CMBCBC: All Fours

If a book makes you want to call a friend and say "wtf" is that actually a great book?

This month for the Celebrity Memoir Book Club Book Club we read the fascinating and polarizing (semi-autobiographical???) novel All Fours by Miranda July. Below are the questions and comments submitted by worms, keep the discussion going in the comments and vote for next month’s book on our patreon!

Does something have to be enjoyable to be good? Because i didn’t like the experience of the first half - i listened on audiobook and it was unsettling but ultimately I don’t think that makes it Bad, I think it makes it easier to dismiss.
- @Lgengler13

I don’t think things have to be enjoyable to be good, but I also don’t think everything has to be good. I wouldn’t say this is a bad book, but I wouldn’t say it’s good either. I think you can not enjoy something but admit that it is good and understand why others think it is good, but with this book I find that difficult to understand. For lack of growth and resolution I would say this book falls into a middle category of just being alright?
I do agree with your point of not enjoying something making it easier to dismiss! Even if I can understand why something is good I can always find a reason to dismiss that opinion solely because I didn’t enjoy it, it also makes it easier to sit with your opinion that something is not enjoyable to you and not dig deeper into why it is just objectively good.

@Madi.rueda

I was uncomfortable during a lot of the reading of this book! But I kept thinking about it when I wasn’t reading it. It really drew me in and I think how compelling it was made it “good” for me.

@Mewderssecretary

I think that something not being enjoyable might also make it more likely to be taken seriously? I don’t really think that’s a good thing, but the beginning of the book was so cold and harsh that it made me feel like I was reading something Dark and Serious and Literary.

Colette

I don't think something has to be enjoyable to be good, no. I think what makes it good is the fact that it felt true even when I wasn't enjoying it. Like... True to this person's experience, honest. Which is why I think I didn't like it - it was too raw and I think that often makes things unlikeable.
And the ability to tell something truthfully and convince the reader that it is true is evidence of its quality too. I think that's something difficult, authenticity, or the feeling of authenticity perhaps. Either way, I kept reading and wanting to read even when I didn't like it (most of it tbh), and I think that's what makes it good.

Grace S.

I found the first quarter to third of the book very confusing and couldn't relate to or understand the character's actions, which at first was naturally frustrating but those choices were what led the story to be able to flourish into such a thrilling place. Ultimately, I think anything that I didn't enjoy at the beginning of the book was what made me absolutely love it later on as I found the narrative so unique and gripping.

Cara

There is a conversation about the idea of All Fours being the most vulnerable position versus being the most stable position. What is your take on this, and what does that idea mean in the larger context of the story?
- @andreas.readss

I think the whole novel is an exploration of the intersection of strength/weakness, power/vulnerability. When it comes to the narrator’s relationship with Harris, their strongest moments as a couple are their scariest and most vulnerable (Sam’s birth, dog). And in a larger sense, aging and menopause carry those themes - I think they’re especially highlighted when the narrator polls her friends about menopause. First her questions bring out the negative aspects, the loss, diminishing sexuality, etc. Her second poll shows all the positive aspects and how these women came into immense strength as they aged. “All fours” is a great metaphor for these themes because it’s a vulnerable position that actually is very stable. Also the narrator ends her dance crawling toward the camera on all fours - she’s physically the strongest she’s been while doing this extremely vulnerable dance.

Caley

I think this tied into the theme of true intimacy being what leads to stability in one's sense of self and sense of others. The narrator doesn't really understand who she is until she allows herself to experience intimacy with other people; once she does that, she progresses as a character and comes into her own. Being on all fours feels vulnerable because we're showcasing a part of our body we normally wouldn't, but we're also the most connected to solid ground that we can be when we assume that position.

@squishyvegan

I equate this to the other metaphor of Parkers vs drivers in that I think neither of these make sense and they both seem made up.

Elizabeth

I feel like this idea was all wrapped up with the other ideas in a very specific way that was trying to communicate some greater idea that never came together for me.
It made me question a few times if I was smart enough for the book lol

Anyway, I think the idea of all fours being stable vs. vulnerable doesn't make sense to me because I don't see those two things as opposites, in conflict. I don't think vulnerability is the opposite of stability and vice versa. If you're confident within vulnerability, it is a stable way of being, of submitting.

I think the point is that being vulnerable can be a stable way of being once you embrace it - which is what the narrator did imo. She lets go, she free fell for a bit, and then she found herself submitting to her emotions - she had no other choice, she was there, at their whims - and once she embraced that, she found stability.

Grace S.

Did you feel that the epilogue successfully tied up loose ends or was it frustrating to see time move forward without any real acknowledgment of the way her actions effected the people around her?

No! I felt very confused with the epilogue as there seemed to be this strange switch at the very end and there was a sense that the main character was making breakthroughs and by the end had come to terms with where her life is but I didn’t feel that way at all. I didn’t find that to be true, I felt as if there was a constant conversation about how she wanted to change and grow but there was little to show her personal growth and acceptance of self. Ending with her walking off and feeling this sort of acceptance and content just felt strange to me, like maybe there were things that happened in the fours years from the end to epilogue but with such little explanation it felt unresolved. It felt as though she justified all her actions and just said that’s enough without actually growing and having anything to show for it.

@Madi.rueda

I found it satisfying enough. And I don’t think she had to acknowledge how her actions effected people, women don’t need to put themselves into a garbage bag before jumping out a window to avoid a mess for others, all the time.

Anon

The epilogue was absolutely bizarre to me. It felt like there was absolutely no consequences for anyone in this novel. This novel felt like it was written from a point of complete privilege and her "happy ending" was just the cherry on top in regard to that being my opinion. I think there is so much more discourse that could have occurred if there was perhaps more of a focus on Sam and how they are moving along in the world and how Harris and the narrator were truly navigating life and how their partners were ultimately impacted.

@bookstagramwithbean

Generally I am not a fan of epilogues at the end of novels as I feel they are often underwhelming and the story has more impact when wrapped up at the end of the main narrative. In this context I think that the epilogue ultimately did show how her actions effected at least Davey, and it is up to the reader to decide how much or little his decision to pursue his passion was influenced by his experience with the narrator.

Kara

This book was extremely polarizing for a lot of reasons but very much in the way it discusses middle aged womanhood. Do you think it's possible to broach that topic in a way that doesn't create a divide?

The one part of the book I loved is when it truly began to address the experience of middle age beyond the scope of the sexual attraction that others have towards us. There was that moment towards the end when the main character is taking in all those messages from menopausal women about their positive experiences with menopause/perimenopause and I thought it was absolutely profound. Is the assertion of this question that the discussion of middle age causes a divide between those that are younger than and those that are older than? Or the there’s a divide between how women see themselves and expect to see others? I guess I don’t quite understand the implied divisiveness.

Personally, as someone entering her perimenopausal years, I loved the brief moment of portraying middle age that was solely about women’s experiences with their own bodies rather than the social expectations thrust upon it. I think THOSE discussions fascinating and unifying.

Jess

I think other authors have successfully talked about middle aged womanhood without the need of improbable and meandering scenarios.

SD

This was the topic that I actually felt was covered in a way that I feel was necessary to women at large, specifically those that may be perimenopausal or menopausal. This is not an aspect of hormonal change that we truly learn about as women. Is this covered in school? No. Do our mothers want to discuss these changes with us? Not mine. All we hear about are hot flashes but it is clearly so much more complex than just uncomfortable temperature changes. I believe that the depressive element of being a woman in this stage is something that we should be reading more about, just perhaps from a wider range of women and not so steeped in privilege.

@bookstagramwithbean

Probably not since people will always hate women and find aging women taboo or controversial. That being said, I think the author used more “shocking” scenes to show aging women in an extreme and another author could show an aging woman in a lot less extreme/graphic scenes that would be much more approachable to a broader group of people (but maybe I’m just too prudish? And I’m in the minority here)

Ellie

Why don't you think the author gave the main character a name? Were we supposed to identify her with Miranda July? Were we supposed to find her universal?

My take on this was that it was to do with the main character not knowing who she really is, and this idea that she is not really her true self in her marriage. I took it as trying to reinforce that idea. She doesn’t know who she really is, so not giving her a name means we can’t even label who she is (if that makes sense). But the idea that she is universal is also interesting.

Anon

I naturally and subconsciously had Miranda July at front of mind while I was reading. A few times in the first half I would catch myself doing this and then try to move away from that comparison and into a truly fictional character before questioning why I felt the need to do that and giving in to what I assumed was an intentional choice. I didn't conflate the entire story with July's personal life as I don't know much about it and don't feel the need to but I found the parallels to her character added an interesting layer that just added to the narrative for me. I didn't find the main character universal as so many of her actions were so erratic, unrelatable and highly specific.

Kara

I think we were supposed to think of her as ourselves or as a stand-in for anyone we could know, which would force us to empathize with such a deeply unlikeable main character. Which, for me, worked! I definitely thought of the one slightly deranged friend I had throughout this entire novel and I think that allowed me to have far more patience than I ordinarily would have with this character.

Jess

Final Thoughts:

The entire time I was reading this, I couldn’t help thinking “Jesus, just get a grip!” The one message I really took away from this is, if you have no sense of self, you can never be truly happy. Is that too harsh?

Also, why are these types of books always describing sex in the most disturbed ways? Call me a prude, but I never want that tampon scene with a partner. Maybe I’m a prude but a lot of this book made me feel icked out.

Ellie

There is a general stereotype that artists are inherently narcissistic, because they have to focus on their art and place their art above all else, including family. On the flip side, the ideal mother is viewed as someone totally selfless, who puts her family above all else. How do you think the main character struggles with this, and does she ever land on one side more than the other?

Lauren

This is a book I never would have chosen on my own, however, I’m glad to have read it. A married 45 year old woman seeking freedom, discussing a spectrum of sexuality and love. It made my question my more “traditional” views on things.
That tampon scene? Was it hot? Was it too much? Was it the most intimate two people could ever be?

@mamawolfs

I didn't really "get" this book until the first NICU flashback. Then it made perfect sense.

I was a NICU mom to a daughter with a rare seizure disorder that doctors didn't understand. Like Sam, my daughter survived against the odds and has been able to live pretty normally, but I'll never forget that time, the profound sense of loss and primal fear, the agony of not knowing what would happen next because no one in the hospital could answer any of our questions, no matter how we worded them, no matter how much research we did to make sure we were speaking their language. Those flashback scenes were so close to my own experience that I had to take a breath and stop reading after every single one.

I think my experience gave me a completely different perspective on the story of someone selfishly blowing up their life, destabilizing their family, neglecting their career, and becoming someone new. At the beginning of the book I thought the narrator was so irredeemably selfish I wasn't sure I'd even finish it, but after the context of her trauma was revealed, I found myself totally empathizing with her desires to change everything about the way she was living.

Our experience with the NICU left me with severe postpartum PTSD, and in the year following, I also underwent a total transformation and life restructuring. I didn't have an affair and a crazy sexual awakening where I decided I wanted to fuck the entire population, but I did turn my career upside down, and our family moved across the country.

It made a lot of sense to me that the narrator would be so unhappy and "stuck" in her life after going through such an intense experience and not taking the time to process it, especially as someone who seemed kind of unsure about motherhood and insecure in her own sense of self. I found myself nodding along to a lot of her inner dialogue. The things the narrator did were a lot more dramatic and deeply selfish than anything I'd do myself, but I fully understood the impulses that led to her terrible decisions. It clicked for me in a way that surprised me and humbled me.

Reading this book felt like releasing a huge weight off my shoulders in that sense. I just wanted to share that.

@squishyvegan

Final Thoughts from Ashley and Claire:

It’s damn near unanimous that this book was uncomfortable. The entire time I was reading it, and even weeks after, I swung between appreciation and hatred and just like a desktop newtons cradle at a fancy office I settled almost exactly in the middle. I found so much of the imagery in this book so jarring it almost shocked me into believing it was genius but the more I think about it, the more I think this book was hiding behind elaborate and slightly disturbing choices. So much so, it was a disservice to the really positive elements of this book. I felt the main character was one of the more unlikeable characters I’ve ever read, just coasting on some abstract genius we’re told about over and over again. The final third of this book, the part that would have been good had the first two thirds not upset me so much, almost lost credibility because I couldn’t believe that someone who had been such a horrible friend and partner throughout this book could have friends and colleagues to call on. Overall, I think this book tackled some really interesting topics and I’m really look forward to reading more about them somewhere else. — A

As a capital P Prude and someone who hates “white-woman-says-something-gross-so-it’s-raw” art, I was worried going in. But I have to say I loved this book. I found the Author to be very aware of all the criticisms the Narrator receives, and for me, the book not only addressed all the criticisms the book raised but also answered them.

Even though on the surface the book did have graphic, often gross sex scenes, ultimately it was about the Narrator recognizing true connection by grappling with and sharing her trauma of childbirth. One of the most important aspects of the novel to me was how wrong the narrator is consistently. She’s wrong about everyone and everything! She misjudges her husband, Davy’s intentions, Audra’s sex life, that butch lesbian in San Francisco, she’s wrong about her project with Arkanda. Also, despite being an over sharing artist, she is incapable of truly opening up, again to her husband, even to her best friend she won’t share the message board for FMH that she frequents. She’s on a constant journey to understand within herself what is universal and what is unique. So although the Narrator herself seems to believe she speaks for All Women, the author understands she barely speaks for herself. A woman who is fully self-actualized does not as an adult need to spend $20,000 on motel furniture because she’s too afraid to bring sculptures into her marital home. The whole plot begins because the Narrator refuses to believe she is a Parker not a Driver.

Ultimately, her attention seeking behavior does not serve to offer her closeness, but only confronting the trauma of childbirth with Arkanda does. After this pivotal moment she’s able to release her alienation and explore life more honestly. She’s moved by Davy’s dance and is able to experience Ones with the Audience through Witnessing, becoming the “driver” she wanted to be.

For me, this book was not just about the “secret sex lives of middle aged women” but about the still under-discussed identity shaping experiences of womanhood. As perimemopause approaches and the ticking clock on this phase of her life comes to a close, the wounds of this phase of her life need acknowledgement. She goes from having sex with Audra and believing the best way to know anyone is to have sex with them, to feeling released by simply lying on the floor with Arkanda saying “I can’t believe this happened.” At one point she says being famous can turn women into men, so it’s fitting that in the company of Arkanda, who’s fame eclipses the Narrators and returns her to just “a woman” she’s able to confront these feelings.

I recently heard someone talking about childbirth and they casually mentioned the strongest position to give birth is “on All Fours.” I’m a big believe that “You don’t read the book, the book reads you,” so it could be my Prude talking, but I didn’t find this book to be about all the weird sex you can’t have with your husband, as much as about all the layers of yourself you didn’t realize were there. I found the narrator to be a truly layered and robust character, the plot to be exciting and fresh, and although sometimes the language was a bit clunky, it is a book I could read a few more times and still be impressed and enthralled by. — C