Model Home: A Novel
Eric Puchner
Language: English
Pages: 384
ISBN: 0743270495
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Warren Ziller moved his family to Southern California in search of a charmed life, and to all appearances, he found it: a gated community not far from the beach, amid the affluent splendor of the 1980s. But the Zillers’ American dream is about to be rudely interrupted. Warren has squandered their savings on a bad real estate investment, which he conceals from his wife, Camille, who misreads his secrecy as a sign of an affair. Their children, Dustin, Lyle, and Jonas, have grown as distant as satellites, too busy with their own betrayals and rebellions to notice their parents’ distress. When tragedy strikes, the Zillers are forced to move to Warren’s abandoned housing development in the desert. In this comically bleak new home, each must reckon with what’s led them there and who’s to blame—and whether they can summon the forgiveness needed to hold the family together.
With penetrating insights into modern life and an uncanny eye for everyday absurdities, Eric Puchner delivers a wildly funny, heartbreaking, and thoroughly original portrait of an American family.
school. On the weekends, Camille would take the train down from Madison to see him and they’d walk the bitter streets together, huddled against the wind, the skyscrapers twinkling in the sun like swords. They were hopelessly, helplessly in love. He remembered sitting with her in the Amtrak station one Sunday afternoon, miserable at the thought of parting again even for a week, Camille crying into his parka as if she were leaving him forever. There was no question about her getting back: she had
caring or was too distracted to notice. Since he’d stopped seeing Taz, he’d been more out of it than usual. Warren felt bad for him, of course, but, selfishly, he couldn’t help thinking of it as a blessing, too: without Taz, he and Dustin had been spending more time together, sometimes even driving into town to grab lunch. He started to ask for a recommendation but Dustin hushed him, turning his attention to the TV. On the screen, a man with a blue-painted face was wrapping himself in dynamite;
as quarters. Soon the carpet was covered in records, a shimmering pond of vinyl. He walked onto the records, crunching them carefully with his boots, stepping in a freaky, robotic way as though he couldn’t bend his feet but had to rock inflexibly from heel to toe. “What the fuck are you doing?” Suzie asked. “Literally or metaphorically?” He peered around the room, as though surprised to find anyone there. “Literally I’m destroying all my records.” “What are you doing metaphorically?” “Wearing
the tape, a girl with a purple cast on her foot backed through the door on crutches. She pivoted around, surprising him with her beauty. Somehow, the cast and crutches made her seem even more beautiful. Instinctively, Dustin hid his face, pretending to count the money in the register. He could sense her glance at him absently before heading to New Releases. As often happened, Dustin’s brain split in two, aware of what he might have done before the accident. He might have recommended a movie: Repo
“Dumbed. To the kids’ level. We don’t want a repeat of last year.” There was an awkward silence. Several of the committee members glanced in Camille’s direction. Mikolaj leaned into the podium, narrowing his eyes. “You use this expression because I am Polish?” “No,” Rabbi Silverberg said. He looked stricken. “I wasn’t . . . I didn’t mean anything like that.” Mikolaj smiled, and Rabbi Silverberg flushed with relief. “I kid with you. You should see a mirror. Anyway, Polish people are dumb. They