Review of "False Neutral" by Joshua S. Narins

Score: 90+/100 (9.0+ out of 10)

Could you imagine running into your ex after two decades apart?
How might your lives, you views, and your feelings have changed?

The fact of the matter is that time and experiences change people; and what happens when two people come back together armed with these new experiences?

Those questions are explored in False Neutral by Joshua S. Narins.

Now, we're going to preface this review by saying that:

1. It's a pretty good book that you should read if you're into romance, purple prose, and deep introspective writing

2. We're going to vent a lot of frustration at the beginning of this review, but don't let that have you think that everything is negative. It's not.

False Neutral is primarily a romance, but it is also a bit of an experimental novel. The two main characters may have been named at some point, but we don't recall their names, and no one else on the internet seems to know or remember them either. You can look. Essentially, the two partners in this turbulent romantic tango aren't named in the book. No, the guy's name isn't Smirnoff, that's just the Russian naval/diver guy she flirted with and who got her to think about the "lobster claws .vs. lobster tail" motif. And then there's her evil/jerk husband, whom we'll get to later. His name is Frank, right? Presumably the same Frank that Smirnoff saved. Neither of them are the "He"/"Him" mention throughout the book? Please tell us the jerk husband's name is Frank. We read this like 2-3 times each.

Ah, hell, we're gonna chalk this up to being thrown off by the fractured, experimental narrative, the vagueness, the absence of main character names, and the lauded "trademark time signature."

Anyway... the main characters are simply referred to as "She" and "He" the grand majority of the time like they're some enigmatic, abstract entities intended to stand in for all She's and He's (or something). And the book's description on Amazon and Goodreads isn't helpful at all because it's the most vague, bare-bones--"what does this even tell us?"--description ever. It's honestly a bit frustrating how evasive and tedious this is... the shear experience of trying to consume this book before we've even gotten our teeth into it. This is also one of those cases in which we were sending physical copies of the book back and forth because a digital copy couldn't be provided. It really seems like one of those cases in which the author was playing hide-and-seek, peekaboo, or Wac-A-Mole with the reader. We're not saying that's necessarily the case, but that's how it feels. And, again, it's irksome and frustrating. Needlessly so.

Like, look at this description:

"One chose to live a lie. . .

One chose to live alone. . .

One chance to finally make sense of it all.

False Neutral transports readers directly to the intersection of the current path traveled and the road not taken.

Set primarily in Boston’s Back Bay and the North End, False Neutral is a taut focused New England narrative told in Mr. Narins’ trademark compact time signature.

Conveyed in a simple elegant voice, False Neutral is a unique story with inimitable characters, perfect for fiction fans seeking a story that will not only speak but resonate."

Keep in mind, this was Narins' first novel, so how was anyone supposed to know what "Mr. Narins' trademark compact time signature" was supposed to be? Like, if something is "trademark" or a signature, it implies it's well known and familiar to people. How can something be well known and familiar to people if no one had ever seen a book by this person before?

And what is a "taut focused New England narrative" supposed to even mean?

We know what "inimitable" means, but we don't think it applies to these two main characters. Like, if it did, then why would you want to read about them? Why would you want to read about people you can't empathize, relate with, or imitate? It's like a nothing-burger of a flowery word that got thrown in the description for no reason--just like the other tedious things surrounding the reading of this book. Argh... so unnecessary.

Like, we've barely talked about the content inside of the book yet, and we're already angry. It shouldn't be this agitating or hard to read a book. It just shouldn't.

"...a story that will not only speak but resonate."

Is that even a complete thought? Shouldn't it be "speak to their heart"/"speak to their soul" or "resonate with them"?

Someone please rewrite this book description to help potential readers to actually know what the book is about. Like, hire Bryan Cohen to overhaul this or something.

There's no need for this tedious vagueness.

Even rewriting the description is challenging because of the lack of names. It's got to be something like:

"She chose to live a lie.
He chose to live alone.
What will happen when their paths cross again?"

Hey, that's actually not... that bad.

So, like... do you want people to actually find, read, and understand your book or not? Cause, again, it seems like a tedious game of hide-and-seek.

Ironically, having read the book multiple times, we actually know what most of the description is talking about. But what about new readers or prospective readers? They're going to be like: ...HUH?! The New England Patriots did what in Muttontown and it resonated with what?

Thankfully, the book itself is not as bad as its description. In fact, we'd say it's a pretty good book—in some areas more than others. First of all, ironically, it's well-written. In fact, the writing is impressive at times, albeit a bit purple and flowery.

Again, the description calls this a "simple elegant voice." We're not sure about "simple" but it is "elegant" and eloquent at times.

For example:

"...that light, that mesmerizing energetic radiance that you focused and shone so brightly for me and upon me, that lucent had left your eyes. Faded and dimmed, I had no idea how to attempt or manage a reignition."

"It's that stomachache, those muscle cramps, those involuntary contractions, the emptiness I feel every day in that enormous, crowded mausoleum. I just never understood what it was telling me."

We love the use of analogies and metaphors throughout this book.

"...enormous, crowded mausoleum" is one of our favorites. That, along with the visceral descriptions of illness and pain that accompany it, exude a feeling of emptiness and longing. Something with a beautiful exterior and that everyone sees (like a mausoleum) is metaphorically filled with an, ironically, near-empty sarcophagus of a decayed corpse. It exudes a feeling of profound loss and regret that things could've worked out better and life would've worked out differently if certain choices were made in the past. But that's dead and gone now. All that remains are memories, what if's, and a figurative blackened skeleton or ashes.

And how about the use of the figurative use of the words "irrigated" and "fertilized" in:

"The electronic landscape pruned daily by local and national news outlets, cultivated hourly with the day's political misdeeded, irrigated nightly with the public's shattered trust, and continually fertilized with the elected's unconvincing outrage."

There's another beautiful quote—which, again, is hard for us to find because we're working with the physical copy and forgot to note the page number—that says something like:

"It's not the truth that hurts the most,
It's the lies that we can't discern"

Or something like that... you know how much easier this would be if we had a digital copy we could just use CTRL+F with?

But not all of this book is so depressing, bleak, and melancholic. In fact, one of the best things about the writing is the use of sarcasm, humor, and irony. One of our favorite parts of the book is just when the female character (let's just call her "She" and "Her") says that she has no restrictions or preferences regarding what she can eat, but then goes on and on about the many different kinds of foods she can't eat: Indian, Chinese, Japanese etc.

There's another part that made us genuinely chuckle when someone tells Her/She that she must be a "witch" and that she must have taken months of "flying lessons" on her broom.
Ok, now that's funny!

Another thing that's rather impressive about this book and its writing is that the pacing and length are actually good, even with the flowery prose. Like we said, we read this book multiple times. It's only like 4-5 hours of reading. The text is big, bold, and easy on the eyes (which is good). Passages are well-formatted in short blocks, making them stand out and "pop" like bullet points in a PowerPoint or something (sorry, couldn't think of a better analogy).

Remember when we talked about the use of analogies, metaphors, and figurative speech in the book? Well, there are times when it's awesome and it works (as mentioned before), and there are times when it comes across as a bit awkward and contrived.

Perhaps the part of this book that made us feel that way the most was the confrontation scene in which Her/She and Him/He are airing all their dirty laundry, especially Her/She. Him/He starts thinking about this whole conversation like a heavyweight boxing fight in which he needs to be strategic. For example, he starts to think that he is "winning on points" and just needs to avoid punches (being hurt by Her/She's statements and words) and get to the final round.

Her/She also has a metaphorical framework going on in her mind as well. See, her father was apparently an expert Poker player and gambler who was great at reading the room, identifying tells, and hiding his hand. SEE, WE DID READ THE BOOK. We just don't know what the characters' names are.

Unfortunately, he didn't pass on any of those skills to his daughter, so Her/She is open, explicit, and obvious. She can't hide her hand. She needs to always let it all out and let her thoughts and feelings be known and felt.

So, you've got someone who can't hide their hand having an interaction with someone trying to avoid the punches to survive to the later rounds. That's interesting. It's a bit clunky and seems a little contrived, but we get it.

There's a reoccurring motif that somewhat works. It's the lobster tail .vs. lobster claw thing. Her/She long enjoyed the lobster claws more than the tail that everyone else enjoyed. Why? Well... hey that's a good question. Maybe it represents her going against the grain? Maybe it's because the lobster claws have to be cracked open and require more effort to eat from? Yeah, that kind of fits Her/She's character, especially when she was in her 20s.

We're told that when she was in her 20s, she was a social justice warrior/activist who pushed back against just about everything you might call "establishment." SEE, WE DID READ THE BOOK. We just don't know what the characters' names are. We can safely assume she was protesting the patriarchy, the military-industrial-complex, Wall Street, big business, big government, police brutality, climate change, and just about everything you'd expect a social justice warrior to protest.

Well, Him/He wasn't supportive of all that. He seems to have been at least a bit of a conservative, or at least disintereted in being bold and outspoken about such things. That's one of the things that drove a wedge between the two. Well, that and their very-different expectations for where their relationship would go and what their futures would hold.

It's really not anything you've never heard or read before (which makes the "inimitable" statement in the description a bit silly). It's pretty standard. The guy is afraid of commitment and wants to be free to pursue personal and professional opportunities without being weighed down by family. The girl? Well, she's the opposite.

There's a bit more to that, though. See, when Her/She was 24 or 25, back when Her/She was with Him/He, she was a very controlling and domineering person. She wanted everything her way. It was her way or the highway.

Ironically, the jerk husband she ended up marrying is controlling and domineering. She ends up having four children with him. She even says she has "five" if her husband is included, implying that he's a needy man-baby.

We also get a strong sense that her world views have changed or evolved since then. That tends to happen.

Now, this somewhat bothered us and we'll tell you why: it really started to feel like the author was strongly implying that Him/He was right all along about everything. And, by extension, that would mean that Her/She and everything she stood for were wrong all along. We started to get the sense that Him/He was a self-insert character who was now confirming personal biases. That felt contrived.

It almost felt like the author was saying, "I am the good guy and I've been right all along."

That becomes a bit more of a problem when the two start info-dumping on each other. It reminded us of that awkward reunion between Han Solo & Leia in Force Awakens when they're just explaining years of history to each other in seconds (so the audience knows what's going on). It didn't seem natural.

Oh, and speaking of unnatural... when Her/She and Him/He first reunite, they start talking to each other in legalese like they're in an courtroom! It's full of procedures and all.

Who does that?

Like, on one hand, it's unique and a little funny.
On the other hand, it would probably never happen. It's awkward, weird, and unnatural.

But we digress. Maybe it shows that they know each other like the back of their hands. It shows they have rapport and a common understanding.

But then again... it's confusing. Like, if you're not an attorney and you're just reading that, it sounds like two people talking gibberish to each other. It sounds like two computer nerds talking to each other in code!

SEE, WE DID READ THE BOOK! We just don't know what the names of the characters are.

Oh, and by the way, apparently “false neutral” has double meanings. You’d think it would be referring to the idea that the supposedly neutral feelings of a broken-up couple were, in fact, wrong all along—which is sort of true in the case of this book and its character dynamics. Their feelings for each other are far from neutral. In fact, they're rather deep.

However, "false neutral" also refers to a mechanical term in motorcycling and driving: when a gearshift slips into a position that feels like neutral but isn’t, causing the engine to rev without moving forward. In the novel, that second meaning fits just as well: two people caught in a moment that feels like calm detachment but is really an unstable state, one false move away from lurching back into old emotions, unfinished business, and the messy momentum of their past. It's also fitting because, it turns out, Him/He is a motorcyclist, and he busts out his old leather rider jacket for this book. Hilariously, we thought he was going to take her horseback riding for some reason, but that just might be because our brains were fried at that point. 

Anyway... in conclusion. This is a good book. It's solid.
The writing is better than average. The characters are interesting and deep, even despite lacking clear names (we're never letting that go). Like, we even learn that Her/She comes from three generations of Yankees fans. It's little things like that.

Check it out on Amazon!