Thursday, 15 March 2012

Not with the head but with the heart

This was the first novel I'd read by Anna Quindlen, and I found the blurb on the back cover to be very misleading. I was expecting a Jodi Picoultish story about an accused woman, her complicated trial, and some soundbites about the moral 'issue' of euthanasia. Instead I got something much quieter and much deeper, a narrative which is primarily about the relationships between young professional Ellen Guelden, her dying mother, and her distant father, and which uses the central plot thread of Ellen's trial for the mercy killing of her mother largely as a framing device to explore these characters' lives.

Ellen's family situation can be summed up simply. Late in the novel, she comments that her father's problem is that he divides women into two types, 'those who are all heart and those who are all head', and has underestimated both herself and her mother, Katherine, by assuming that Katherine was all heart and Ellen is all head. By this point, Ellen has clearly proven herself to be capable of deep empathy and selflessness, giving up her job in New York to come to care for her mother in her final months, and ironically, it was her father's accusation that she was 'heartless' that convinced her to take this action. However, before her mother became ill, her approach to her family was neatly dichotomous; rejecting her mother's loyal homemaking, she tried as best she could to please her father in every way. When he reads a poem aloud and then dismisses it as trashy, her relief is almost painful that she didn't have a chance to comment on how beautiful she found it. Unsurprisingly, Ellen's father is not the paragon she believes him to be - and her gradual realisation of this throughout the course of the novel is realistic, but hardly unexpected.

One True Thing is almost too neat a tale, but it is partially saved by the details of Ellen's narration. Characters who are quiet, good, and kind, like Katherine Guelden, are ferociously difficult to convey in fiction without making them seem idealised, dull, or annoying. Quindlen manages to put Katherine on the page without diminishing the reality of her complex character. Her evocation of the small college town in which they live, Langhorne, is also beautifully conveyed - from Ellen's early observation that college towns always feel strange to those who live there permanently, watching the students come and go, to her descriptions of the Christmas-tree decorating festival and the emptiness of the town in the holiday season. Plot is almost non-existent, and even a twist at the end of the novel takes its dramatic force not from the revelation it provides but in the reassessment it forces us to make of the characters we've grown very close to. And yet this is only a partial salvation. Reading this novel, I was absorbed in the world Quindlen created, but worried that it wasn't all a little underplayed - it did not strike me as a novel I would remember for long, however much I had enjoyed it at the time.

And yet... Perhaps the hidden power of this novel lies in the second of Ellen's father's spurious categories, listening to it not with the head but with the heart. Tellingly, Ellen comments after this anecdote that she feels she got the worst of the deal from her father's division of labour, implying that she would choose the heart over the head now. Any decent life, or decent novel, needs to balance both, but the particular quality that One True Thing possesses is not easily explained. Quite honestly, you might just have to read it for yourself.

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