With “The Liar’s Wife,” Mary Gordon proves her skill with the novella, a challenging literary genre and one of my favorites. Four stories, each written in the first person, tie the past to the present, America to Europe, protagonists wrestling with haunting questions, some regrets, demanding responsibilities. Often their thinking is challenged by the most unexpected incident. What I took away in the end is reflected in the song lyrics sung by a friend to Genevieve in the second novella, “Grab your hat and get your coat.” Live your life.
“The Liar’s Wife” is the first novella and scaffolds the remaining three. Sipping a glass of wine in her deceased mother’s back yard in New Canaan, Connecticut, one of her three homes, is Jocelyn, 72 years old, happily married to Richard, a lawyer, retired from her position researching mosquitoes. Questions haunt her: “Where had it come from, this overriding lack of courage? This sense the worst could always happen?”…“What if the world is not a good place? What if the worst came to the worst?”
Then, she frets about the Frito-Lay truck parked across the street. Within a few minutes, her first husband, Johnny Shaunessey , now 75 years old, a man she has not seen for fifty years, is sitting in her living room with his larger than life girlfriend, Linnet. What Jocelyn has never understood is that Joe and his friends believed they were sharing stories, sometimes to protect, sometimes to enlarge life, in their two years together in Dublin, but Jocelyn always perceived them harshly as lies, personal affronts, ultimately causing her to return home to America, to a safe life. Further, and perhaps, sadly, Jocelyn believed her life was more a function of luck…”What was called a life. A life of meaning.” Everything in her life had been carefully chosen, carefully tended. Contained.”
The night with Johnny and Linnet, filled with music and story, illuminates a singular truth about Johnny who states, “I’ve always loved life,” a foreign concept to Jocelyn who can only admit to being “happy,” a muted state at best she realizes. Johnny, ill with lung cancer, has no regrets about their short life together, and she realizes she does not either because “He had taught her who she was not…He lifted the heavy branches that were covering her life…sealed up understanding,” a quiet epiphany for Jocelyn.
The second novella, “Simone Weil in New York,” begins in 1942, a year into WWII for Americans but years into the flight from oppression for so many Europeans. Genevieve Levy, raised and schooled in France, now married to a doctor serving in the South Pacific, the mother of 13 month old Aaron and caretaker of her brother, Laurent, his body trapped by cerebral palsy and a brilliant professor at Columbia University, has a chance meeting with her former, formidable teacher, Simone Weil. Now, nine years later after being Genevieve’s teacher, Simone has fled Europe with her parents to live in New York with her older brother, Andre, a great mathematician. Imbedded seamlessly within this fictional narrative are Simone Weil’s strong personal philosophy, her protests against what is unfair or unjust, her fasts and deprivations, matching practice to her beliefs.
Over the next few months, Genevieve is alternately angry with Simone, protecting her from criticism, avoiding her, frustrated with her protests against ordinary life, and wanting her to understand this new American life. Exhausted from her responsibilities caring for her child and brother, worried her husband will not return from war, she struggles that she has lost her idealism, her understanding of love and beauty and all that is important in the world defined by her teacher, Simone Weil.
Trained by Weil nine years before in France to speak the truth always, Genevieve acknowledges she didn’t at a crucial moment. She laments to Laurent, feeling untrue to herself and her teacher. “I don’t know how to speak about it, how to understand it. What is the right way to describe what she said.” Laurent counsels, “You did not cause hurt.”
The third novella, “Thomas Mann in Gary, Indiana,” is narrated by 90 year old Bill Morton, a retired doctor, about the greatest, most important day in his life, when, as a 17 year old high school student, he introduced Thomas Mann, the great German writer, to his home town in 1939 and lifted a veil on his life.
The small details about his teachers, his mother, his home life, reveal in many ways a typical, bright high school student and then, his epiphany about his provincial life, prejudice, and “that America was not the world and that we, as Americans, had no right to the lulling music which was not of the spheres, not even of the sirens, but the low hum of cave dwellers who didn’t even have the wit to see the shadows.” This, then, drives Bill’s entire life.
The fourth novella, “Fine Arts,” is told by twenty five year old Theresa Riordan, most recently a doctoral student at Yale, influenced by her life in Milwaukee focused on the care of her paralyzed father and her progressive education by a group of nuns who understood “Theresa had promise.”
Theresa’s affair with a Yale professor, her mentor and advisor, a married man, is the universal story of an affair that can only end one way. Two thirds of the novella describe Theresa’s journey to Lucca, literally and metaphorically, in search of a dissertation topic on Matteo Civitali, a 15th century sculptor. What I love best about Gordon’s writing is when she lends her laser focus on small moments, tiny details of the feel of marble, the carved fingers “suggesting resignation, supplication, assent,” metaphors for her characters.
Theresa then meets Gregory Allard, a wealthy collector of art, including Civitali, and his 40 something son, Ivo, and his friends, culture and anti-culture. Their stories are not at all predictable and will turn the reader’s thinking around and around again. Theresa’s life continues to surprise the reader after she leaves Lucca to visit her beloved nuns again and Maura, her best friend from childhood, now an E.R. nurse in Tortola, and receives an extraordinary gift she believes might actually be a burden.
At the end she struggles when you have nothing and then “everything,” what do you do? Her epiphany is simple advice: “And then you’ll do the next thing, and then something else.”