Review of Banal Nightmare by Halle Butler – Witty Millennial Angst

Halle Butler is widely recognized as one of the wittiest and most perceptive novelists capturing the uncertainties and struggles of the millennial generation. In her debut novels, “Jillian” (2015) and “The New Me” (2019), she exhibited a sharply tuned awareness of both emotional and economic vulnerabilities. Her protagonists, Megan (24) and Millie (30), navigate unfulfilling jobs and frustrating colleagues with a facade of anxious agreeability. Despite their efforts, they find no professional advancement and their acute self-awareness does little to alleviate their dissatisfaction, contrasting starkly with characters such as Jillian, a single parent in her mid-30s who finds solace in mantras.

While contemporary novelists like Patricia Lockwood, Ben Lerner, and Sally Rooney have trended towards sincerity as they matured, Butler takes a divergent path in her third novel. The central character of “Banal Nightmare,” Moddie, shares Jillian’s age but has shrugged off nearly all obligations. She breaks up with her artist boyfriend, Nick, after a brief affair with a colleague and leaves a potentially fulfilling job as a grant writer for a Chicago arts charity. Moddie relocates to her hometown, X, where she reconnects with friends who now work at the university with varying degrees of self-satisfied angst.

The arrival of a mysterious older visiting artist becomes a catalyst for awkward reunions and revealing conversations among Moddie and her friends. Butler’s prose shines with its blend of deadpan summary and vivid, hyper-articulate observation. For example, describing a mundane scene, Butler writes: “They sat on the couch for about an hour, going over current events and personal experiences,” while a more complex scene is depicted as: “The building’s entrance looked like vagina dentata and the lobby looked like if a German Expressionist set designer had used the inside of a Norelco razor as inspiration for a new opera where all the characters were maybe supposed to be Hitler.”

Socially, Moddie is often the voice of dissent, expressing distaste for NPR and criticizing Ruth Bader Ginsburg, leading others to label her as “crazy.” This dynamic mirrors much autofiction and the “sad girl” trope, wherein the protagonist’s mild nonconformity met with disproportionate disapproval. Initially, “Banal Nightmare” appears to establish a familiar framework, contrasting Moddie’s urbane awareness against the suburban middlebrow’s reactions.

Butler complicates this narrative as the story unfolds. Moddie reveals to her friend Bethany that she was recently a victim of predatory behavior by someone she trusted. This frank conversation marks a notable departure from the tone of Butler’s earlier works. It’s the first instance where a protagonist openly addresses her emotions, leading Moddie to a job offer from Bethany, who holds a position of power at the university after a sexual abuse scandal. Moddie’s moment of honesty alters her self-perception, prompting her to call her mom and declare she is no longer a “liar, a reject, or a fuckup.”

“Banal Nightmare” navigates through multiple perspectives, offering memorable moments from the private fantasies of peripheral characters. A biology professor, Craig, fantasizes about sex with his intern, while a literature professor, Peter, dreams of delivering a lecture on Hollywood’s fascist origins. The character Kimberly, the most airless and sexless, imagines writing a dreadful lyric essay about Moddie, whom she resents as a “privileged interloping bitch.” These inner monologues enrich the narrative texture and reveal deeper layers of each character.

As the story nears its conclusion, an email from Moddie’s father unveils significant information about her financial status, recasting her move to X in a new light. Butler’s sophisticated, ambivalent satire subtly critiques millennial fiction’s penchant for highlighting sincere self-expression while overlooking economic realities. The final twist leaves readers considering that Kimberly, despite her insufferable sincerity, might actually have a valid point.

Source: The Guardian