Apparently, Colm Toibin's book New Ways to Kill Your Mother, published by Scribner this month, doesn’t provide any instruction on how to actually kill your mother. While this might be a grave disappointment to some, I’m inclined to smirk (with both glee and a bit of friendly mockery) at Toibin’s recommendation to put mom on ice—at least in fiction. Dwight Garner, reviewing the book for the NYTimes, explains: “His essential point, driven home in an essay about all the motherless heroes and heroines in the novels of Henry James and Jane Austen, is that ‘mothers get in the way of fiction; they take up the space that is better filled by indecision, by hope, by the slow growth of a personality.’”

Really, aren’t fiction mothers just a pain in the ass? If a novel has a mother in it, she’s usually too complicated and infuriating to develop in a half-assed way, and so the whole book ends up being about her. She’d just love that, wouldn’t she?

If you're a writer, you’re stuck having to acrobat around a reader’s wondering, “Where is the character’s mother? Does she know what her son’s doing?” every time you want a character to do something bad. Raskolnikov was gonna kill that landlady but then his mom came home. Groan. Guess he’ll never be friends with that prostitute.

Toibin points out that orphans are great characters in fiction, and really, how could they not be? Without all of that guidance, nourishment and guilt-mongering, orphans are free to find their own way in a world devoid of preconceived notions. Plus, devastation and an incurable longing are great ways to secure a far-reaching and easy sympathy from readers. Oh, the poor dear, that’s why this character’s acting up.

Still, I find this proposition of parentless fiction a little weird. Possibly indicative of a handful of bizarre psychological ramifications. Do we have a hard time imagining mothers without pillows clutched in their fists, coming to snuff us out? Do we really think that kids raised in two-parent households are so adjusted as to be boring? Are your parents making it hard for you to develop a personality or experience indecision and hope?

I love a little mom in my fiction. I say the more mothers, the better.

image: bbc.uk.co

The Hunger Games landed the number three spot on the recently released American Library Association’s Top Ten List of Most Frequently Challenged Books of 2011. Um, hello? Complainers? My mom totally just read that book. My mom.

Maybe you think I’m being cute with the whole hunger-kitchen-mom title, perhaps playing the ol' wink-and-nod game, hinting at literary depravity and motherhood, so let me just stop all this conjecture right here and now. I am quite serious. My mom totally read The Hunger Games in the kitchen this weekend. Plus, if I were to imply any wink-and-nod business, I’d sound kind of sexist. Hell, you’re probably the sexist one.

For those zealots who might not immediately understand the implications of "my mom," let me provide a brief characterization. Elementary school teacher for over thirty years. Hates peanut butter. Also hates movies. Hates violence probably more than she hates movies. A major player on the social justice scene, pathologically invested in a Minneapolis Peace Garden.

That’s right. A peacenik school teacher with an aversion to nuts. DevouredThe Hunger Games in one sitting.

But how does my mom reading The Hunger Games have anything to do with you? When I asked her why she’d purchased the book, she said, “There are just some things you do for popular culture.” I don’t understand what this means. Some things you just have to accept without too many questions (like hating peanut butter). The day before I found The Hunger Games in the kitchen, my mother said she was going to “the labyrinth” and when I asked what “the labyrinth” was she started explaining what a labyrinth is rather than provide any concrete information about a physical place. She’s never even done drugs. Why would I think questions are useful?

Nonetheless, I think it’s safe to assume the following:

Rather than that idiotic No Child Left Behind bullshit of constant standardized testing, schools will start requiring demonstrations of physical prowess. Childhood obesity solved.
Popular culture will dictate moral standards. Oh wait, it already does.
The generation of nimble children raised by obese adults will inevitably take over. Our National Anthem will be replaced by Miley Cyrus humming.
I will find a Japanese horror film to write as a novel and make one million dollars.
Everyone will write a novel with the word "Game" in the title and make one million dollars.

Image: hungergamesmovie.org