Thank you so much for your kind words yesterday about my back. It’s feeling much better now, just a bit stiff. Instead my poor son has gone down with a nasty throat virus-thingy so I am still writing from a medical ward. We’re obviously just having one of those collective low-health moments.
But I am also behind with my reviews, which is at least something I can fix. So, moving swiftly on to another comic novel, and one that takes as its basis the tragic question of what can be done for children who have never known stability. It’s odd, isn’t it, how funny novels are so often built on heartbreaking premises? Canadian writer, Miriam Toews has carved herself a niche for dealing with the problems of adolescence and in The Flying Troutmans, her fifth novel, she rewrites the buddy road trip to moving and amusing effect. Hattie Troutman is living in Paris and has just been dumped by her boyfriend. Just as well, then, that she has something to distract her, in the form of a phone call from her 11-year-old niece, Thebes. Hattie’s sister, Min, has long been a clinical depressant and it turns out she’s having a particularly dark episode, unable to eat, unable to be touched, unable to get out of bed. Her children, Thebes and her 15-year-old brother, Logan, don’t know what to do with her any more and need some adult intervention. Hattie’s lived with Min’s problems all her life, and whilst she doesn’t have any solutions, she knows that she’s the only person left to do anything at all. She flies back to Canada, sees Min into hospital, and finds herself with two disturbed, disruptive and suffering children on her hands.
Hattie’s solution is to take off in the family’s decrepit van to cross America in search of the children’s long-lost father. Thebes sits in the back with purple hair, filthy clothes, a vast bag of art supplies and the anxiety-induced need to talk incessantly. She passes her time in metaphysical discussion and the manufacture of novelty-sized cheques for anyone who’ll have them. Logan, by contrast, is on the verge of shutting down. He prefers to tune his family out, his headphones pumping music by scary-sounding groups whilst he carves messages into the dashboard with his knife. His only other need is to find a basketball court every now and then to practice shooting. As they drive and bicker and bond their way to California, Hattie’s narrative intersperses the present with memories of Min’s childhood and its wearying series of psychotic moments. Although Hattie has all the hallmarks of adulthood, it’s clear that growing up alongside Min and feeling the inevitable burden of responsibility has prevented her from finding her direction in life. She desperately wants to lift the troubles from the shoulders of her niece and nephew, and give them courage and purpose and hope, but on this road trip, it’s a case of the blind leading the blind.
Toews’ characters are all people who don’t have anything if they can’t quite manage to have each other. These aren’t kids with plans and ambitions, and Hattie has nowhere else to be, no work to love, only the dull ache of dissatisfaction with her life choices. Toews understands that you can only be yourself if you can leave your family behind, and you can only do that if your family is strong and stable enough to let you go. Otherwise, there is little to be had of interest and engagement outside the family bonds, all routes lead back to the place of origin and its contagious flaws. But in her three characters, she does an amazingly good job of producing entertaining and lovable neurotics. She captures tremendously well the love-hate scrapping of siblings, their boundless and yet pointless creativity in the games they play, their breathtaking ability to stick the knife in, and their deep, protective love. It was only about halfway through the book, in a moment when I suddenly felt claustrophobic with the story, that I realized how unflinching Toews’ focus is on her characters. They are rarely interspersed with other people and barely get out of the van. And yet it was the only moment of claustrophobia I suffered. The pace and the whipcrack dialogue and the incident keep coming until you are cheerfully bound up with them, hoping as much as they do that some kind of redemption lies at the end of the route.
This is a beautifully written book, consistently funny and poignant and troubled. It does have a very particular emotional ideology that it buys into, however. It belongs to the school of thought that suggests you can never properly intervene on behalf of another, but if you just keep going, if you let life unfold, things will come right. There is a strong but unspoken belief in the resources of the world that powers the positive side of this narrative. We are never invited to wonder where Hattie’s money comes from, or how the family feed themselves, or whether Thebes will run out of art supplies in the middle of the desert. The search that matters is the quest for good enough love, love that will not falter or flinch, love that asks for nothing special in return. The essence of good parental love, in other words. Everything is subordinate to that particular search, but also complicit with it. If we look, the story suggests, we will find. It’s a lovely message, and one that keeps what could have been a desperately sad book in a funny, charming, hopeful place. I’m not entirely sure that the story is plausible, but who cares, I wanted it to be true and maybe there really is a way to turn every life around, regardless of the damage it’s sustained. This is a big-hearted book that acknowledges the power of the world to wound, only on condition that we never lose sight of its equal potential to heal.
Nice review, LL; it’s interesting how often people look to solve problems through travel, only to find out the troubles were portable. A lot of them find California.
You know, I never would have put “what can be done for children who have never known stability” and “funny” together, but you are right that comedy so often seems to come from tragedy. I wonder why that is? An attempt to redeem the tragic? A “if I don’t laugh I’ll cry” sort of avoidance? The book sounds good and I can see how even if you disagree with the particular ideology you’d want it to be true.
Glad your back is feeling better! I hope your son feels better soon and nobody catches what he did!
I can’t believe this is her 5th book! It seems to me like I just heard about her first. That’s interesting, Litlove, to hear about the beliefs underlying her book. I think we all have beliefs that that shape our experience and telling of life (thinking back to your posts about story). To bring them out and make them explicit provides good food for thought.
I’m sorry to hear about your son! Poor y’all – I hope everyone is feeling better soon!
I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Miriam Toews (I keep casting a critical eye on her name for misspelling “toes”). The Flying Troutmans sounds good – a little bit like Little Miss Sunshine, and I loved that film. I’m a sucker for family-car-trip stories. My family used to do a long vacation to Maine every summer, which meant three days up and three days back at the end, and it’s left me terribly fond of road trips. 🙂
She sounds like she’s a good storyteller, and when this happens I will also give an author some slack when it comes to plausibility. I wonder if this was made into a movie–it sounds familiar. I’m adding it to my wishlist in any case. And I hope your son is feeling better soon!
Sorry your boy is not well. I do hope you don’t catch it.
Ombudsbed – lol! Yes, if I decided to cure my soul with travel, then I can imagine how California might appeal as a balm. I think it’s probably true that a journey is at best a panacea, but this novel is so beguilingly optimistic in a way that I did appreciate. So. Let fiction rule. 🙂
Stefanie – oh I do so hope that we don’t all come down with this cold – it’s a mean one. I am dettol-ing surfaces and washing my hands obsessively! I guess if we do, then I will end up writing a funny post about it, because dread and general awfulness really do lend themselves to humour. And yet it seems all wrong, doesn’t it? I felt there was a risk of disconnect in the Toews novel, between the true terribleness of the childrens’ predicament and the jovial solution, and yet it DID all mesh together in the end and there were lots of laughs along the way.
Lilian – it is a favourite thing of mine to do, to winkle out author’s belief systems. I’m sure it’s not a way to make friends, but it does entertain me! And I know what you mean about Toews productivity – I was all squaring up to finally reading A Complicated Kindness when this overtook it!
Jenny – you are spot on – I have seen other reviewers mention Little Miss Sunshine, and whilst I don’t know the film, it does seem that the two are on similar territory. If you like road trips, then this is definitely a book for you, and I’d love to know what you think of it if you do pick it up.
Danielle – as Jenny reminded me, it’s been favourably compared to Little Miss Sunshine, which isn’t a movie I know, although it is apparently quite well known. I think you have it quite right there when you say she’s a good storyteller. That seems to hit the nail on the head for me. I had my doubts about the novel, but I really enjoyed it and found it very witty and wise. And thank you – I think he’s a bit better today and able to enjoy his graveyard cough! 🙂
Harriet – thank you. So do I! He’s had two awful colds already this year – I caught one but avoided the other. I am currently washing my hands and all flat surfaces like mad. 🙂
Litlove, I hope you won’t mind a little gentle humor. Regarding your name for me up there, Ombudsbed, I’m pondering the best reply.
Maybe, Ombudsbed is where my best thinking gets done?
Ombudsbed is where I go to snore like I’m sawing logs, not posting blogs?
Ombudsbed is a place I only share with my wife?
*a wink and a grin*
(I know there’s a joke on the title “No Sex Please, We’re British” in here somewhere … )
I feel sure I’d like this novel very much – thanks for the review, LL, especially as it was written from the sick bay!!
Great review of a splendid book! I read it in December and have been buying it for my friends, for the witty dialogue, for the delightful relationships and for its message of hope. I believe The Flying Troutmans is begging to be a movie, one that I would pay good money to see.
Toews is an author I’ve heard mentioned now and then but someone I didn’t know well, so I’m glad to learn something about her. She sounds like a lot of fun! I guess I don’t really believe in the idea that if you just keep going everything will turn out okay, but I think I might like reading a book with that comforting message anyway.
I’m so pleased you enjoyed Their Finest Hour and a Half by Lissa Evans. If you’d be interested in recieving any other of Transworld’s books for review please just send me an email with your details or you can find me on twitter.