There’s a horrible irony to the jubilant exclamation Emily makes when she and John LaCroix are about to meet with the ship that will take them to Canada—“Now we shall be entirely free!”—and it’s almost painful to consider that this woman who has so ably and clear-sightedly (!) born the innovative surgery to her fast failing eyes has somehow remained blind to their circumstances. While LaCroix and Emily may find for themselves a new life in Canada, Miller suggests that they will never be entirely free; the decay/corruption of her vision and his moral being has only been arrested, and they will the rest of their lives carry on with debilities.
Now We Shall Be Entirely Free is a stark and clear-headed, plainspoken novel, even as Miller early on obscures John LaCroix’s culpability for the English soldiers’ killing and rape of Spanish civilians in the village of Morales in 1809. There are in the outlines of this story only a handful of characters, and while they operate with their own fully-fleshed agency, they are figures in a morality play that spares no one, and only offers as succor the appearance of a flight into freedom.
Aware of the moral collapse and monstrous actions of the infantry under his command during the retreat of English forces from northern Spain, John LaCroix survives illness and the transport back to England and to his family’s estate. He is nursed over several weeks by a single domestic, Nell, because the estate is empty, LaCroix’s parents dead, and his two sisters married, living elsewhere. His body recovers, but his silence betokens some other wound not healed. Meanwhile, outside his ken, political/martial forces in Spain mount a quasi-moral restitution for the destruction of Morales, and LaCroix is chosen to be the scapegoat. Corporal Calley, a fierce infantryman with only simple animal instincts (and deemed “born to be unloved”), is given the covert assignment to track LaCroix and kill him, taking with him a representative from the Spanish army to certify that the agreed retribution has been carried out.
Of the two furies, English-speaking Spanish officer Medina is the more humane, but he is obliged to merely accompany the sour, single-minded Calley in their pursuit of LaCroix. Miller handles well the twined stories of hunter and hunted, and while LaCroix is unaware till late in the novel that he is being pursued, the reader is continually, anxiously aware of an eventual convergence. One striking coincidence in their separate sojourns is the arrival of LaCroix at the homestead of a splinter group of free-thinkers on a Scottish isle and Calley and Medina’s meet-up with the leader and a group of those free-thinkers in Wales. LaCroix and Medina sense the freedoms promised by these proto-hippies and each is able to re-assess their past and the war they’ve fought in distant Spain from a novel perspective. Calley, on the other hand, cannot abide nor understand what these nature-loving ponces are on about…
In Glasgow, shortly after Emily’s second surgery on her failing eyes, she and LaCroix learn from one of the victims of Calley’s interrogations that he (LaCroix) is being hunted down. LaCroix and Emily have been tentatively assuming things of one another, but this becomes a moment of truth, and LaCroix must reveal to her his shameful part in the bloody debacle at Morales. Thereafter, the story describes a race back to the small isle to prevent harm to Emily’s family and the grim, inevitable convergence of the implacable executioner and the contigently guilty.
Miller tells a good story, one that bears re-reading for the concrete novelties that bestrew LaCroix’s path as he tries to escape the spectres of his mind. Similarly, the interchanges between Calley and Medina, two mismatched souls charged with LaCroix’s execution, are verbally spare but charged with the disparity of their perceptions. Even as Miller has stripped away the dross to make this novel an elemental story of crime, vengeance, and absolution, he’s contrived ways to infuse tension, dread, remorse, and hope. As an early 19th century Romantic might say, “It’s sublime.”