May We Be Forgiven, A.M. Homes’ 10th novel, starts with a perfectly poisonous metaphor for the decay of the American family: Over an extravagant Thanksgiving dinner in a wealthy suburb, Harry Silver escapes to the kitchen to avoid the barbs from his racist in-laws and his domineering brother George, only to have George’s wife, Jane, attempt to grope him as he leans over the turkey. This evisceration of family togetherness is a narrative dead end; the author of The Safety Of Objects and Music For Torching leaves no one to root for, and with authors from John Cheever to Jonathan Franzen occupying this territory, there’s hardly any new ground to claim.
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