Review: Thief by Maureen Gibbon

Sarah Crichton Books, April 2010

By Maurene Goo
Published: April 27th, 2010 | 12:00am

Although word on the street is that Maureen Gibbon is a modern-day Kate Chopin—the only similarity I could glean between the two writers is the literal shared element of water. In Thief, Gibbon’s protagonist Suzanne (sans last name) finds solace in long summer swims in a Minnesota lake. In Chopin’s seminal work, The Awakening, her protagonist Edna Pontellier discovers her independence during a sultry summer spent swimming with a man who is not her husband. And there ends the similarities. The Awakening was a literary feminist tour de force of its time—exploring the repression of women trapped in the social mores of the 1800s. Thief uses the word “cock” a lot.

The book opens with Suzanne beginning a summer spent isolated in a lakeside cabin. We learn early on that Suzanne was raped as a teenager, setting the dysfunctional tone for her current adult relationships. In some perverse coincidence, when Suzanne puts out an ad for a man, the only response that resonates with her is from a prison inmate. Who is in jail for rape. Her attraction to the now-repentant and gentle ex-rapist is only the beginning of Suzanne’s journey to “self-discovery.”

While Gibbon’s renderings of Suzanne’s rape are unflinching and revealing, the reader is left completely disappointed by Suzanne’s lack of any real enlightenment. She clearly struggles to understand herself as an innocent victim. Because she agreed to go on a date with an older man the night it happened, Suzanne can’t shake off the feeling that she deserved it, even as an adult. It all plays out like a bad Lifetime made-for-TV movie. In fact, I was envisioning Tori Spelling while reading the entire book.

It’s hard to sympathize with Suzanne even when we know she is royally fucked up due to horrible circumstances beyond her control. Gibbon’s intent may have been to reveal Suzanne as an honest portrayal of a vulnerable and damaged woman, but instead she comes off as self-absorbed and maddeningly obtuse. She learns nothing, and her gratuitous sexual forays with both the inmate and a dum-dum cowboy leaves the reader completely cold as her fixation with her own sexuality quickly grows tiresome.

The most genuine and engaging parts of the book have no blatant relation to Suzanne's rape. Descriptions of her peaceful swims in the lake and her interactions with her elderly neighbor Merle translate as honest and potentially quite interesting. Gibbon’s writing is strongest when Suzanne notices the quiet moments—a snake passing through her kitchen, some old vintage photographs. As a book about a rape victim grappling with the emotional repercussions, Thief doesn’t offer much depth, or even a juicy dose of drama.