This is my second book by Mary Lawson, and I can attest to the fact that she is a marvelous storyteller. The Other Side of the Bridge is a tale of two brothers, Arthur and Jake, whose sibling rivalries and jealousies lead to long-term consequences they could barely have imagined. It is also the story of Ian, a teenage boy, son of the town doctor, who becomes obsessed with Arthur’s wife and helps bring the family secrets and conflicts to a head.
The novel uses the dual-timeline device, which I think can be very effective in the right hands, though it is less often successful than one might think. These are the right hands–Lawson knows what she is doing, and she sprinkles the present and the past together like she is following an age-old recipe.
She is a marvelously skilled writer, painting the landscape with as much care as she does the people who inhabit it, and telling us something about those people by measuring their reactions to nature itself.
He stood alone in the silence of the night, remembering. In his mind’s eye he saw the two of them–always saw them the same, standing together, faces turned upward. Clouds pale against the blue-black of the night. Stars cold and bright. The moon hanging there, pale and brilliant, clouds drifting across it like smoke. The sky and the silent land beneath it stretching on, and on, and on, so that he and his father were shrunk to almost nothing by the vastness of it. Two tiny insignificant specks, side by side, faces upturned, staring at the sky.
The hearts of her characters are laid open for us, so that we can see the humanity beneath the less savory ones, and the faults that lurk within the best of them. They are, in short, human. They make mistakes, and they suffer for them. They fail to understand one another in sometimes the most basic of ways.
Worse still, going over and over what he had said, that one unbearable, unforgivable word. Trying to unsay it. Desperate to find a way around the unalterable fact that once you have said something, it is said. Once it has left your lips, you cannot take it back.
Added to her ability to reveal characters, is her ability to reveal truths. I stumbled across them on almost every page. The truths of how hard it is sometimes to explain how you feel, or why you feel as you do. Why does a mother love one son better? Why does a son not wish to step into his father’s shoes? Why does one woman, among all others, become the definition of womanhood to an adolescent mind? Why does a woman sometimes love a man who she knows is unworthy of her love? And, while we are fooling others, can we also manage to fool ourselves?
Strange the way the mind works. The way it protects itself from things it cannot face. Grief, for instance. Or regret. Guilt. It finds something else, anything, to draw between it and what cannot be looked at.
This is a novel of intensity, intense relationships and intense moments in life. It often has an almost leisurely pace, but there is always that sense that something is lurking around the corner, waiting to happen–that we are caught in the calm before the storm. It is enjoyable reading, but not shallow reading. It leaves you pondering. I like that.