'American Wife' imagines the life of a first lady
In January 2004, Curtis Sittenfeld had not yet published her first novel when she declared in an essay for Salon that she was a proud liberal who loathed George Bush but adored his wife.
She wasn't kidding. Her essay, titled "Why I love Laura Bush," was a rhapsodic defense of the First Lady, whom Sittenfeld insisted was quietly heroic and incredibly misunderstood.
"Much of the public frustration with Laura seems to stem from her perceived passivity, especially in light of widespread assumption that she's significantly more liberal than George Bush," she wrote. "But what, I asked the people I know, is she supposed to do?"
Four years later, Sittenfeld has answered her own question. Her novel, "American Wife," gives life to a first lady who resembles Laura Bush in so many ways that it's not hard to imagine partisan outrage in response. Republicans will deplore this roman à clef as an invasion of privacy, while a lot of Democrats will abhor the tender portrayal.
Detractors might want to veer off message and actually read the book before lobbing grenades. This story isn't really about Laura Bush, although main character Alice Blackwell does share so many traits with the current first lady that the steamy sex scenes are bound to elicit a collective ewww. Never mind that. Sittenfeld offers a smart and sophisticated portrait of a high-profile political wife who takes the reins of a life she never wanted and holds on tight to who she wants to be.
Alice is a school librarian, quietly liberal and plodding toward her 30s when Charlie Blackwell swaggers into her life. He is a legacy Republican, spoiled by privilege but smarter than he acts. Marriage to Charlie is marriage to a dynasty. Over time Alice becomes a willing, if reticent, prop to his political aspirations.
The first three sections chronicle Alice's early life. She struggles with the discovery that her beloved grandmother is a lesbian. That same grandmother later arranges for a teenage Alice's abortion, and takes her granddaughter's secret to her grave. This brief synopsis suggests a lurch toward sensationalism, but the narrative around these loaded issues is sensitive and helps to illustrate how Alice grows up to be more liberal than her husband.
Sittenfeld nails the many peculiarities of political life, from frequent squirts of Purell on hand-shaken palms to Alice's realization that "I no longer know everyone I know." Fuzzy faces from her past show up on talk shows as experts about her life, and mere acquaintances feel entitled to ask personal favors of the president.
The final section, "1600 Pennsylvania Avenue," is the least gratifying, though perhaps this is intentional. We must witness the whittling away of Alice's resolve, such as when she gives in to pressure to get a facelift - with her husband's blessing. And the smart first lady who fought to retain her own identity now considers the public perception that she is "a bit dull" to be a "minor victory."
Alice becomes less nuanced, too, as real history overtakes the fictional narrative. It's as if Sittenfeld suddenly decided to pile on the similarities so that no one doubted she was championing Laura Bush.
On election night in 2000, Alice and Charlie go to bed thinking he has lost the presidential race, but - surprise! - Florida turns for him. Terrorists attack in 2001, and Charlie takes America to war.
The similarities between the lives of Alice Blackwater and Laura Bush are so numerous that they end up becoming distractions. That's too bad, because Sittenfeld has an astonishing gift for creating characters that take up residence in readers' heads. By the end of the novel, Laura Bush is less an inspiration than a crutch - one that Sittenfeld simply doesn't need.