Whistle in the Dark
kicks off where most novels conclude: with what comes after the big event. Lana Maddox has recently been rescued and is safe in hospital, having been missing for four days in the Peak District National Park in central England. Rather than confusing us with a convoluted plot twist – like so many contemporary novels – Emma Healey’s newest offering sets up the mystery on the first page and then moves through a straightforward process of solving it. How very refreshing.
Lana doesn’t appear to be seriously injured physically, but her inability – or unwillingness – to fill in the gaps or even say who she was with, is worrying for her parents, Hugh and Jen. Jen, especially, is driven to imagine the very worst and we set out with her, as detective, on an emotional and sometimes uncomfortable quest to discover just what happened to her daughter. Did Lana suffer such trauma that she can’t force her mind to go back to what she experienced? Was Matthew – a boy Lana had just begun to date – involved somehow? Or was Lana involved in something unimaginable at the hands of Stephen, a member of the New Lollards Fellowship religious cult? His concerns with children ascending into hell and children ‘bringing something back’ (something evil) from experiences like Lana’s are both unsettling and bizarre. What complicates matters even more is Lana’s depression, which predates her disappearance and has manifested itself in bouts of cutting and suicidal ideation. As a gentle warning to readers sensitive to certain triggers, mental health plays a big role in this novel so this reading experience can feel like an intense one.
“I want to kill myself,” Lana tells her mother and “her voice was flat and quiet, toneless and powerful”.
Lana is a refreshing and ballsy character, but she is also strong-willed, scathing and often rude. She is resistant to her mother’s probing and is reluctant to provide desperately anxious Jen with any kind of reassurance while she struggles to establish an independent identity. Jen continues to try to be close to her daughter but Lana pulls away.
“[It was] as if she’d invited some stranger into the house, or some mythical creature, a unicorn or a griffin”.
Lana’s character is quite dark, with her looking into disturbing and morbid representations of organised religion, such as stigmata and hell. This darkness, however, is balanced by a deadpan sense of humour and some warm and tender moments with her family that are lovely to witness, and we begin to realise that underneath it all, Lana is a very sad, insecure and frightened young girl.
“I look hideous without the bandana,” said Lana.
“I’m sure it isn’t that bad.”
“You’re disregarding my feelings again. We talked about this with Dr Greenbaum.”
Jen’s situation is every parent’s worst nightmare and portrays brilliantly the difficulties in dealing with a loved one’s depression. Her journey is a painstaking one. She ‘shadows’ her daughter, following her to school and checking her Instagram profile, trying but failing to decipher her teenage mind and understand her actions.
“Lana, who wasn’t talking to her that day, wasn’t talking to her in an ordinary teenage way, or perhaps wasn’t talking to her in a troubled teenage way. How were you supposed to tell?”
As tension builds, Jen’s paranoia reaches breaking point and we start to wonder who we should really be concerned about. She begins to hallucinate, seeing a cat wandering around her home; she hears noises and whispering coming from Lana’s room; she obsesses over the meaning behind Lana’s Instagram posts; and at one point she believes Lana and Hugh are conspiring again her. In a café, one day, with her older daughter, Meg, Jen gets overly concerned about an older man and a too-young girl kissing in the corner, even considering calling the police. Another day, with Lana, she obsesses about a bag going missing from under Lana’s chair, asking repeatedly if Lana still has it. The internalness of Jen’s situation, where her thoughts go and how she tries to make sense of them, is fascinating to watch and expertly evoked by Healey.
Whistle in the Dark is about mental illness, parenthood, mother/daughter relationships and contemporary family life, but at its core, it is a gripping story about a mother’s love for her child, and her absolute refusal to allow hope to die. It is deeply affecting, and not just for mothers. Its portrayal of Jen’s struggle to stop Lana falling into a state of helplessness, and to impose some form of order in a chaotic world, will strike a chord with anyone who has loved someone. It is impossible not to feel sympathy for Jen, particularly because we are drawn into her internal monologues, right inside her mind as she tries to make sense of her reality. Despite the red herrings that emerge in this story, paying tribute to your traditional detective novel, the conclusion Healey draws is cathartic and hugely satisfying. The tension and intensity she manages to construct by the close of the novel is almost too much to bear, and by the end, I was completely exhausted.
This wonderfully constructed, intelligent and emotionally compelling novel was both a difficult and engaging read, and I absolutely loved it. Bravo, Emma Healey. 4.5 stars.