Martha Horgan isn't like anyone else. She isn't like anyone she knows or like anyone the people who know her know. She isn't like anyone else you're likely to read about.
What's wrong with her? Autism? Maybe, in part. Dissociation? Whatever that means. She develops violent hatreds that can't be changed, but even more violent affections that no negative evidence can dislodge. She cannot hold a normal conversation because she does not know the rules, cannot recognize the mechanisms of interaction. Incapable of instigating, she's forced to react – almost always to her detriment.
Shamed and humiliated in her teens, she becomes the town laughingstock, the object of scorn and of tales of sexual abandon – when, in fact, she's never had a sexual encounter. Her father is dead, her mother gone and she's left in the care of her young aunt Frances, a beautiful redneck who married a wealthy man decades her senior and now, as a widow, tries to maintain a lifestyle she depends on but, like Martha, doesn't fully understand. With her fits of pointless anger and careening long-term love affair with a married man, is there something of Martha in her?
Morris presents Martha from inside, not in first person, but through a lurching, elemental style that, at first, struck me almost as an inability to write. In other words, she brings directly alive the incomprehensible world that Martha daily faces – her repetitive inability to breathe under stress, slamming her chest to get words out, trying to force "normal" sentences when she can find no basis to form them. This repetition could pale, but instead it creates and pressurizes Martha's claustrophobic, panting world. Perhaps, more than any other label, Martha should be declared "innocent."
Morris is equally strong with her other characters – especially Frances and insinuating, alcoholic workman Mack – sifting her style to meet their outlines.
There's no need to know a word of the plot, because the real plot lies inside the heads of Martha, Frances, Mack and the all-too-trapped men and women wrung through their lives.
I find it almost impossible to say what's needed about this novel, unique in its no-holds-barred portrayal of a damaged human being fits no category. But I don't think I can praise this book too highly.