The quickie
1. Three words to describe it: dramatic, dark, raunchy (haha, never used that one before!)
2. Main theme: how we get stuck in the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves and how that can be the most lethal poison
3. Leaves you feeling: somber but with some hope
4. Read this book if you: enjoy seeing lives intertwine thought puzzled narratives and want to scratch the surface and step into someone else’s internal dialogue – their life – for a moment
5. Don’t read this book if you: think romcom is the big deal, or need swords and magic and perfect characters to appreciate a story
6. Life lesson to be learned from: To not get so stuck in our lives and our own narratives that we forget we have the power to change everything about them if we want to.
The review attempt
Moderspassion — roughly translated Motherly passion or maybe Mother's passion? – is novel with split narratives sprouting from a group of people, mostly strangers to each other; who find their refuge from a terrible storm and flood at Sally’s cafe and restaurant outside the small town of Arvika. After the first chapter, narrated by the owner of Sally’s, Minna, we as readers might think we have a fairly good grasp who these people, sheltered at Sally’s during the storm, are – or at least their type of character. However, as the narrative moves on from Minna, allowing the reader to see these strangers selves and lives from their own eyes, we realize just how little can actually be ascertained about a person just looked at from the outside. Though not at all being a sentimental novel, these narratives call on our compassion for the characters presenting them. The character portraits are by no means pretty – in fact, the feeling of antipathy might be just as present as any sympathy – but the characters are real enough within the covers of the novel (to be critical, they do border on parodic in some instances, but with some goodwill one can let that go for the purpose of puzzling the story together) to, at the very least, awaken a sense of understanding of how framed our lives and selves are, by the stories we tell about them to ourselves and to others.
There is no picture perfect in this novel – except maybe in the grandness of the storm and in the beautiful nature surrounding Sally’s and Arvika. As imperfect as the characters are – because this is a novel about people, not about grandiose events – they are perfect for the purpose of delivering what might be the morale of the story: that our lives are no more and no less than what we tell ourselves they are. We see this in all the narratives of the novel, perhaps most so in Minna’s. Minna makes her life’s story out to be much more full of live than it actually is, denying a truth so hard to come to terms with that she convinces herself to believe completely in another life, although it is not there… We see this also in how the inevitableness of life, the causality of one thing leading to the next, is depicted in the novel: how one lie told there inevitably leads to this tragedy here. It’s a well woven webb, where the narratives overlap and the use of flashbacks slowly build the puzzle showing the chain of events, creating the sense that the outcome cannot be averted.
Just as the characters find themselves both saved and trapped at Sally’s during the storm, they are safe but imprisoned in the idea of their lives – they are stuck with the way things are, no matter if they want for change or for more, or if they don’t. This notion is present in the novel to such an extent that at times, the reading is quite despairing. But there are enough turns in this novel to give the reader hope for a better tomorrow, although it won’t be all roses and sunshine and popsicles.