Category Archives: Families-Fiction

The Year We Left Home

I was having lunch with my cousin Jane last week and we were talking about the kinds of books we like to read and we both agreed that we don’t need closure in a novel, that in fact, we prefer ambiguous endings. Life goes on and there’s rarely closure and it’s satisfying to find those qualities in a novel. I think that’s why for me, reading mysteries is like eating candy (not a good habit). When you’re done reading (or chewing), the thrill is gone and you need another one to stoke your addiction.

My most recent favorite novel with an ambiguous ending is The Year We Left Home by Jean Thompson, coming out in May. Thompson follows a Midwestern family for 30 years, particularly the children who come of age in the early 1970s. Thompson’s descriptions of people and situations are fabulous: a disliked brother-in-law is “an undigested lump” in the family. The chapters are like punchy short stories, filled with character, incident, and the economic and social changes that reverberated in the lives of farming families in the Midwest.

Nothing in these characters’ lives can be predicted, but everything feels just right. At the end, there’s sadness, redemption, and some new beginnings, leaving us with lives we recognize as our own.

Property Values

Rose Tremain’s 2010 novel Trespass is a dark story about two pairs of brothers and sisters with convoluted relationships and how property further entangles them in old quarrels and sorrows, with disastrous results. It’s also a tale of outsiders and insiders, as is often the case with novels set in France. (If you haven’t read Diane Johnson’s elegant, satirical novels Le Mariage, Le Divorce, and L’Affaire, now would be a good time.)

Trespass opens when a young girl, wandering away from a class trip, discovers a crime; Tremain uses this event to tell story of the roiling emotions that have led to this point. Anthony Verey, once a wealthy, celebrated British antiques dealer, decides that living near his cherished sister Veronica will cure his depression and give him a fresh start. Veronica lives in Provence with her lover, Kitty, who hates Anthony. He sets off to find the perfect house, one that will be an elegant setting for his “beloveds,” a few perfect treasures from his shop. Anthony’s quest made me think of David Sedaris’s comment about “the rejuvenating power of real estate.” (It appears in  Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim.) But lest you think that there’s humor in Tremain’s book, I’ll remind you right away that this is a dark story, filled with the awful baggage the characters bring from childhood.

Anthony is enchanted by Mas Lunel, an old stone house owned by Aramon Lunel, a dissipated, alcoholic wretch, who has relegated his sister Audrun to a makeshift cottage on the edge of the property. The rifts in their relationship are seismic and Mas Lunel looms as a symbol of all that went wrong. Anthony’s   narcissistic interest in Mas Lunel as a canvas for his life sets in motion a chain of events with fatal consequences.

This bare outline of the story doesn’t reveal that how Tremain’s damaged characters come alive on the page, with all their hopes and sorrows. I read an earlier novel, The Way I Found Her, several years ago and always meant to read more of her novels. Now I will.

Below I’ve put together a short list of novels and memoirs about houses and how they affect family relationships. It’s a common dream that the place we live will change our lives. Anyone who reads the articles in the Sunday NY Times Real Estate section sees that weekly.

Novels:
Barker, Pat. Another World
Forster, E.M. Howard’s End
Lively, Penelope. Family Album
Mawer, Simon. The Glass Room
Memoirs:
Bechdel, Alison. Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic
Boylan, Jennifer Finney. I’m Looking Through You: Growing Up Haunted
Fiennes, William. The Music Room: A Memoir

Penelope Lively

Family Album by Penelope Lively
Lively has been one of my favorite authors through the years; she never disappoints me with her stories of the emotional turmoil  at the heart of her characters’ relationships. The family in question here is the Harpers, 6 children, two parents, and the au pair who stays on after the children are grown. Their large Edwardian house, Allersmead, is meant to be the gracious center of a warm and loving family, but harbors a shocking secret and painful heartaches. Lively shifts the point of view from one character to another and we get to know them all quite well. There’s no plot to speak of, just the rubbing together of a set of complex personalities,  which is quite engrossing enough.

Going Home

Brooklyn by Colm Toibin.
I started listening to this novel a while ago but at that time I wasn’t able  to slow myself down to its leisurely pace; I returned to it last month and found it full of rewards. Toibin writes about Eilis Lacey, a young girl who has the chance to leave her native Ireland in the early 1950s for Brooklyn and better prospects.  We see the world through Eilis’s eyes, her confusion and how she feels rootless and lonely in Brooklyn, torn from the familiar patterns of Enniscorthy, where she understood how to behave and what was expected of her.  Intelligent, but naive and unmoored, she makes an unexpected decision, and when she is called back to Ireland, she has to come to terms with the consequences of what she’s done. It’s a lovely, character-driven story, evoking a particular place and time but mainly allowing us to see the world through someone else’s eyes. I became so involved with Eilis’s thoughts that there was a point where I had to put the novel down for a day, worried for her and apprehensive about her future. A novel that can do that, well, it’s pretty special.

I grew up in Brooklyn, as did my parents, and I have a fondness for the novels and memoirs that recall the borough’s neighborhoods. Here are a few:
Snow in August by Pete Hamill, a gem of a story about the unlikely friendship between a young Irish Catholic boy and a Jewish Holocaust survivor in a Brooklyn neighborhood filled with violence and lost hopes.
In Case We’re Separated by Alice Mattison. Wm Morrow, 2005. Thirteen very affecting linked stories about several generations of the Kaplowitz family in 1950s Brooklyn: as they connect and spill apart throught the years, we learn of the secret loves, hopes, and despairs. Mattison uses the repeated imagery of six ordinary objects, echoing the poetic form of the sestina.
Now and Then: From Coney Island to Here by Joseph Heller. Knopf, 1998. In this nostalgic and very evocative memoir, Heller, author of Catch-22, recalls growing up in a bustling, thrumming Coney Island at a time when it was filled with immigrants, hustlers, strivers, and a very observant boy and his mother.
Motherless Brooklyn by Jonathan Lethem. Doubleday, 1999. Lionel Essrog, orphan and Tourette’s sufferer, recounts his efforts to solve a murder, in this tour de force of storytelling and language.
Sweet and Low: A Family Story by Rich Cohen. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2006. A hilarous look at the rather dysfunctional family that created the familiar sugar substitute.
No list of books about Brooklyn would be complete without including titles about Brooklyn’s two icons:
The Boys of Summer by Roger Kahn. Harper & Row, 1972. This classic of sportswriting, perenially in print, is Kahn’s inspiring tribute to the fabled team of his youth, ending with the 1955 season.
The Great Bridge: The Epic Story of the Building of the Brooklyn Bridge by David McCullough. This weighty book is filled with the drama and tragedy of the Roeblings, father and son, both brilliant engineers who gave their lives to build the Bridge. McCullough also explains in great detail how the Bridge was constructed and the risks to the workers toiling in the dangerous caissons.
And then there’s that great trio of short fiction and nonfiction about Brooklyn, published by Akashic Press: Brooklyn Noir, Brooklyn Noir 2: The Classics, and Brooklyn Noir 3: Nothing But the Truth.

What I’m reading now: My Hollywood by Mona Simpson