This book is profound, beautiful, disturbing, real, intimate, and shatteringly true. Judith Freeman describes the world, especially the landscape of the West, with tender and accurate language. Equally so, she summons the inner worlds of characters with empathy and sharp insight. She lays bare the deepest hidden territories without flinching. To be so real about relationships takes digging ‘into a wound that is still infected,’ as she writes at one point. To be so good at this kind of humane excavation takes decades of reading and listening and looking, and her characters bring their books and art and music and suffering and illumination along with them. Some readers might chafe at the number of quotes and references but I would urge patience. It all adds up.
I connected with the point-of-view character, Verna, because of the low-grinding fear that she carries: Because she’s had a long marriage, and has made the concessions specific to that marriage, and because she’s lived a quiet, isolated life… for these reasons, she fears she has not been worldly enough, and especially not feminist enough. She has not shaken the training to be nice, to live for others.
“I saw how at times I said things to make others feel better. Things I perhaps didn’t fully believe or that reeked of the easy sentiment. I said these things looking for love, for acceptance and safety. Trying to balance the world around me, as I had seen women forever do. I saw what a horrible amount of work this was. But what, I wondered, would happen if I learned to wait—to test my feelings first, and value them, so that I could know what I wanted to do before the need arose to act in some circumscribed way?”
Verna’s re-assessment of her life plays out in the central conflict of the book, the re-connection with her childhood friend Jolene. They are superficially best friends until divorce, upended lives, and then Jolene’s approaching death by cancer force them together. They take a road trip from L.A. to Salt Lake, a road trip that is anything but an easy buddy movie, and anything but an easy Western narrative (though there is love of horses, there is sage, there is mountain majesty… and there are black crows on the roadside, their wings “shellacked with sunlight.” There is the Great Salt Lake, shimmering with “with tiny scallops of juddering light.”)
The conflict expands from two white women wrestling with their legacies to the battles playing out in the literal Nevada mine fields and in the broader American gun battles, waged in the city streets, waged in battles abroad, waged by corporations over human bodies and the poor.
This a big book. This is a book I needed to read to feel even more, learn even more, regret even more, be inspired even more, now at this point in this century. Highly recommend.