I don’t think I have ever
been challenged, both personally and morally, by any book more than I have
Merritt Tierce’s debut novel Love Me Back. On its surface, I should truly
dislike this book. Judging from the synopsis and from some key scenes in the
story, it would be easy to see this book as having a strong feminist agenda.
While I am far from a chauvinist, I will never be one of those guys who calls
himself a feminist. For one, I am not very comfortable with absolutes, and two,
I find it real phony for men make such a statement. Even if they truly mean it,
it always comes off as insincere pandering to make them look cool and
progressive. But anyway, there are scenes in this book that feel like they are
making a case for female sexual independence through promiscuity. But while
that is a debatable topic in this book, I feel many people who do take that
path are missing the point. Marie, the central flawed narrator of this swift
novel, is characterized in a way that doesn’t warrant pride, honor, knowledge or
even sympathy. In the amoral world she finds herself inhabiting, one of
waitressing, late night shifts and drug induced sex; she becomes both a victim
and victimizer, the user and the used. And the same can be said of her many
partners, who become spiritual identicals to Marie in the course of her sexual
encounters. This book is not a feminist wale for independence, but a scathing
portrait of a lifestyle where love is nothing more than a kids joke, or worse,
doesn’t exist at all. The book feels like something Hubert Selby Jr. would
write if he were still alive, which came as quite a surprise to me. We follow
Marie, a single mom, as she wanders aimlessly through her life, in and out of
waitressing jobs and other men’s beds. It is impossible not to be intrigued by
the depths Marie sinks to. From her first orgasm, brought on by an older black
man, to her crumbling relationship to her daughter, Marie swiftly floats
between being a victim of a harsh system brought on by a simple mistake, as
evidenced by a few flashbacks to her earlier success in high school, to being a
full-on monster, whose appetites for sex and sexual degradation threaten to
swallow her whole. An interesting subtle technique this book uses is how Marie
sees the men in her life. Her first descriptions are sexual ones, and anyone
who might actually care for her, like her husband and a person who tries to ask
her out on an actual date, remain nameless, while we know way too much about
her more toxic partners. Marie can only relate to men through sex, which also
happens to be her only form of social currency in a world that cares little
about her. Overall, Marie reminded me of a Dennis Lehane quote, where he says
some people don’t like kindness, they just want to get into bed, turn off the
lights and feast on one another. Marie is sadly one of these people, and her story
ends with a whimper, and a promise that her life will continue on its current
path. It can be an unpleasant, repugnant ride, but one that is brutally honest
and true to itself.
Rating: 5/5