Portrait of a marriage doomed to failure

The institution of marriage is falling apart everywhere. Savage capitalism has turned people into consumer objects. From the accelerated succession of couples to polyamory, all options are open for the enjoyment of insatiability. Whoever dares to bet on a long-term monogamous couple faces dilemmas that are difficult to resolve, with the main question being: do the gains outweigh the losses?

Sarah Manguso (Massachusetts, 1974) – an author who reaches us for the first time in Catalan with a solid translation by Ferran Ràfols – explains in Liars the downfall of the marriage formed by Jane, a writer, and John, a half-artist who makes a living in the erratic world of failed companies. Right from the start, a bad omen crosses our path. John can't quite shake off his ex. Be wary of those who drag their past too much. Liars is a very well-articulated novel and fully contemporary in its form. The author once again uses the system of short paragraphs she employed in Very Cold People (Alpha Decay, 2023), but this time she goes further and moves in discontinuity. Nothing further from an exhaustive account. We only transit through the essential moments, and it is the concrete facts, the sensations, and the reflections of the narrator, Jane, that move us forward.

The unfair patriarchal redistribution of roles is the basis of unhappiness here. While John works outside the home and supports the family, she plays all the other roles in the deck. "My life had disappeared into motherhood and housekeeping," says the character. She enjoys raising the child, but it makes her dissolve as a person. Ironically, it is Jane's literary career that advances. "I could have put my career in the freezer, worked as a full-time editor and had the child in full-time daycare. But I didn't. I decided to keep being a writer," she reflects. Beyond motherhood, Jane wants to make her contribution to the world.

Married to an Impostor

Mentiders reminded me of the film The Good Wife, based on the novel by Meg Wolitzer, where a splendid Glenn Close plays the wife of a brand-new Nobel laureate in literature, and it turns out she's the one who writes his books. A Maria Lejárraga, in short. Our Jane's case isn't as serious, but she's still married to an impostor, a character who perfectly embodies the traits of an already obsolete masculinity. Very significant is a paragraph you'll find on page 39 which explains how, by twelve noon, she's done everything, while he... he... "John had gotten up and taken a shit." Incidentally, I would criticize Manguso for this recurring tendency towards escatology, which is tiresome. Having to read the verb fuck all the time is punishment enough.

The husband also often points out her greater vulnerability. Jane had been hospitalized as a young woman for a mental health issue and takes antidepressants.