This pipe felt good, its cold sides penetrated through his jacket and made him feel more awake than he’d had in weeks. And there was something about cars passing without being able to see him that gave him a sort of satisfaction. He was hidden from the street, from anyone walking by and was cocooned in cement. Transported. Slowly the muscles in his body relaxed, his legs, his neck, though he hadn’t even realized they’d been tight. He felt himself breathe and with each exhale felt tension leave his body. Outside something began tapping the pipe. He opened his eyes, startled by the sound of a sort of scraping along the top of it as if something was being dragged against the cement. For a moment he though it might be an animal but quickly dismissed the idea, the sound being almost metallic. He waited, hoping whoever it was would continue walking and was surprised at how afraid he was. The sound of his heart seemed to slide from his ears and mouth into the pipe where it echoed and kept an ominous beat like a bad horror movie, he thought, the killer taking one slow step at a time… —From Lures Grace is 17 and wonders why she feels different. Sheila, her mother, spends endless hours cleaning, furiously trying to scrub away the stubborn pain leaching through the plastic-encased surface of their immaculate home. Gary, her brother, hides in the basement, squinting at life through a haze of pot smoke. Les, her father, finds instant gratification in buying an endless parade of gadgets, each one promising to give him the respect and power he craves. It’s no wonder that Lily’s family seems so normal to Grace. Attracted by her friend’s warm, bright house and caring parents, Grace searches for a refuge of love and acceptance. But although they hardly know each other, a secret thread connects both families, slowly and inexorably unraveling their lives. With lyrical grace and formidable story telling talent, Susan Goyette builds her first novel to a climax that is raw in its emotional power, yet sensitive and ultimately redemptive in its portrayal of people snared by their own pain. There is suffering, but also great beauty and hope in Goyette’s poetically drawn small-town world. Lures is a novel that is difficult to put down, driven by the remarkable writing skill of a writer who will be welcomed as one of the best new voices in today’s literary fiction.
Sue Goyette is a Canadian poet and novelist. Born in Sherbrooke, Quebec, Goyette grew up in Saint-Bruno-de-Montarville, on Montreal's south shore.
Her first poetry book The True Names of Birds (1998) was nominated for the 1999 Governor General's Award, the Pat Lowther Award and the Gerald Lampert Award. Goyette's first novel, Lures: A Novel (2002), was nominated for the 2003 Thomas Head Raddall Award. She has also written another poetry collection, Undone (2004), and won the 2008 CBC Literary Award in poetry for the poem "Outskirts". The poetry collection of the same name, Outskirts won the Atlantic Poetry Prize in 2012. Goyette's fourth poetry collection, Ocean, was published in 2013 by Gaspereau Press.
Goyette has been a member of the faculty of The Maritime Writers' Workshop, The Banff Wired Studio, and The Sage Hill Writing Experience.
She presently lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, and teaches at Dalhousie University.
I'm still thinking about this book, the story of two unconventional families (although only one of them was obviously disfunctional),the teenaged girls and troubled sons who connected them and the horror that threatened them all.
I was very impressed by Sue Goyette's ability to get inside all her characters' heads, regardless of their sex and whether they were trusting toddlers, teenagers who just had to leave home or disenchanted middle aged people who weren't going anywhere. "Lures" is divided into segments rather than chapters, but the point of view is always chrystal clear.
The writing--although it might overly descriptive for some--is lovely too.
This is essentially the story of two dysfunctional families, one horribly so, the other more marginally so (i.e., normal), living their lives amidst an Anglo/French Canadian community in an undisclosed province (presumably Quebec or New Brunswick). The lure of this novel, if you will pardon the self-reference, is the beauty and depth of descriptive prose, which is truly impressive. The domestic dramas which populate the book are somewhat less unique, though I found myself rooting hard for Grace and Jerry's romance to become a successful partnership. The interiority and domesticity of the novel put me in mind of Anne Enright, an Irish novelist whom I sometimes admire very much.
Really enjoyed this book from Canadian author Sue Goyette. It was an easy read yet a heart breaking one. She captured the " you never really know what someone is going through until it is too late" feeling. Highly recommend.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I was lured into the reading of this book by my admiration of the authors poetry, which I only recently discovered. The writing is uncluttered and lyrical, to be sure, but for me that contributed to the ominous tone in this disquieting tale of variations of child abuse and marital agony.
There are some endearing and well portrayed characters. We think we are braced for a few family secrets well before it becomes obvious to the teen friends Lily and Grace, that perhaps the others family is not much nicer than their own. Lily's eternal quest for knowledge is challenged by the insight that "it was bottomless...it was quicksand." p143 and Grace " realized, hearing herself talk about her parents, that they treated her like furniture too, that part of her was covered in plastic...."p47
As much as I identified with Lily and empathized with Grace, and fell in love with Curtis and Dellie and Rave, it was anguish to read this, especially when the message is clear. We never know what broods under the surface of our interactions, and people are capable of monstrous self-deception and unspeakable acts. SG highlights the futility while indicating the necessity of cultivating authentic relationships.
All this is contained in the context of the seasons, as if our grief could be absorbed.
This book reminded me of all the most horrible parts of my own childhood and then made it extra depressing. Every time you think you've reached a point where everything is the worst it proves there's still a ways to go. This is not an easy read, it's definitely not enjoyable, it's not really redemptive or cathartic. The story it does tell is well written. The author does an excellent job of creating unique voices and perspectives for her characters.
You will not stop thinking about this book long after you have finished it. I remember the scenes like a movie. Plus the writer is from my hometown, Montreal. Dark. Realistic. Heartbreaking.