I used Peter Senge’s “ask why five times” tool to get to the root cause of what goes wrong for the people in this novel.
Why is Margaret such a martyr? Why does her sister Elspeth choose the “self-immolation” of guilt that ruins her life? Why, in spite of a seemingly good relationship, has Alec never seen his wife naked? Why does he drink? Why do they all lack the courage to make things right, if not for themselves then for the boy? (Alec tries, but mouses around in secret.)
The answers all ring the same stern bell: Puritanism. The sin that is committed is severe, granted, but the response to it is evil. The wall of Puritanism is so high, so impenetrable, that even its bitter, vindictive architect can’t vault it.
On the eve of destruction, Margaret makes a promise to herself: “She could never forgive them…neither her jealousy nor her religion would allow that.”
Good old religion.
For 18 years, she keeps the promise. Instead of searching for redemption, she “hoards wrong” and searches for reasons to condemn. She has the power to contain in misery the two people who are trapped in her orbit, or release them through forgiveness. She chooses containment. It’s like turning the lock on a prison cell three times, once for herself.
And yet Stegner, in his brilliance, wins sympathy for Margaret. He stays by her side in preference to the others, making her the main protagonist. We hear her thoughts, witness her struggles, and we are appalled, first at what happens to her, then at her choices, and finally at what happens to her because of her choices.
Although this is Stegner’s first published novel, his powers are in full evidence. He introduces themes that he explores further in later novels, like the special hell that ensues from choosing the wrong partner in marriage, and how the life we lead marks our bodies. I keep replaying the portrayal of Margaret in the Prologue: her face “parchment over bone,” her “eyesockets sunk so deeply that they looked at first glance like the eyeless hollows of a skull,” and yet in her eyes “the life that had dried gradually out of her body…a sudden and violent blue, filmless and clear, and hard as ice. Her body was the body of a woman of sixty, her eyes those of a woman of thirty. Actually she was forty-seven.”
Loved this book and read it twice. Going for Stegner’s The Big Rock Candy Mountain next. Candy is right.