3 Stars
Ann moves
to Idaho and takes a job teaching music at a small school. She eventually marries Wade whose family (ex-wife
Jenny and daughters June and May) experienced unimaginable violence and
loss. When they marry, Wade is already
showing signs of early-onset dementia which has plagued the men in his family
for several generations. Ann tries to
provide stability for her husband as she also tries to understand the why of
the tragedy.
The
narrative is non-linear. The story moves
from past to present and back again. Since
the novel examines the fragility of memory, this fragmented structure is
appropriate since memories move back and forth through time. The point of view also shifts as the reader
is given the perspective of several characters, including Ann, Wade, Jenny,
Jenny’s friend Elizabeth, May, and even a hound dog. At the end of the novel, however, there is no
total clarity; this too is realistic because life does not provide pat
answers. Not everything can be
understood.
Ann tries
to piece together what caused the family tragedy. She has only newspaper records and Wade’s
sporadic recollections. He rarely speaks
of what happened and she doesn’t push him because “Sometimes the memory, like a
sudden blade itself, is so sharp and present he believes it happened yesterday.” Ann speculates that Wade has forgotten his
loss though the sadness remains: “It’s
the texture of his memories, not the feeling, that is gone.”
Though an
act of violence reverberates throughout the novel, the novel is very slow
paced. At times it is too slow. I also found myself wondering what the point
of certain sections was. For example,
what is the purpose of the perspective of a bloodhound? What is the point of so much detail about
Elizabeth’s friendship with Sylvia, Jenny’s precursor? Is it really necessary to learn about the
adult life of one of Ann’s students? Perhaps
my analytical skills need some honing.
I’m certain
readers will comment on the lyrical quality of the diction. Unfortunately, I found myself growing bored
with the effusive, dreamy quality to the language. Here’s a lengthy passage from the dog’s
perspective: “He bores this tunnel
through the thicket of smells, the bear a week ago, musk trapped in the mats of
his fur broken open by the trunk he rubbed against, the pine whose bark a day
ago was peeled off by sour teeth smelling of digested grass and fear and even
stone, thrown fragments of foam from being startled, rabbits, too; he smells
the newborn rabbits underground, where the afterbirth has dried in the eroded
dirty fur, some just born, some old enough to have returned wounded, the blood
already licked up off the pine needles by coyote tongues rancid and smelling of
starvation, or other dogs, not on a hunt, but with hay in their fur and the
insides of houses, digging halfheartedly with their pungent snouts in piles of
scat sweetened and bittered by post-frost elderberries the bears eat to sizzle
and slime the tapeworms out of their intestines.” It feels sometimes as if there is more style
than substance.
On the plus
side, there is the characterization. The
main characters are complex and realistic.
All have flaws. Except for one
major exception, the motivations of the characters are clear and
understandable. The characters are also
dynamic; they change in a credible way.
Personal growth is most clearly shown in Ann and Jenny.
Though I
sometimes felt this book was beyond my complete understanding, it has its
strengths. It will definitely appeal to
people who prefer character-driven novels and who enjoy lyrical language.
Note: I received an ARC of this book from the
publisher via NetGalley.
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