Much as Emma Donoghue did in 2010's smash hit Room, Bret Anthony Johnston leads us through the aftermath of human captivity. But utterly unlike Room, Remember Me Like This never lets us inside the victim's head. In fact, we knew very little of what happened to Justin Campbell, who vanished one day near his home outside Corpus Christi, TX. The book opens four years after his disappearance with the news that he has been found.
Instead of shining the character spotlight on the kidnapped, Johnston rotates the narrative through the perspectives of his parents, Laura and Eric, his younger brother, Griffin, and his grandfather, Cecil. Through flashbacks, we are immersed in their surreal existence, in which one world halted the day Justin disappeared and another spins on. Justin's room remains unchanged, except for the pile of birthday and Christmas gifts his mother buys for him every year. The modest Campbell house suffers from neglect, as does the Campbell marriage. There are shadows everywhere: Laura is becoming one, present only at the Marine Lab where she volunteers; thirteen-year-old Griffin grows up in the shadow of his brother; and Eric lives a double life. It is an achingly real portrait of a family unable to grieve, yet losing hope as the years pass without word of their son. Johnston masterfully maintains the tension of this loss and hope, even as we know that Justin has been safely returned to his family.
That tension morphs from "What happened to Justin?" to "What will happen to this family now that he's back?", which is truly the premise of the novel. Upon her son's return, Laura transforms, throwing open the literal curtains in the house and the figurative curtains of her depressed state. Griffin falls in love, becoming the center of attention in someone else's world, still playing second fiddle to his older brother at home. Campbell père et fils, Eric and Cecil, turn their attention to Justin's captor, who is released on bail and remains in this sweltering, grimy, east Texas community.
I couldn't put this down until, well, I can't remember when I last had such a change of heart and brain while reading a book. I was riveted for the first two-thirds, then the tension simply spluttered out and I couldn't wait to be done with it. Because the author was so intent on not bringing us into Justin's mind, the emotions and actions of the rest of the family became repetitive to the point of exasperation. Eric and Cecil's plot was melodrama that cheapened a nuanced and intense emotional thriller, but couldn't lift the narrative from doldrums of navel-gazing that brought down the final third. The one character I most wanted to hear from, Justin, had a walk-on role in his own story. It was a strangely unsatisfying experience, yet this is tremendous, vivid writing from an author I would seek out again.
I thank Random House for an Advanced Reading Copy.