The Emperor's Children

by Claire Messud

Much like the emperor, the emperor’s children have no clothes. Huh? Wait, back up. Remember that story, The Emperor’s New Clothes? Well, Messud’s new novel is a riff on that concept.

Enter the emperor’s children: Marina Thwaite, Danielle Minkoff, and Julius Clarke. Graduates of Brown and destined to be successful, they have reached the age of thirty and are still not successful. Marina is the daughter of noted journalist Murray Thwaite, and more than anything else, she is a socialite, an “it girl.” She’s never had a job, and she’s been writing a book on, get this: children’s fashions, for years. She’s going nowhere and would be out on the street if she didn’t have such a wildly successful father. Danielle is a struggling documentary maker. And Julius is just struggling. He is a freelance critic and also dabbles in temp work. He’s at his best when he can find himself a sugar daddy.

Enter the interlopers: Ludovic Seeley, a slick journalist from Australia who has big plans for a new magazine in the States and Frederick “Bootie” Tubb, the self-proclaimed autodidact and college drop-out, who is also Murray’s nephew. Between the two of them, they will be a part of the exposure of the emperor’s children. Little by little, the three children of the emperor will be exposed to all.

Not that anyone cares. Those three characters are so unlikable. Wait, all of those characters are unlikable. And one more thing: September 11 will change all of their lives forever. Ugh. Not another one of those novels. I’m so disgusted with authors who are now using 9/11 as a plot device. Lame. I read this because it got a good review in the New York Times. I think it may have even hit the bestseller list. But it stinks. Don’t bother.

12/4/06