Book Report: Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine

22. Gail Honeyman, Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine (2017) (4/15/21)

I picked this book up because of a five-star review by a writer I respect. I must say, I was disappointed. Although the title character is, as all the adoring critics say, quirky and funny and, in the end, lovable (if not a bit judgy as well), the story itself leaves much to be desired: it is too pat, strangely naive. I saw the twist at the end coming from early on, and I found the way Eleanor simply quits a years-long heavy-drinking habit like that and comes to terms with a tragedy from her past as if it was a bee sting entirely unbelievable. 

But yes, I liked Eleanor, who is characterized by extreme loneliness, which makes her a social misfit, unable to anticipate social niceties or read people. Therein lies much of the humor. She also has a great vocabulary. I liked the friendship between her and an office co-worker, Raymond: they complement each other nicely. Eleanor is game to try new things, speaks her mind, is unafraid: all admirable qualities.

The story isn't much: it's basically about 29-year-old Eleanor, who lives in Glasgow, reconnoitering reality—hopes and dreams, old traumas, new promises—after having spent her adolescence as a foster child, been in an abusive relationship at uni, and then lived the decade of her adulthood in extreme isolation. She works in an office, and on the weekends she holes up with two big bottles of vodka and eats pesto pasta. I suppose over the course of the book she does develop from being "just fine" to opening up to bigger (emotional) possibilities in life. The joke (such as it is) of her misfitness can't be sustained, however, so it's a relief when she seeks therapy toward the end and realizes a few things about herself, even if her "recovery" happens too quickly and easily. 

Here is an example of her wisdom, which, again, strikes me as just a tad too . . . something: clichéd? too wise for someone with zero social skills? contradictory of the game way she embarks on new relationships? I don't quite believe it, and yet I also do. I can identify. Anyway, here she is at a funeral reception:

This was an all too familiar social scenario for me: standing alone, staring into the middle distance. It was absolutely fine. It was absolutely normal. After the fire, at each new school, I'd tried so hard, but something about me just didn't fit. There was, it seemed, no Eleanor-shaped social hole for me to slot into.
     I wasn't good at pretending, that was the thing. After what had happened in that burning house, given what went on there, I could see no point in being anything other than truthful with the world. I had, literally, nothing left to lose. But, by careful observation from the sidelines, I'd worked out that social success is often built on pretending just a little. Popular people sometimes have to laugh at things they don't find very funny, do things they don't particularly want to, with people whose company they don't particularly enjoy. Not me. I had decided, years ago, that if the choice was between that or flying solo, then I'd fly solo. It was safer that way. Grief is the price we pay for love, so they say. The price is far too high.

My friend listened to the book, which features Scottish accents. Maybe I would have liked it better if I'd heard it? Entirely possible. I didn't dislike it. I'm just not as crazy about it as so many reviewers seem to be. I gave it three stars on Goodreads, meaning "I liked it."