Twelve pages into this book and you realize two things: first, Siri Hustvedt has so many hooks that if this were an album you’d be singing along by the third time you heard it. Second, there’s a spiritual connection between this book and Sherwood Anderson’s odd masterpiece, Winesburg, Ohio, in both its small-townness and the entwined themes of identity and sexuality.
A little further into the book and you may also be thinking of Edward Hopper’s paintings of American loneliness. There are times when the book veritably aches with loneliness and yet it doesn’t dwell there, merely uses them as launching off points for big questions.
Here’s an example:
"Do you ever feel nothing's real?"
Lily looked at him. "Well," she said slowly," sometimes I think ordinary things are kind of strange..."
Martin nodded vigorously. "It's, it's like there's a skin over everything, and if you could just get under it, you'd, you'd get to what's real, but you never can, so you've got to look for a way to cut through it. You see?"
It’s a lovely exchange, though serious readers will note it has one adverb too many. There aren’t so many of the big questions that the book becomes pondersome. Indeed, at times Lily is so brave her character verges on becoming incredible, which may be a more serious flaw than an extra adverb.
Still, she pulls us into a romance with a mysterious artist, meetups with the mentally-challenged Martin, and explorations of the theater and persona with her best friend, Mabel. The book pulses and crackles. It is vivid and engaging. There are some lovely images here: burnt shoes, a realistic doll, paintings. There are also some horrifying images, but you start to realize that will happen about two-thirds of the way in.
What strikes me most about Siri Hustvedt’s writing is her ability to generate sparks from sentences about ordinary things. This is about a small town in Minnesota and as we read we find it is us that are enchanted, alongside Lily. A lot of this magic is in the words. Here’s a snippet:
The room was warm, and the heat seemed to make Mabel’s perfume stronger. Its sweet smell mingled with the dust, and the sun shone through open curtains onto the coffee table.
Or
The room smelled of paint, smoke and other nameless but familiar things, and when she sat down in the canvas chair, Lily felt afraid of those smells.
A delightful read that makes you want to read more from this wonderful writer.