"Picture Perfect" by Jodi Piccoult

My criteria for picking a new audiobook to accompany me on my travels is relatively simple.  While it parallels the standards anyone may use in choosing a new book for a warm cup of coffee in a pleasant setting on a spring afternoon, differences do exist  - at leastwise for myself.

First, subject matter is of prime importance.  There must exist a level of interest high enough to self-impose oneself in a closed vehicle for an indeterminate period of time.  Granted, a lousy book can be whisked from a machine and tossed out the window; but in travel, that relegates ones entertainment to a series of songs on the radio, three to four minutes in length.  When a journey might consume hours of one's time, three to four minutes fails to hold focus for very long.

If this standard cannot be met, and nothing of impending interest actually leaps out and grabs you, there is always the option of the narrator.  A good reader can, at times, turn a lousy book into a tolerable one.  Not an easy task, but with the best voices out there it is possible.

If neither of these two marks can be met, the only one remaining is the one I personally avoid as often as I can.  It is a simple choosing based on author name. Name authors are popular for a reason.  Sometimes discovering why that is can indeed be enjoyable.

At other times...

Well...   problems are very real.

This last option is what I resorted to in choosing "Picture Perfect" by Jodi Piccoult.  While her name was quite familiar to me, I never viewed her work as blending in with the myriad of name authors I work to avoid, i.e. those same authors whose given name and surname outshine the title of their book - and whose books often come to the bookshelves at an assembly-line pace.

Jodi Piccoult, in contrast, seemed to suffuse her books with identity; though 'Picture Perfect' was my first, there appeared to be the traits of character necessary to define one of her books from the next.

Unfortunately, there were no characters of any traits.

The story is, in essence, about one woman, Cassie Barrett, the anthropologist, and one man, Alex Rivers, the 'god-like' movie actor who can do no apparent wrong.  The two meet when one of Alex's movies intrudes upon one of Cassie's anthropological digs.  In the film, he is playing the part of an anthropologist; and he need an actual anthropologist for technical advisor to instruct him in the role. 

When the two initially meet, he mistakes her for an extra who is to wait on him hand and foot.  He tells her to go get him a drink.  She does so - incredulously - and promptly dumps the drink in her lap.  Rather than reacting in a rage, as pompous movie stars are expected to react, he actually laughs, enjoying her independent spirit.  Naturally, they 'fall in love', get married, and the nauseating romance begins.

I say nauseating simply from the endless reams of pages where she confesses how wonderful he is, and he talks on and on about how much he adores her, fawning over each other in this absurd depiction of the male/female relationship, as Alex sounds no different than Cassie in this recitation of 'love'...

In other words, he never talks like a man.  He never sounds like a man.  A man would not speak as he speaks.  The aggression that is within him (and which supposedly is to provide the impetus for his beating Cassie) is never given proper voice.  Piccoult attempts to link it to an abusive father, but she does so merely in words.  Alex beats Cassie (for no reason), he appologizes profusely, she forgives him and accepts him back in her arms only to be beaten again at a later date.  There is a flimsy attempt to tie his need to beat his wife to the pressures of his work; but that also fails to ring the believability bell.

There is no threat; there is no fear.  Alex's beatings feel no more terrifying that some grumpy husband who comes home from a bad day of work and kicks the family dog out of his way into the house.

From what I have heard of Jodi Piccoult, she never creates character-driven stories with generic plot-lines to carry a reader through beginning, middle, and end.  Instead, she crafts her tales around subject matter, through which she then drives her characters.  "Picture Perfect" is thematic meant to address domestic violence, a worthwhile topic to which one should bring attention.  However, if the characters are no better drawn than stick figures, what does it matter if one beats up the other.

Alex Rivers initially falls in love with Cassie because of her independent spirit.  Fair enough start.  But what happens to that spirit once the romance begins?   Why does Cassie suddenly transform into a fawning groupie who can't believe she's married to the number one movie star in the world?  Whatever it was about Alex Rivers that caused her to fall in love with him (there is a subtle inference of the 'little boy' in him that draws out a mothering instinct, but even that's not enough to believe she would allow herself to be beaten) is veiled from the readers' eye.  Characters must carry reasons for their actions; and these do not.

Things began promisingly enough.  A woman is wandering about a graveyard.  She neither knows who she is nor how she got there.  A man is driving towards Los Angeles when he is harassed by the police due to his Indian ethnicity.  He is on his way into the city to become part of the LAPD, but they don't care.  They merely see someone who is not like them.















If none of these three marks can be met, the only option remaining - and one I certainly abhor - is selecting a book by name, author's name.  These are the authors who release a new book every month with their name overshadowing whatever the fad name of their latest book might be - often it has little to nothing to do with the actual content of the book.  These books, unless recommended, all blend together into one coherent mess.

Yet what is one to do when there is no other option available?

Thus, such is how I arrived at the decision to choose this book from Jodi Piccoult.  I never read any of her works before this one


Why is everyone reading these books by the deceased Swedish author?  What has everyone fascinated about these vampire books by this woman named Meyer?

Such is how I found myself acquainted with the 'Girl' books of Stieg Larrson as well as the Twilight saga of Stephanie Meyer.  I have never been one to choose a book based upon author name alone - if said author's work was unfamiliar.

Then I choose this one by Jodi Piccoult just because I had never read anything by Jodi Piccoult.

Though clearly popular, I understand why I had never read any by Jodi Piccoult.  In tje grand scheme of charactr development, story construction, and just good old fashioned conflict, this book is...

Well, I should refrain from any generic criticism based upon my own tastes, as there are those who relish books of this category.  For me to castigate with pitiless virulence the shallow fluff of this supposed 'romance', as such emotional distaste often leafs one in tje direction of doing, accomplishes nothing.  The question is WHY I so loathed the relationship between Cassandra Barrett and Alex Rivers.

First off, beginning where the story startee off - the beginning - I assumed it a book with promise.  A woman is wanderring around a graveyard.  She knows not who she is.