BAD BEHAVIOR
The Book Club Archive
In our discussion of Bad Behavior by Mary Gaitskill, we unpacked its raw, unflinching examination of the complexities of human relationships. This collection of short stories navigates the charged spaces where intimacy, cruelty, and vulnerability intersect. Each narrative feels both meticulously crafted and disarmingly immediate, holding a quiet power in its ability to explore the messiness of desire and connection without judgment or sentimentality.
Gaitskill introduces us to characters who live on the fringes—not necessarily of society but of their own emotional lives. They are people who negotiate their relationships through glances, silences, and unspoken understandings. In her exploration of power, both overt and covert, Gaitskill strips away the veneer of politeness to reveal the tensions and hierarchies that often lie beneath. These stories don’t offer resolutions or moral clarity but instead create spaces where contradiction and ambiguity thrive.
What We Discussed
The conversation began with Gaitskill’s prose, which one member described as “disarmingly neutral.” Her writing doesn’t tell you how to feel; instead, it lays everything bare, letting the reader linger in the discomfort of what’s left unsaid. The group marveled at her ability to capture the rhythms of thought and speech—how her characters stumble, contradict themselves, or fall silent at critical moments. We talked about how this stylistic choice mirrors real life, where emotions often resist articulation, and connections are rarely as clean as we’d like them to be.
A recurring theme in our discussion was the interplay of power and vulnerability, particularly in the context of gender and desire. Gaitskill writes about sex in ways that are neither erotic nor clinical; instead, she captures the strange, often transactional ways people use it to assert control, seek validation, or bridge emotional chasms. One story that sparked intense conversation was “Secretary,” which follows a young woman whose professional relationship with her boss morphs into a troubling dynamic of dominance and submission. We debated whether the protagonist’s complicity undermines her agency—or whether Gaitskill is challenging us to rethink what agency even looks like.
The group also delved into the urban setting of the stories, particularly 1980s New York City. Gaitskill’s New York is not glamorous or even particularly gritty; it’s a backdrop for lives that feel transient, precarious, and disconnected. We reflected on how this sense of rootlessness informs the characters’ relationships, making them feel like fleeting transactions rather than lasting bonds. Yet, even in this impermanence, there is something achingly human—an attempt, however flawed, to connect.
Another layer of our discussion centered on Gaitskill’s treatment of morality. Her characters are not inherently good or bad; they are simply human, acting out of their desires, fears, and limitations. This refusal to moralize felt both liberating and uncomfortable, forcing us to confront our own biases and assumptions. One member remarked that reading Gaitskill feels like being caught in a moment of self-recognition—not necessarily flattering, but deeply true.
Critical Commentary
What makes Bad Behavior extraordinary is Gaitskill’s ability to write with emotional precision without ever feeling prescriptive. Her stories resist easy categorization; they are neither cautionary tales nor celebrations of transgression. Instead, they exist in a kind of liminal space, where the lines between right and wrong, love and power, vulnerability and control blur. Gaitskill captures the quiet violence of everyday interactions—the way a glance, a pause, or a single word can carry as much weight as a physical act.
The group also reflected on the collection’s portrayal of women, who are often caught in dynamics that feel deeply unequal yet strangely familiar. Gaitskill doesn’t reduce these characters to victims or heroines; instead, she shows them as complex, contradictory individuals navigating systems that both constrain and empower them. This refusal to simplify or resolve their stories felt deeply resonant, especially in the context of contemporary conversations about gender and agency.
Finally, we considered Gaitskill’s legacy as a writer. Her work, while often described as provocative, feels less about shock value and more about honesty. She writes about the things we often avoid—shame, discomfort, the ways we fail each other and ourselves—with a clarity that is both unsettling and profoundly moving. One member noted that Gaitskill’s stories feel timeless in their specificity, capturing universal truths through the lens of particular moments and places.
Why It Matters
Bad Behavior is not an easy book, but it’s an essential one. It challenges the reader to sit with discomfort, to confront the parts of themselves they might prefer to ignore, and to think critically about the ways power and intimacy shape their own lives. Gaitskill doesn’t offer solutions or reassurances; instead, she holds up a mirror and asks us to look closely at what we see.
In our discussion, we returned repeatedly to the idea of connection—not the neat, polished kind but the messy, fleeting moments that define us in their imperfection. Gaitskill captures these moments with an honesty that feels rare, even now, and her stories remind us of the complexity of being human.
If you’ve ever found yourself in the gray areas of life—those spaces where you’re not quite sure what you want or what you’re willing to give—then Bad Behavior will resonate with you. And if you’re looking for a community that engages with literature in this way—deeply, thoughtfully, and with an eye toward the unspoken—then we hope you’ll join us.
