This title
came to my attention when it appeared on the longlist of the 2018 Women’s Prize
for Fiction. It offers an interesting
retelling of the famous August 4, 1892 double murders for which Lizzie Borden
was tried but acquitted.
The author’s
re-imagining focuses on the events of August 3 – August 6 as narrated by four
first-person narrators: 32-year-old Lizzie;
Emma, Lizzie’s 42-year-old sister; Bridget, the Borden family maid; and
Benjamin, a man hired by John Morse, the girl’s maternal uncle, who witnesses
some of the events at the Borden home.
To call the
Borden household dysfunctional is almost an understatement. Abby, the girls’ stepmother and the first
victim, has a rancorous relationship with her step-daughters who have never fully
accepted her as a mother. Andrew, the
girls’ father and the second victim, is overbearing, mean-spirited, critical,
and miserly. The marriage does not seem
especially happy; Lizzie mentions that “[Father and Mrs. Borden] did that from
time to time, their being friendly and pleasant to one another.” Lizzie is a selfish, manipulative
attention-seeker, whereas Emma resents her father’s favouritism towards Lizzie
and living “with a sibling who would never give me up.” Uncle John, whom everyone seems to dislike, seems
overly interested in the family money and “had a strange way with [Lizzie], all
that holding and stroking.” Even Bridget
is unhappy, longing to return to her family in Ireland.
The house
is full of simmering resentments and frustrations. Lizzie wants to go on another European grand
tour, and Emma wants a life that will “take me away from the family, from
Father. . . . having to abide by what they wanted versus what I wanted.” Bridget
saves her money so she can go home but Abby always manipulates her into
staying; when she tells Abby her intention, Mrs. Borden’s response is
telling: “’You shouldn’t be allowed to
just leave!’ she bellowed, she wailed.”
At one
point, Bridget says, “’This place is no good.’”
And, indeed, the house itself, which is always creaking, seems to have
absorbed all the simmering tension. Because
doors and windows are always locked, it is swelteringly hot and everyone
sweats. Like emotions are repressed, odours
are trapped. A mutton broth sits on the
stove and has been reheated for the family all week; it is probably the reason
why everyone has digestive upset, resulting in the stench of vomit permeating
the house.
Lizzie’s
narration is the most unusual. From the
beginning, her mind is shown to be disordered at best. Sometimes she speaks in a type of baby talk,
repeating words: “The clock on the
mantel ticked ticked” and “My heart beat nightmares, gallop, gallop” and “I
went to the pail of water by the well, let my hands sink into the cool sip sip.” Some of her descriptions are rather unusual: “My legs began to shake and drum into the
floor and I took a bite of my pear to make them still.” Certainly her first reaction on seeing her
father’s body is bizarre: she says, “’You
ought to stop with the tobacco, Father.
It makes your skin smell old.’” Is
her confusion when describing her actions an indication of a dissociative
fugue?
Benjamin’s
narration, however, is the least interesting.
He gives the perspective of an outsider but he really adds little to the
story. His association with the creepy
uncle and his proclivity for brutality do for a time suggest another suspect in
the case, but I found his narrative to be a distraction. Are his psychopathic tendencies supposed to mirror
those of the Bordens’ killer? He is used
to fill in some of the details of the trial and subsequent events, but I would
have appreciated Emma’s perspective more.
The only
family member who elicits the reader’s sympathy is Emma. As a teenager, she made a promise to her
dying mother, a promise which Lizzie does not let her forget: “’Don’t think you can go live without me. You’re breaking your promise to Mother. You’re selfish, Emma.’” Because of Lizzie, Emma gives up on love and
has to live with the realization that “I had made the wrong decision.” She lists some of what she sacrificed for her
sister: “All of it for Lizzie. My flesh heated. How could Father not have noticed?” At one point Emma concludes, “I knew deep
down that I ought to abandon the fanciful and take what was real, that I lived
with my father and stepmother, lived with a sibling who would never give me
up. My time to be anything, anyone, had
slipped. I had to live with that disappointment.”
Readers
should be warned that their senses will suffer an onslaught: the author excels at auditory, gustatory and
olfactory imagery. And in the end,
readers may even be convinced that events did in fact occur as the novel describes.
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