I’ve really been dithering over this review because I wanted to do this perfect novel justice. I love Andrea Goldsmith’s work, having previously read Invented Lives, a novel I was so impressed with. The Buried Life was, to me, utter perfection, the exact type of literary fiction I crave. She brings people to life, in all their imperfect glory, and Melbourne sings on the page by way of her pen.
‘And then there was love. It’s hard being loved, you have to live up to it, be worthy of it.’
This is a story of friendship, love, death, and the things we bury deep within. The three main characters and what they come to mean to each other was profound. We have Adrian, a man in his forties, living alone now after the end of a long-term relationship, a professor on the subject of death. His best friend is Kezi, a woman in her twenties who lives close by, estranged from her religious family, lonely and adrift despite having a committed girlfriend and a creative career that is taking off. When Adrian meets Laura by chance in a cheese shop, a woman in her sixties, married for over thirty years, with a successful career in town planning, their trio is formed, despite the vast age gaps between each of them and their varied backgrounds.
Laura was a deeply complex character, and I adored her (she was probably my favourite by a nudge), but her marriage with Tony pained me. What an insufferable prig he was. An absolute liar, a con man, inadequate and irrelevant. He was somewhat familiar, perhaps all women have come across a Tony here and there over the years. What Goldsmith does though, with Laura and the way she justified Tony’s behaviour towards her, the things he would say, the gratitude she seemed intent on laying at his feet, for choosing her, for improving her, even though she knew, deep inside, that he was the ruin of her. It took the accidental discovery of a lie to unravel a marriage of over thirty years. I can’t quite articulate the way Goldsmith depicted this marriage and its toxicity, but it was so finely written.
‘It pains me to say it, but you’re like one of Skinner’s rats,’ Hannah had said years ago. ‘Tony dismantles you piece by piece. And when you’re hardly recognisable, he comes to your rescue with a little reward, a little pat. Your husband knows exactly when to stop.’
And then we have Adrian, such a contrast to Tony, not a perfect man, but a different one. I love the way Goldsmith revisits things from a different perspective, and in doing so, conveys so much about a character and their dynamic with another. Take these two perspectives on Laura’s scarf:
‘Laura pulled her hat lower and twisted a hot-pink scarf around her neck. The colour was perfect against her skin.’ (Adrian’s perspective)
‘She pulled on a hat and twisted a scarf about her neck, the hot-pink one that Tony said made her look sallow; he was probably right, but it was a gift from her sister, and she liked it.’
Just a scarf, but these two sentences contain a tiny universe of information for the reader, and you instantly know what type of man Adrian is, and what type of man Tony is. This is what she does. This is how she writes. And then there is the end. Part IV, Trekking in Antartica. I have no words to describe how I felt when this title fell into place within the narrative.
Cheese, wine, and rambling conversations about art, death, music, and literature. A brilliant, stunning novel that will undoubtedly be my book of the year for 2025.
Thanks to the publisher for the review copy.