We Wish You a Dysfunctional Christmas

Perhaps, as the 20th century draws to a close, the quest for identity is best fulfilled not by finding a coherent sense of self but by discovering that everyone else is just as dysfunctional as you are--and that it's okay.

Mark O'Donnell's new novel, Let Nothing You Dismay, recounts a day in the life of Tad Leary, a 34-year-old New Yorker poised to do battle with a day of Christmas parties that force him to con-front every group of significant people in his life. On Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve (Tad and his brother's childhood way of marking the days till Christmas), Tad has just been fired from his job at an elementary school and is about to be booted out of his apartment. He navigates his way through family, a friend's performance-art show, his ex-girlfriend's family, the parent-teacher party at the school where he used to work and a ritzy soiree of uptown socialites, hosted by a man with whom he once had a one-night stand.

Tad is a bundle of perpetual uncertainty and self-doubt, constantly feeling inferior due to his baby-face and five-foot-one stature yet blessed with keen insight and a genuine zest for life, a man who "loved life's details, relished even its absurdities, delighted in the oddity of human and animal culture, but simultaneously dreaded living." O'Donnell skillfully captures the post-modern existential plight: how to find yourself amidst confusion and chaos, how to live life in a way that is worth living. He writes with an original, sharp wit, turning no end of cleverly constructed phrases. He puts his finger precisely on the pulse of the genre of quirky observation that made Seinfeld so loved: that there is much wisdom and even love to be found in the seemingly innocuous tread of daily life.

O'Donnell's touch is gentle. He does not allow his narrative to slide into cliches, a balancing act hard to achieve when commenting on commericalized topics. This is perhaps most evident in his treatment of Christmas, a holiday so over-wrought with symbolism that any statement can seem trite. O'Donnell couples Tad's cynicism and mocking attitude with an underlying sense of hope and faith in the holiday. Tad is aware of the fake forms Christmas can take on; upon walking into his brother and sister-in-law's showcase of a home, he observes that "the impersonally tasteful X'mas tree Bonny had set up was an X'mas tree, not a Christmas tree."

While Tad has a healthy irreverence, guarding against the dead-end path of taking life too seriously, he maintains respect and love for the parts of Christmas that are genuine. He thinks fondly of "the tarnished diversity of ornaments Dad and Mom hauled down annually from the Waterville attic," musing that "Christmas ornaments are as close as most regular families ever get to an art collection." Underneath his jaded perspective lies a search for what is real, for what he can cling to.

O'Donnell is honest, refusing to shy away from dialogue that deals frankly with life's more complex matters, subjects many writers choose to couch in politically correct catch-phrases. Tad's sexuality is at the heart of his existential quest and confusion. He is gay, yet he confesses to his brother: "For some reason, lately, I'm not even sure I actually am gay--most men are disgusting, and self-absorbed! I admire women, but somehow I'm not ready." His brother responds by telling him that "you are more confused than an anal-retentive anarchist. You're thirty-four and think maybe you're still just afraid of girls?" Such statements are conceptions of homosexuality that are not only outdated but offensive in their view that gay men are simply "afraid" of women, implying that homo-sexuality is not a viable, fulfilling expression of one's sexuality.

However, O'Donnell is not trying to be stereotypical or discriminating but to address the lingering prejudice and intolerance that are firmly entrenched in society. These are captured by Tad's mother's attempted reassurance when he comes out to her, "I love you in spite of that." While ostensibly accepting and tolerant, this sentiment denigrates Tad in suggesting that his homosexuality is a burden, a blemish that must be overcome. In his dissection of such phrases considered, by and large, to be socially acceptable, O'Donnell forces the reader to examine the reality behind the facade.

Although O'Donnell addresses serious issues and makes profound points, he does not lose sight of the fact that his quirky, off-beat style always teeters on the absurd and surreal. He is able to make fun of himself and his genre, which keeps him from becoming pretentious or sounding insincere. This is most artfully done when Tad watches his friend's ludicrous performance-art piece. His friend sits, mostly naked, in a bathtub, talking about how alone he is and how his parents "never took me to Disneyland!" and finishes the piece by cutting his wrists, which he immediately bandages. The performance leaves Tad "irritated," somewhat scornful of such observations that pose at being deep but wind up being simply dumb. This is O'Donnell's recognition that the style he himself is using can deteriorate into empty words if taken to an unmitigated extreme.

When Tad wakes up on "Christmas Eve Eve Eve...more alive than dead," the arrival at renewed faith in life is genuine, not merely a convenient, uplifting message. The reader feels as though O'Donnell has provided proof that in being dysfunctional may lie the only hope for self-awareness and connection to life and love. If being dysfunctional means going through life as Tad does with "joyous difficulty," then there is hope for true understanding, acceptance of life's absurdities as well as promise.