This review first appeared in The Peterbrough Examiner in October 2003.
LOST
by Joy Fielding
Doubleday Canada
372 pages
$35.95
review by Ursula Pflug
487 words
Best selling author Joy Fielding writes in a casual contemporary voice, familiar and accessible. Her new novel Lost is so last year in Toronto it feels as if one is reading about one’s own life, a trick Margaret Atwood employs to good use as well. Readers will find ample references to the Toronto International Film Festival, the novel’s backdrop, and to the remembrance of 9/11. Everyone, Fielding’s protagonist Cindy muses, remembers exactly where they were when they heard the news.
Cindy, a divorced mother in her early forties, describing that day, says that at the time she couldn’t imagine anything worse happening. But then it does, and this time, the nature of the apocalypse is personal and not political; Cindy's older daughter Julia, a twenty-one year old aspiring actress, disappears.
Cindy goes into panic mode and stays there for days; the police are brought in, and we are introduced to Julia's father, a philandering entertainment lawyer. Cindy’s life is further complicated by the severe postpartum depression of her neighbour Faith. Faith’s husband Ryan, it turns out, is also less than loyal; and due to various odd occurrences the couple makes it onto Cindy’s suspects list. Cindy’s near and dear ones wonder whether she is going overboard in stereotypical hysterical female fashion, but Cindy is exonerated as new facts emerge and the detectives on the case pay the neighbours a visit.
Cindy has a rather dreadful time of things, but the reader feels that in spite of her constant fear, she has the love of her wonderful mother and her irritating but still very supportive sister; longstanding and close girlfriends, and the possibility of a fabulous new guy.
Fielding’s page turning novel reads like a mystery but is actually an extended meditation on motherhood; Cindy, in spite of her comfortable middle class life, has had her share of hardship, and spends most of her time doing things for, and worrying about others. By the end of the novel she learns at last, and at ample cost, that she needs to take some time and space for herself. Oh yes, and that fabulous guys really do exist, after all. Which is my only quibble with the book. Neil Macfarlane is handsome, sexy, funny, kind, ethical, and smitten with Cindy and not her daughters or someone nearer their age, which Cindy, unsurprisingly, considering her marital history, at first finds hard to believe. Mcfarlane, it strikes me, is drawn as wish fulfilment. I’ve noticed this as well in some of the enormously popular novels of US writer Barbara Kingsolver; perhaps these amazing fictional men account in part for the authors’ popularity. Still, I found myself wishing at times he wasn’t quite so perfect, a little more human. As it was, in a book full of characters likeable for all their realistic foibles, Macfarlane stood out as being a little less than real, or is that more?