Seeking your obsession: a "Tangerine" review
I'm not sure where I first saw Christine Mangan's Tangerine. It could've been anywhere: Goodreads, People magazine, the new books shelf at the library. But I was captivated by the cover, a black-and-white photograph from the 1950's where a woman covers her eyes from the burning sun. Combined with the blue and green color palette, the package design struck me, as did the synopsis. A journey to Morocco where two college roommates reunite, sinister consequences unfolding afterward? Sounded intriguing...and definitely gay. As a gay man, I want all the remotely-sounding queer lit I can get, so this remained on my radar for quite a bit.
After I found it at a used book nook in the library close to my college, I took my chance despite the middling reviews on Goodreads and elsewhere. Earbuds on in the morning, book out near the end, what did I find in Tangerine?
A good book, I would say. Mangan has written a compelling noir thriller that feels like a dangerously humid day at its most potent. This debut takes a scintillating look at two women and their lives, folding back the layers bit by bit until we know each contour. It's scary and concerning, watching one women bow beneath the weight of one so clearly in control of her life, past and present. The fallout is just as tragic. Tangier's fight for independence in 1956 makes an interesting backdrop, vivid despite its lack of focus. The greatest downsides to this novel, however, definitely affected my enjoyment. The plot isn't anything new to the genre, and it's easy to figure out where the story is going just from the flap copy and first few chapters. One protagonist veers far enough into problematic caricature that she can't really be redeemed after that, despite her likability. Regardless, Tangerine is a quick and enjoyable read, perfect for the beach or the bath.
Alice Shipley doesn't go out much. She and her husband, after a whirlwind meeting that led to marriage, live in Tangier, Morocco, a bustling seaside town she can't stand to explore. Something about the people, the heat, scare her, and she spends day after day pacing the course of her living room, John, her husband, taking advantage of what's left of the allowance from her aunt. As long as she forgets what happened in Vermont, everything will be fine. But the memory still lingers, especially when her roommate from college in Vermont, Lucy, shows up on her doorstep.
Lucy has finally arrived after almost losing hope. Succumbing to the mechanical whims of New York City before discovering Alice's whereabouts, she's excited to see her after so much time has passed. But things have changed, she notices. Alice doesn't quite look her in the eye. John is an especially cruel husband. His gaze lingers on another woman. And there's a man that seems to be watching her, someone who feels like she could be right at home within the depths of the city.
Before long, both Alice and Lucy are caught in a web of reminiscing, although their memories are very different. Although their initial life at Bennington College was idyllic, it all changed once Alice fell in love. Alice finds herself trapped like that previous year, like Lucy is pinning her beneath a tack, waiting to see her break. Lucy feels like Alice doesn't return the ferocity of the relationship that she wants. Alice remembers the grief she felt like the time her parents died. Lucy believes the sacrifice was necessary. As tension snaps and results in dastardly plans, who will win in this psychological war?
The biggest critique I have for this book would definitely be its predictability. Reading the synopsis makes it very clear what's being set up. You know what happens to John, and you know who's responsible. But it's clear to me that Mangan meant for this to be a character study and not a mystery. Alice and Lucy are both captivating voices, Lucy more at the start and Alice near the end. Alice's fear and Lucy's watchful eye are captured in writing that, although telling a lot, leaves enough to be shown. Their perspectives are unique enough in their memories and perception that leave no confusion on who's who, and each emotion, fury and grief and clarity, are clear and laid bare with few redundancies. As one gains the upper hand, and the other is left to tremble in their wake, it's frightening how much the story shifts into a tragedy, one where taking advantage wins, leaving the other completely destroyed. It's painful and unfair, but Mangan reveals that perhaps the ultimate con may give this character the chance they never had at the sacrifice of the life of the girl she once loved.
However, this comes at the expense of Tangier. Tangier is a rich environment, Mangan articulating the vibe of the place and the restlessness of the people who want their independence well. However, outside of the humidity and seedy bars and chaos bubbling beneath the surface, the reader doesn't get a full picture of what Tangier is actually like. Perhaps when this movie gets produced (please cast Florence Pugh as Alice, execs), the audience will get to see more of Tangier and see how it affects the characters, not just hear about it.
Additionally, Lucy's characterization is problematic. Her entire character revolves around Alice. She's a devoted friend until it bubbles over, not wanting anyone else near her. A man can't come between them; she's the only one for her. It veers into possessive lesbian stereotyping, and it's unfortunate to have a protagonist behave this way in a 2018 release, even despite its historical setting and behavioral differences in that time period (it may explain how most of the descriptions of Moroccan civilians are written). It's queer rep, but queer rep that feels dated. Regardless, it's there, and although Lucy uses it as a weapon, it's interesting to see how far her infatuation goes, how much she'll do to make Alice hers at the sake of Alice's happiness.
Regardless of all that I mentioned above, Tangerine is a solid adult thriller big on the pulp and drama and ripe with characterization. Mangan navigates the choppy waters of womanhood and deceit with ease, and as nails get bitten off, the tension keeps escalating. It makes a solid book to shove in your beach bag, and there's a lot to discuss despite its set-up and execution.