The lines between fiction and truth are blurred, if not altogether imagined, in Katherine Taylor's first novel, "Rules For Saying Goodbye." To begin with, her narrator is an eponymous character, and it is evident that many of the details that support the novel's structure are drawn from her own life. This makes it difficult to dislike the character and simultaneously appreciate the author's wit.
The majority of New Yorkers in their 20s possess much less than a rent-controlled apartment on the Upper East Side, enough funds to enjoy the alcoholic delights of the classy bars, and a college education. Katherine has all this, as well as a hovering mother, a wonderful brother, faithful friends, and a talent for writing. The reader may very well be confused as to why Katherine so often finds herself on the wrong side of happiness.
The life she winds herself into is flashy, and though she mostly subsists on bartending gigs and the odd article, Katherine rubs shoulders with celebrities and dines (or rather, drinks) regularly at the Carlyle Hotel. She tries cocaine, throws up in taxis, makes a list of stars who don't tip (Madonna, Tobey Maguire, Barbra Streisand), throws dinner parties and smokes too many cigarettes. The lifestyle might scream adventure, youth, or experimentation to some, but for Katherine, it is compensation for a condition of barely disguised despair.
Much of the information that Taylor delivers in her narrative is deadpanned. Her sentences are succinct, but the content does not get lost in the brevity. This structure at times has the effect of creating mini stories unto themselves, packed as they are with a loaded lexicon that hints at numerous back-stories. Too often, this makes the pages feel like a collage of almost random snippets of Katherine's life and the bite-sized bits of wisdom are swallowed by the patchwork of events surrounding them.
Split into four parts, the junctures of the novel are separated by goodbyes. They are not departures from lovers, but from the rules?eleven to be precise?that Katherine gives for the end of a relationship. Most of them are manipulative, and fit with the pop culture generalization of how women deal with break-ups, namely with immaturity and the desire to make their lovers wish they were dead. A few are funny, but they do nothing to challenge the tired stereotypes that simultaneously characterize and discredit the significance of a relationship. The fact that Taylor does not do something different with her rules is surprising and a little confusing, considering that the end of the novel has Katherine rejecting the promised happy ending of marriage.
Some might characterize the tone of this novel as glib; Taylor is flippant with emotion and it is difficult to parse whether this is a tactic or the imprint of a novice. Her troubles often feel trivial in the grand scheme of things, but to classify them as such is to undermine the validity of her pain. It is tempting to organize suffering into a hierarchy of misery, when in fact, no one has a monopoly on the sentiment.
When read in this light, the off-handed dismissals and evenings steeped in booze diminish in their feeling of devil-may-care youth and begin to take on the tone of internal panic.
Katherine is stuck in an unfettered state of undirected life, and as the novel continues, the reader watches with her as her friends disappear into marriages or professions.
Had it been written differently, Katherine's inability to follow these predictable paths might read as a kind of wonderful limbo or rejection of the norm, but as this novel stands it is difficult to see the story as much more than the author getting Katherine out of her system.