Several times in Alison Lurie's novel, Foreign Affairs, one of the main characters assures us that she's not a very nice person. Of course, it's hard to believe, because generally speaking, we want to like her -- although it turns out to be an accurate assessment. Whether her unlikability is forgivable . . . I'm not so sure.
Virginia "Vinnie" Miner is an English professor who's firmly established in her field (children's literature, specifically fairy tales, nursery rhymes, and the like) and in her way of life as a fairly frumpy, fairly snooty, fairly selfish, 50-ish divorced woman who prefers England to America. Her world is narrow and she likes it that way. A chance encounter on the plane to London -- which she does everything she can to squelch -- leads her into an acquaintance and then an affair with Charles "Chuck" Mumpson, an American (former) waste-disposal engineer with an almost cartoonish cowboy persona.
Meanwhile, Vinnie's colleague, Fred Turner, also in London for the summer, reels from the disintegration of his marriage and struggles to conduct his research while also pursuing and winning a fascinating, flighty, famous English actress. His relatively youthful foibles provide a stark contrast to Vinnie's desiccated approach to life.
For all their faults and difficulties, Chuck and Fred demonstrate an enthusiasm for living that Vinnie lacks. Chuck's career and marriage are on the rocks, and he's a fish out of water among the English; even so, he ditches his woeful chartered tour and strikes off to research his English ancestor, who he believes was a locally renowned, aristocratic hermit sage. Time and time again, Chuck demonstrates optimism and genuine kindness to others during a very difficult time in his life.
Similarly, Fred makes a mess of things -- by objective standards -- but both he and Chuck manage to be joyful, spontaneous, genuine, glum, and everything in between, while Vinnie's emotional coloring matches her customary wardrobe: beige, beige, and more beige.
In addition to her self-centered lack of emotional color, Vinnie demonstrates a number of unlikable traits. She is a petty thief, for example, with a collection of pilfered small items such as the miniature pitchers used to serve milk at tea. More importantly, she has a genuinely nasty streak, which goes beyond what could be considered the casual racism of 1984 (when this novel was published). Wishing illness upon a person who's given her work a negative review, she imagines him
in one of those huge cold impersonal New York hospitals, at the mercy of
impatient anonymous doctors, overworked nurses, and sullen, underpaid,
non-English-speaking aides, many of them addicted to drugs.
Comments like this are jarring at best and offensive at worst, in a book that's otherwise arch and funny in numerous places. Some of the commentary and situations are highly amusing, despite rather than because of the main character. Although this is Vinnie's story, everyone else is likable or at least sympathetic, while Vinnie herself is not so nice, indeed.
Excerpt (Vinnie is down with a cold):
By eight that evening, when Chuck arrives with beer and a complete Indian takeout supper, enough for at least four people, she feels considerably better. It is only the second time that he has been to her flat, and she is struck again by how out of place he looks there, how large and clumsy and Middle American.
Chuck himself, naturally, is not aware of any incongruity. "Nice place you have here," he says, looking toward the bow window, which frames a sweep of London back garden, brilliantly and variously gold and green in the declining sun. "Nice view. Real pretty flowers." He gestures at a teapot overflowing with overblown yellow roses.
"Thank you." Vinnie smiles uneasily, aware that her roses were not bought at a shop, but instead removed at dusk two days ago from various nearby front gardens.
