Why that is praise I wondered – how can a piece of writing be savoured and appreciated when written without sentiments; isn’t that exactly what we look for in a good engrossing story? Well, it took me the reading of the book to understand and appreciate firstly Clare Morrall for her brilliantly written first novel and Professor John Carrey for his acute observation.
From the first chapter itself, the story reminded me of the tragic ‘The Waterland’ by Graham Swift, another most fascinating story. Kitty can’t be a mother; her first attempt has failed and taken away with it the chances for any more attempts. She can’t remember much of her mother either who died when she was three. Her brothers and father won’t tell her much about her and all of them have different versions. In her absent mother, she tries to find her identity, when she being a woman, possessing the fortune of giving another an identity, can’t. She’s in despair, going eccentric. How then would it affect her when the dead mother is resurrected, to realize that things are not what they have been for all of these years, the four loving brothers and father that she calls family are not what they are; they have kept a devastating secret that will make her lose the little balance she has.
What follows then is a tragic innocent crime, shocking, unpardonable yet one one can sympathize with. Things won’t be the same for Kitty and her family again. Yet again.
And in all this, her unconventionally calm husband is always with her. Two characters I liked immensely in this novel apart from Kitty are James, her husband and her doctor, Dr Cross; I wish I come across them in real life. One feels sorry for James though, for being taken for granted, for being a pillar to rest on, write on, and lean on but to be easily forgotten too. Although one can’t be cross with Kitty, I wish she had respected James a little more than she did; pillars also need to draw their strength from others, to be cared for.
You should never trust quiet people like Kitty for their tranquility or their quietude; they are most definitely lying, not particularly to you though. They are quite loquacious in their heads – there’s a constant interminable talking, rambling, musing going on. They’re fighting shouting accusing, arguing – they’re talking, making conversations, playing many parts. They are themselves and others; they are their rationalizations and perceptions; they are the creators and actors – an unsafe environment, within and without. They are constantly fighting with the world.
A trigger is all they need – a concerned look or touch, the right pressure, the right words, the right gesture – and they’ll tell you their story like uninterrupted flowing water. You’ll be surprised and shocked by their ability to speak, emote, surrender; you’ll realize there’s more soul than flesh; you’ll realize they have a point of view. Once you show them that trust, they are unfailingly and vulnerably yours.
On the last page of the book, I felt like watching the sun set on a quiet secluded beach. The sound of the breaking waves, the salty breeze, the changing colours made for a serene setting. My arm was around Kitty’s shoulder as we were sitting there next to each other while she was narrating her story – in the most beautiful manner.
I was truly fascinated both by the story and the writing style. I wish I had written the story.
The book was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize for Fiction 2003.
Use this link to listen to the book on Speechify.
My rating: 5 out of 5
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Book cover:
Clare Morrall: https://www.theguardian.com/profile/clare-morrall
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