Spicer, and as their friendship develops, the story grows more interesting. In spite of all the characters bantering back and forth in overly clever repartee and an annoying abundance of similes, I couldn't help but turn the pages just to see how the town pageant would unfold.No great piece of literature, but fans of Laurie Notaro will love this book, and I applaud the author for giving "fiction" a crack, even though according to her acknowledgements, she seemed forced into it. Just keep writing Laurie. You make us laugh.
—Michele
