Lionel Shriver is a woman writer in her late 60s who has written 17 novels as of today's date, only 7 or so of which have been published. Her breakout hit in 2005 was We Need to Talk About Kevin, the story of an ambivalent mother who ends up birthing and raising a monstrous school shooter. The novel was later turned into a film (that was in my opinion poorly executed and not all that well-acted) with Tilda Swinton playing the mother. Shriver is a fiercely opinionated writer of eclectic interests and her novels and stories deal with everything from morbid obesity to childlessness to immigration. She currently resides with her husband in Portugal.
The Mandibles: A Family 2029-2047 was published in 2016 and is a scathing satire of current events. The Mandibles is about one extended family's journey through the collapse of the American petrodollar and how they adjust (or do not manage to adjust) to reduced living circumstances. Various family members in the Mandible clan are counting on inherited wealth via the death of their old grandpa when the rug is pulled out from underneath the American economy in the fateful year 2029, 100 years later than the Great Crash of 1929 that set off the Great Depression. The dollar, now worthless, is replaced by a currency called the bancor from which Americans are vengefully excluded. Inflation and money printing leads regular Americans down the garden path trod by Weimar Germans and millennial Argentinians. Some of the Mandibles adapt better than others, and possibly the most fascinating aspect of this book and why it stood out in my mind is because it went into florid detail about how being used to Starbucks and premium olive oil is a legitimate form of mental/spiritual handicap. This handicap is only exposed when there is a return to the kind of harsh living conditions our ancestors considered everyday.

The Mandibles opening chapter is called GRAY WATER, and its opening scene features the Mandible's matriarch, Florence, admonishing her common law husband, Esteban, to only wash his hands in water that is not fit for drinking but is not yet condemned to being flushed down the drain. Though she grew up in privilege, Florence's background reveals that she has settled into the lower middle working class. She and her mate, Esteban, make lighthearted jokes about the predicament of bathing once or fewer times per week in cold water and humbly appreciate their simple family meals of cabbage and scrap pork patties. Esteban is Latino or Lat, specifically Mexican, and some of this chapter is devoted to highlighting his resilience and general happiness because he never had the impedances of extreme privilege, including immersion in pornography as a young man, so he still has a "taste for real women". Florence does not consider herself to be anything special. She has a job at a homeless shelter that she knows others view her as angelic or virtuous for doing, but she sees it for what it is and rejects any kind of savior complex about it. It's work. She has a son, Will, from a one night stand (not Esteban) who is precociously bright. Her sister, Avery, is briefly introduced in this chapter. Avery is affluent and beautiful and has married extremely well to a professor at Georgetown University. We will learn more about her in Chapter 2.
Esteban and Florence discuss the impending death of Florence's and Avery's super-rich grandfather, and though he is in his 90s, she doesn't want to contemplate coming into that money because her parents would have to die before it became hers. In the background, Will (the son, whose name is Will but for some odd reason is called Willing, and that's not the end of strange first names in this book) watches the dollar collapse even more than its current lackluster status and tries to wrap his young brain around the significance of a reserve currency. The moment is described as if looking into a time capsule, a formative "Where were you?" tantamount to the bombing of the World Trade Center or the JFK shooting.
I remember where I was on September 11, 2001. I was 28, married, and living with my husband in my parents' house in my childhood bedroom, which would be the first of several stints in and out of their home. My dreams of being affluent as a married person were well on their way to being irrevocably dashed, but I did not know it at the time. September 11, 2001 was a beautiful day of cerulean skies and warm autumn breezes. How sad that our government decided to psy op its own people on the most perfect day ever. I ended up taking the day off even though I had a full day of lessons scheduled the nearby music store where I was teaching.
This chapter is at its most awkward when dealing with Esteban, who is portrayed as a lower middle class Marty Stu -- he's a bit too idealized and perfect to come off as a real person. The other characters, including the unfortunately named Willing, seem like they exist somewhere. This idea of water rationing in 2029 Brooklyn seems hyperbolic, though I should probably not say that considering the way things are going. Overall, the Mandibles is a good read because unlike other dystopian novels, it seems like something that could totally happen.
The Mandibles: A Family 2029-2047 was published in 2016 and is a scathing satire of current events. The Mandibles is about one extended family's journey through the collapse of the American petrodollar and how they adjust (or do not manage to adjust) to reduced living circumstances. Various family members in the Mandible clan are counting on inherited wealth via the death of their old grandpa when the rug is pulled out from underneath the American economy in the fateful year 2029, 100 years later than the Great Crash of 1929 that set off the Great Depression. The dollar, now worthless, is replaced by a currency called the bancor from which Americans are vengefully excluded. Inflation and money printing leads regular Americans down the garden path trod by Weimar Germans and millennial Argentinians. Some of the Mandibles adapt better than others, and possibly the most fascinating aspect of this book and why it stood out in my mind is because it went into florid detail about how being used to Starbucks and premium olive oil is a legitimate form of mental/spiritual handicap. This handicap is only exposed when there is a return to the kind of harsh living conditions our ancestors considered everyday.

The Mandibles opening chapter is called GRAY WATER, and its opening scene features the Mandible's matriarch, Florence, admonishing her common law husband, Esteban, to only wash his hands in water that is not fit for drinking but is not yet condemned to being flushed down the drain. Though she grew up in privilege, Florence's background reveals that she has settled into the lower middle working class. She and her mate, Esteban, make lighthearted jokes about the predicament of bathing once or fewer times per week in cold water and humbly appreciate their simple family meals of cabbage and scrap pork patties. Esteban is Latino or Lat, specifically Mexican, and some of this chapter is devoted to highlighting his resilience and general happiness because he never had the impedances of extreme privilege, including immersion in pornography as a young man, so he still has a "taste for real women". Florence does not consider herself to be anything special. She has a job at a homeless shelter that she knows others view her as angelic or virtuous for doing, but she sees it for what it is and rejects any kind of savior complex about it. It's work. She has a son, Will, from a one night stand (not Esteban) who is precociously bright. Her sister, Avery, is briefly introduced in this chapter. Avery is affluent and beautiful and has married extremely well to a professor at Georgetown University. We will learn more about her in Chapter 2.
Esteban and Florence discuss the impending death of Florence's and Avery's super-rich grandfather, and though he is in his 90s, she doesn't want to contemplate coming into that money because her parents would have to die before it became hers. In the background, Will (the son, whose name is Will but for some odd reason is called Willing, and that's not the end of strange first names in this book) watches the dollar collapse even more than its current lackluster status and tries to wrap his young brain around the significance of a reserve currency. The moment is described as if looking into a time capsule, a formative "Where were you?" tantamount to the bombing of the World Trade Center or the JFK shooting.
I remember where I was on September 11, 2001. I was 28, married, and living with my husband in my parents' house in my childhood bedroom, which would be the first of several stints in and out of their home. My dreams of being affluent as a married person were well on their way to being irrevocably dashed, but I did not know it at the time. September 11, 2001 was a beautiful day of cerulean skies and warm autumn breezes. How sad that our government decided to psy op its own people on the most perfect day ever. I ended up taking the day off even though I had a full day of lessons scheduled the nearby music store where I was teaching.
This chapter is at its most awkward when dealing with Esteban, who is portrayed as a lower middle class Marty Stu -- he's a bit too idealized and perfect to come off as a real person. The other characters, including the unfortunately named Willing, seem like they exist somewhere. This idea of water rationing in 2029 Brooklyn seems hyperbolic, though I should probably not say that considering the way things are going. Overall, the Mandibles is a good read because unlike other dystopian novels, it seems like something that could totally happen.
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Date: 2026-04-28 06:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-04-29 06:43 pm (UTC)Not sure why Florence Mandible is considered the matriarch of the Mandible family rather than the matriarch of the [Esteban's surname] family.