Casebook Hardcover - 2014

1 ​• ​Under the Bed

I was a snoop, but a peculiar kind. I only discovered what I most didn’t want to know.

The first time it happened, I was nine. I’d snaked underneath my parents’ bed when the room was empty to rig up a walkie-talkie. Then they strolled in and flopped down. So I was stuck. Under their bed. Until they got up.

I’d wanted to eavesdrop on her, not them. She decided my life. Just then, the moms were debating weeknight television. I needed, I believed I absolutely needed to understand Survivor. You had to, to talk to people at school. The moms yakked about it for hours in serious voices. The only thing I liked that my mother approved of that year was chess. And every other kid, every single other kid in fourth grade, owned a Game Boy. I thought maybe Charlie’s mom could talk sense to her. She listened to Charlie’s mom.

On top of the bed, my dad was saying that he didn’t think of her that way anymore either. What way? And why either? I could hardly breathe. The box spring made a gauzy opening to gray dust towers, in globular, fantastic formations. The sound of dribbling somewhere came in through open windows. My dad stood and locked the door from inside, shoving a chair up under the knob. Before, when he did that, I’d always been on the other side. Where I belonged. And it hurt not to move.

“Down,” my mother said. “Left.” Which meant he was rubbing her back.

All my life, I’d been aware of him wanting something from her. And of her going sideways in his spotlight, a deer at the sight of a human. The three of us, the originals, were together locked in a room.

My mom was nice enough looking, for a smart woman. “Pretty for a mathematician,” I’d heard her once say about herself, with an air of apology. Small, with glasses, she was the kind of person you didn’t notice. I’d seen pictures, though, of her holding me as a baby. Then, her hair fell over her cheek and she’d been pretty. My dad was always handsome. Simon’s mom, a jealous type, said that my mother had the best husband, the best job, the best everything. I thought she had the best everything, too. We did. But Simon’s mom never said my mother had the best son.

The bed went quiet and it seemed then that both my parents were falling asleep. My dad napped weekends.

NOOO, I begged telepathically, my left leg pinned and needled.

Plus I really had to pee.

But my mother, never one to let something go when she could pick it apart, asked if he was attracted to other people. He said he hadn’t ever been, but lately, for the first time, he felt aware of opportunities. He used that word.

“Like who?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. I knew my dad: he was about to blab and I couldn’t stop him. And sure enough, idiotically, he named a name. By second grade everyone I knew had understood never to name a name.

“Holland Emerson,” he said. What kind of name was that? Was she Dutch?

“Oh,” the Mims said. “You’ve always kind of liked her.”

“I guess so,” he said, as if he hadn’t thought of it until she told him.

Then the mattress dipped, like a whale, to squash me, and I scooched over to the other side as the undulation rolled.

“I didn’t do anything, Reen!”

She got up. Then I heard him follow her out of the room.

“I’m not going to do anything! You know me!”

But he’d started it. He’d said opportunities. He’d named a name. I bellied out, skidded to the bathroom, missing the toilet by a blurt. A framed picture of them taken after he’d proposed hung on the wall; her holding the four-inch diamond ring from the party-supply shop. On the silvery photograph, he’d written I promise to always make you unhappy.

I’d grown up with his jokes.

By the time I sluffed to the kitchen he sat eating a bowl of Special K. He lifted the box. “Want some?”

“Don’t fill up.” She stood next to the wall phone. “We’re having the Audreys for dinner.”

“Tonight?” he said. “Can we cancel? I think I’m coming down with something.”

“We canceled them twice already.”

The doorbell rang. It was the dork guy who came to run whenever she called him. He worked for the National Science Foundation and liked to run and talk about pattern formation.

 “Singular and haunting . . . filled with the quirky and succinct descriptions for which Simpson’s writing is justly celebrated . . . Her verbs are delicious. . . . It’s like watching those small revolving dashes of rainbow-colored light caused by a crystal hung in a window.”—Julia Keller, NPR
 
“Casebook displays Simpson’s signature impressionism. Think Seurat’s pointillist dots rather than Van Gogh’s lavish strokes. Miles’s world is made of tiny scenes, images, anecdotes—collage-like but easy to follow. Fans of Simpson’s My Hollywood will appreciate the thematic kinship, comedy, aphoristic observations and the unflinching look at the effects of divorce. Casebook tackles heavy themes, but with a touch lighter than her early novels—easier to digest, charming, sure-footed and as engaging as ever.”—Josh Cook, Star/Tribune

"Simpson's story unfolds with magnetic force. . . . She handles the passage of Miles's crucial years through and beyond high school, including awkward relationships with two girls, with finesse. From beginning to end, it's clear that in everything he does, Miles loves his mother. His indisputable, powerful, and consistent filial love gives 'Casebook' enormous emotional power and makes the surprise ending a heart-breaker."--Jane Ciabattari, The Boston Globe
 
"Adult relationships are the true mystery here. Simpson manipulates the tropes of suspense fiction astutely, and the touches of noir are delicate. "--The New Yorker

“Captivating . . . Simpson’s aim is to lyrically capture the time between childhood and adulthood, as fleeting and delicate as the golden-hour light that filmmakers chase.”—Lisa Zeidner, The Washington Post
 
“Just as in Anywhere But Here, Simpson’s central, complicated relationship of parent and child is both a motif and a window into bared hearts . . . She has a gift for re-creating the unique psychological landscape of the adolescent . . . Miles is an extraordinary character—exceptionally intuitive, observant, feeling.”—Susannah Luthi, Los Angeles Review of Books

“What’s most remarkable is how Simpson effortlessly snares readers inside a full, intimate world. . . . And for a few delicious days allows readers to relish the innocence of childhood and the intense yearning to discover the secrets of life.”—Christine Thomas, The Miami Herald

“Miles Adler-Hart is a teen with a mission: He’s trying to understand his mom. Not because she’s a big-deal mathematician but because by understanding her, he might fathom love, sex, and how his parents’ marriage fell
apart. . . . Simpson’s beautifully crafted novel shows us a reconfigured California family through the eyes of a smart, funny adolescent longing to keep hope alive.”
—Anne Leslie, People Magazine
 
“A wonderfully dramatic vantage point for us readers, a fresh way to explore the ways families fall apart and come together. . . . Casebook surprises us with its discoveries and offers up a reminder that despite troubles and disappointments, confusion and heartbreak, life can be sweet.”—Natalie Serber, The Oregonian
 
“Simpson is . . . adept at capturing the world of moneyed life in a California beach town once there is less of it and the uncertainty of children navigating the new rules of divorce. . . . Happiness, and its elusiveness is a running theme throughout the novel. Miles tries to define it, as if by pinning it down, he might be able to secure more of for his mom.”—Yvonne Zipp, Christian Science Monitor 

 
“The heart of the book is simply the story of an emotional coming-of-age.  Simpson’s novel is at its strongest in the quiet, unadorned gray areas where Miles’s childhood neuroses and tender loving impulses for his family mingle painfully with his desire to face up to the truth. . . . It’s the poignancy of a child coming to terms with the irreversible losses and ill-judged compromises of adult life that gives emotional weight to the narrative.”—Claire Fallon, The Huffington Post
 
“Casebook is both a detective story and a coming-of-age novel—a hybrid of Harriet the Spy and Chandler’s Phillip Marlow books.”—Darcy Steinke, The Los Angeles Times

“If Casebook were a box of cereal, there would be dozens of raisins in every spoonful. Yes, the novel itself has a satisfying arc, but I love it most for the small rewards and humorous touches that Simpson doles out on nearly every page.”—Jim Higgins, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
 
“Any person who grew up in a family being slowly torn apart by their parents’ crumbling marriage will instantly relate to Miles Adler-Rich’s attempt to understand why things are falling apart. Casebook will even find a way to sink its hooks into readers who haven’t had to experience that.”—Jason Diamond, Flavorwire

Advance Praise for Mona Simpson’s CASEBOOK
 
“Ensnaring, witty, and perceptive . . . This exceptionally incisive, fine–tuned and charming novel unfolds gracefully as [Simpson] brings fresh understanding and keen humor to the complexities intrinsic to each stage of life and love.”––Donna Seaman, Booklist (starred review)
 
“This is a story about a son’s love for his mother, and Simpson’s portrayal of utter loyalty is infectious.”––Publishers Weekly (starred review)
 
“The setup is ingenious . . . A child of divorce turns private-eye in the latest well-observed study of domestic dysfunction from Simpson . . . a top-shelf novelist . . . The new book is framed as a detective story about discovering the deceptions that can swirl around relationships.”—Kirkus Reviews
 
“In this sensitively rendered bildungsroman, Simpson recalls authentic, detailed memories of childhood . . . [A] clever, insightful, and at times hilarious story about family, friendship, and love in all its complex iterations.”––Library Journal

Mona Simpson is the author of Anywhere But Here, The Lost Father, A Regular Guy, Off Keck Road, and My Hollywood. Off Keck Road was a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award and won the Heartland Prize fromof the Chicago Tribune. She has received a Whiting Writers' Award, a Guggenheim grant, a Lila Wallace--Reader's Digest Writers'' Award, and, recently, an Academy Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. Simpson is on the faculty at UCLA and also teaches at Bard College.