Fiction. BADLANDS portrays the twenty-four-year marriage of Caro and Daniel Singleman--the marriage that was, is, and might have been. As the dying Caro confronts a night of crisis, the couple attempt to reshape the present by reconstructing the past through the interleaving of memory, hallucination, and dream. In this fraught terrain, BADLANDS explores two human mysteries--the inscrutability of the heart and the persistence of hope in the face of overwhelming loss.
I appreciate the skill with which Reeves conveys the atemporal aspect to existence in this tale of woman dying from cancer and her husband caring for her. They each come to terms with the unspoken in their marriage: the betrayals, the lost dreams, an archaeologist driven by ambition that overrides evidence, the haunting bones of a mother and child who died at the Wounded Knee Massacre, and the worries about their own children. This story with its several refrains is about truth that desires to be told despite its horrors to honor the life that is lived, the love that is brought to it.
the story itself is really solid but the writing style is so confusing and the subplot of the wounded knee massacre only makes it more confusing. so much potential.
This lyrical novella tells the story of a wife and mother, Caro, who is on the verge of death. Addled by medications and the pain itself, she slips in and out of consciousness as her husband Daniel, and their two children, keep vigil beside her. Caro's hallucinations (the source of the book's title) are fierce, and all-consuming, but the book is never muddled or vague or timid -- it never flinches once in the face of prolonged suffering and finally, death. Although its subject is somber indeed, the book is more life-affirming than sad. The relationship between Daniel and Caro is rich and complex, as long marriages often are, and Caro's deep attachment to her teenage children (and theirs to her) is entirely convincing. The book is full of ghosts and shadows and whispers, but it's as real as anything I've read in a long time. I read the last page over and over and over again.
The "now" of this short, lyrical novel is a single night--the last night--in the life of Caro Singleman, a mother of two who is finally losing a long battle with breast cancer. Her thoughts, dreams, and hallucinations lead her (and the reader) back to her young womanhood working on an archeological site in the Badlands, her first encounters with the man who becomes her husband, the early childhood of her son and daughter. At times Caro also channels the lives of those she has studied or imagined in her archeological work, such as a mother escaping the massacre at Wounded Knee. The heavy use of dream and hallucination is very tricky in fiction, and often not to my taste, but Reeves knows just what she is doing and pulls it off beautifully. Her sure voice falls somewhere between prose and poetry. The preoccupation with mortality in this novel is honest, moving, and deep.
Cynthia Reeves is a gorgeous poetic writer who weaves a story with lyrical voice, near perfect word choice and lovely imagery.
A woman is dying of breast cancer and Cynthia takes us on the journey to death. No, not the years, months or even weeks prior to her final release. Cynthia is braver than this. She takes us on the final days, when life is both precious and painful to hold onto.
An intelligent and gorgeous novella. I look forward to more of her work.
From a WWCer! And its moves well among ambiguous realties, and its a love story embedded in the natural world--I see a lot of echoes in your own fiction (Anna)