Cleopatra and Frankenstein

November 22, 2021
In this involving if strained debut, Mellors dissects the tumultuous relationship between two magnetic and damaged people. Frank, a successful ad executive with a worsening drinking problem, meets Cleo, an aspiring British painter 20 years his junior, on New Year’s Eve in Manhattan, and they begin an affair. Six months later, they’re married. Soon, resentment, carelessness, infidelity, and unresolved issues from their childhoods come between them (Frank’s mother was an emotionally distant alcoholic and Cleo’s died by suicide), but their intoxicating chemistry keeps them together. Mellors leavens this marital Sturm und Drang with a satirical portrait of present-day New York life. Some of it lands—one of Cleo’s friends dismisses a man for having “shoe trees in all his shoes, even the sneakers. Like a psychopath”—but too often it reads like caricature. Zoe, Frank’s younger half-sister, attends a “Climaxing to Consciousness” workshop; Santiago, a Peruvian chef, laments that he is “The fat friend. The sidekick. But I have feelings. I feel a lot.” A notable exception is Eleanor, a screenwriter who takes a freelance job at Frank’s firm and develops a flirtation with him. Her winning sections achieve the mix of wit, pathos, and romance the rest strives to attain. The tone and intrigue can feel a bit scattered, but an enticing aura glows at this work’s heart. (Feb.)Correction: An earlier version of this review incorrectly named the Santiago character.

January 1, 2022
Cleo is 24, an ethereal painter from the UK, trying on New York City for size as she pursues a secondary art degree and heals from the death of her mother a few years prior. Frank is in his forties, drinks like a fish, and leads a booming advertising agency. Their serendipitous meeting one New Year's Eve leads to a marriage at City Hall soon after. Cleo and Frank exacerbate one another's bad habits and infuriate each other in their differences, but for a time, the flame of their love stays lit. Said flame grows dim as Frank meets Eleanor, a new writer at his agency, her sturdy sincerity a breath of fresh air, and as Cleo explores her attraction to Frank's best friend, an art director named Anders. Inherited trauma, genetically acquired bad habits, and general immaturity sabotage Cleo and Frank's cracked union, and it will take more than the help of their equally troubled friends to survive. Mellors' debut novel is deeply engrossing and easily lovable, perfect for fans of Sally Rooney and Lauren Groff.

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Starred review from December 15, 2021
A May-December romance rapidly hits turbulence in early-aughts Manhattan. Mellors' remarkably assured and sensitive debut opens with a meet-cute that's as charming and frothy as it is misleading. On New Year's Eve 2006, Cleo, a 24-year-old budding British artist, shares an elevator with Frank, a 40-something ad exec. Easy banter leads to flirtation, and flirtation speeds to romance; within six months, they're married. Figuring out whether that decision has to do with true love, keeping Cleo in the country, or satisfying other suppressed needs is just one of the storm clouds that soon blow in. Quentin, Cleo's closest friend, is consumed by a jealousy he sublimates into drugs and sex. Cleo's art ambitions go sideways. Frank's drinking regresses into alcoholism. His fashion-student sister, Zoe, grows reckless, needy, and similarly addictive. Eleanor, a young copywriter at Frank's firm, is a perceived threat. Affairs are considered and/or consummated. The novel's somber stretches, wide cast of characters, and cross sections of New York social spheres strongly evoke Hanya Yanagihara's A Little Life, but Mellors also cultivates a sprightlier style that keeps the novel's familiar tropes from feeling clich�d or reducing her characters to types. (Think of Armistead Maupin or Laurie Colwin in a moodier register.) She's playful with characterization and voice; Eleanor's sections are distinctively written in the first-person, with a young writer's pitch-perfect brashness and anxiety. And she describes parties, workplaces, apartments, and familial dynamics with impressive sophistication. She has a knack for crisp, witty summaries, as in her description of a seedy underground gay club that Quentin haunts: "They'd striven for Grecian fantasy and ended up with Greek restaurant." But the humor doesn't overwhelm the melancholy heart of the story: At its core, it's a novel about how love and lovers are easily misinterpreted and how romantic troubles affect friends and family. A canny and engrossing rewiring of the big-city romance.

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