Bed / by David Whitehouse

The 45th birthday of Malcolm "Mal" Ede's life marks twenty years since he climbed into his bed, his childhood bed, the one at his parents' home, and never left it. He now weighs over half a ton and his bed is now three beds--two king-sized and one single--tied together. Even though Mal can't get out of bed, can't even move, he really doesn't want to. He's satisfied to stay put, a choice which has attracted some oddly favorable attention. His condition has fostered a sort of perverse notoriety with a cult of followers convinced he's making a bold statement about modern life. Meanwhile his family, his mother and father, younger brother and fledgling girlfriend, passively stand by, observing the "truck-size block of sausage meat packed into a pair of cheap tights" that he's become.

Why won't he get out of bed? As a child, Mal was always the one who "liked to be the first to do things", the one with the wondrous curiosity about life who never felt that anything abnormal was unacceptable. He'd stand in the rain all day staring upwards until catching pneumonia. He'd go nude for hours, sometimes days at a time, refusing to wear clothes, even on outings to the supermarket or the park. And while his father, a morosely put-upon figure--"Dad didn't work, he toiled"--cursed his son's peculiarities and made solid attempts to rectify his behavior, he lost too many battles to Mal's willful insistence. The boy just wouldn't conform to standards; he loved the novelty of different experiences. But over time as the whimsicalities of childhood gave way to the mundane responsibilities of adulthood, Mal's spirits faded and his spunky resolve to live differently turned to disillusionment. Any incentive to live at all promptly went with it. His ultimate decision to remain in bed permanently, an act much enabled by his incredibly accommodating mother, was simply a reaction to what was expected of him as he grew older. The situation hasn't been popular with everyone of course. Along with his father, Mal's younger brother, who used to love but now loathes his morbidly obese counterpart, can't help but wish ill on his elder sibling--"Mal's death is the only thing that can save this family because his life has destroyed it".

With a well-crafted story narrated in first person by the protagonist's unnamed younger brother, Whitehouse has debuted a novel which is not only rich in acerbic wit and humor, but soul-searching in its existential implications. Bed isn't all satire, nor is it a serious allegory or gimmicky fable. It's a subtly poetic anecdotal piece highlighted by the obligations of familial love under extreme circumstances. As the narrator jumps back and forth in time, relating how all of this came about, we're introduced to a family very much like any other middle class English household where the natural developmental characteristics of children failed to apply to someone. Mal's condition (note the pun on the name) may be clinical depression or some other mental disorder (Peter Pan Syndrome possibly) though it's never indicated. But details of his life, the origins of his behavioral irregularities and his steadfast determination to remain immobile aren't so odd as to warrant exclusive attention. Mal's simply a product of his own, sound choices and his family's the affected party, something the book elucidates with incredibly amusing drollery and candor. (FIC WHITEHOU)

Born Round: The Secret History of a Full-Time Eater / by Frank Bruni

For Frank Bruni, eating has always been a labor of love. Food has been his best friend and at times his worst enemy. The product of second generation Italian Americans for whom food was a no nonsense affair, Bruni never had the chance to miss any meals much less pass on any of his family's delicious culinary delights. So it's little surprise that the lighthearted journalist's lifelong love affair with food has led to a chronic weight problem and, subsequently, a perpetual struggle against obesity. And it has been a struggle. All throughout childhood, adolescence and into adulthood Bruni has been ever-conscious of his weight as a detractor to his self-esteem and well-being. "I wore pants with a waist size two to three inches greater than his, and I sometimes had to be taken to the husky section of boys’ departments to find them. Husky: I knew that wasn’t a good thing, a flattering thing. Other kids made sure of that." (p. 37).

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Bruni has fought anorexia and bulimia, has had many an episode with binge eating and subsequent purging, has gone through every fad diet imaginable, abused laxatives and diet pills, devoted countless hours of his life to exercise and starved himself relentlessly. Nothing seemed to work, until he finally found a way to both accept his condition as, well, round and uniquely modify it to his lifestyle. A former political correspondent during the Bush/Gore election, Bruni parlayed his journalistic skills into a gig with the New York Times where he combined his love of eating and culinary expertise into a position as a food critic. It was the right fit. Bruni found "closure" about his obsessive eating and issues with weight control, resolving to live within himself and as himselrf n effect, his obsession with food was the very thing that ultimately liberated him. Bruni is as honest as he is accurate about his own neverending struggle with weight gain and eating, chronicling his issues ever since early, early childhood, his rising weight all through his pre-teen years whereupon it shaped his identity, essentially the backbone of his conscious. Many, many readers can identify with Bruni and his style is easy to catch on to in this above average memoir. (FIC BRUNI)