Given my overwhelming admiration for Siri Hustvedt’s writing, it’s only fair that I review her newest offering, The Sorrows of an American. You might remember that I’ve raved about a couple of her other works, The Blindfold and What I Loved in recent installments of “The Finicky Reader,” and I intend to gush about this effort right….now….

By far the most frustrating part about reading this novel was the distinct lack of time I’ve had to devote to it over the past weeks. I generally finish a novel per week (if not more when I have the time), and it took me all of three weeks to complete this compelling work. However, I feel certain that readers without five classes of research papers to grade would finish the book in just a couple of days. It’s a testament to Hustvedt’s involving work that I didn’t lose interest over the delayed gratification of the past weeks. Once she has me hooked, I’m hooked for good.

It is hard to know exactly where to begin a discussion of the book because it can only be described as labyrinthine. Hustvedt throws the reader directly into a swirl of characters—I can think of more than fifteen right off the top of my head—with richly imagined plights. Protagonist, Erik Davidsen, is a New York City psychiatrist, and along with his sister, Inga, the siblings undertake to study their father’s memoir shortly after his death. The two quickly stumble upon a cryptic message to their father, Lars, from a woman named Lisa that reads, “Dear Lars, I know you will never ever say nothing about what happened. We swore it on the BIBLE. It can’t matter now she’s in heaven or to the ones here on earth. I believe in your promise. Lisa.” These compelling words push Inga and Erik to investigate their father’s life more deeply and prompt his children to question his character and his role in Lisa’s life.

The journal and Lisa’s enigmatic message set up a nice framework for the story as they introduce issues central to the novel. It’s hard to isolate the “point” of The Sorrows of an American as Hustvedt seems to have myriad goals in mind including the fragmentation of the self, the inability to truly know any other person, and unavoidable fact that every individual harbors a web of secrets. Throughout the novel, Erik’s experiences in his personal life as well as his ruminations on his father’s journal help guide the reader to explore Hustvedt’s themes.

It’s a tricky business, the web of characters and their troubles, but they are expertly integrated with the novel’s form. Lacking chapter breaks, the book moves along from vignette to vignette, sliding fluidly from Lars’s journal to Erik’s crush on his downstairs tenant, Miranda, and his fatherly affection for her daughter, Eglantine. He must help his sister, the widow of a famous author, weather the probable fallout from a newly discovered affair and the acquisition of some potentially harmful letters. Additionally, reader is faced with Erik’s ruminations on his patients, a supremely mysterious artist/stalker, and the search to solve the mystery of Lisa’s message to his father.

While it sounds like a chore to read, somehow Hustvedt’s maze remains incredibly readable and far less confusing than I make it out to be in this attempt at summary. Erik grounds the story and gives it a strong axis on which events turn. Because every situation grows out of Erik’s experience or those close to him, it’s possible for the reader to keep a hold on the pieces of the plot as they slowly come together.

The Sorrows of an American is far less atmospheric and dark than What I Loved and The Blindfold, but it certainly kept me enthralled and wanting more. Hustvedt is one of the most intellectual writers on the market these days, and for that reason many will dismiss her work as too lofty or label it pretentious, but I can’t help but admire Hustvedt for speaking the language of psychology, art, and literature. The novel is not only a network of plot points, but also a twisted bunch of references to philosophers, novels, artwork, and New York City locales with a richly imagined story at its center.

I’m the first person to scoff at the idea that a reader should lean on an author’s biography when reading their work, but in Siri Hustvedt’s case, she often unabashedly integrates her own life experience into her writing. In the case of The Sorrows of an American, the journals of Lars Davidsen were sections pulled from her own father’s memoir. Likewise, her interest in the Norwegian immigrant experience and a life in Minnesota call forth comparisons to her formative years.

If I were to suggest a first novel for a reader new to Siri Hustvedt’s work, The Sorrows of an American would not garner first place. The Blindfold and What I Loved were far more exciting—thrilling even—but her latest effort is interesting in a slower, formally interesting way. It is thoughtful above all other adjectives, and it warrants a re-read to fully appreciate its subtle nuances.

Oddly enough, I didn’t hear any press about this book before its release, and I only realized it existed when a fellow lit-blogger mentioned it in passing. Hustvedt is one of the most underappreciated authors around, so I urge you to give her work a try. Do it for posterity. How can you resist that?


Andi is a recovering university academic employed by the North Carolina community college system as an English instructor. While she decided to forego a Ph.D. and career as a professor, she fills in all the free time her current position affords her with editing literary publications, reviewing, freelancing, and blogging. Her work can be found in the journal, Multi-Ethnic Literature of the United States (MELUS), and Altar magazine as well as online in various venues such as PopMatters.com. She is a member of the National Book Critics Circle (NBCC), and writes fiction. Her turn-ons include new books and gelato, while her turn-offs are reality television and washing dishes. She can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it