In the early stages of reading Ann Patchett's Run, I wondered how the novel had become a best-seller, and if, perhaps, its popularity stemmed solely from the author's previous success with her 2002 novel, Bel Canto, which sold over one million copies, won the PEN/Faulkner Award and was named the Book Sense Book of the Year. The eight main characters (Bernadette, Bernard, Sullivan, Sullivan Sr., Teddy, Tip, Tennessee, and Kenya) are introduced hastily enough that one almost needs a guide to make sense of which is which, especially considering how the voices of the characters overlap and how similar the names themselves are. Initially, there is very little to like about any of these characters and not enough individuality on the page to hold one's interest about them, regardless. In fact, when one of the characters dies within the first thirty pages, the distance Patchett has created between reader and character is so great, that the death is affectless. So, it came as an absolute surprise to me when, some one-hundred pages later, I suddenly found myself caring about the fates of these characters. I actually looked up from my book and asked aloud, "when did that happen" and then, "how did she do that?" Some writers continue to be best-sellers because of their reputations from previous books or because a pop icon hails their latest work; some are best-sellers because their writing is simply that good. Ann Patchett is the later.
Run covers two winterly Boston days, during which the lives of two families collide, literally, and forever change. Tip and Teddy Doyle, the African-American, twenty-something, adopted sons of the Anglo former-mayor, Bernard Doyle, find themselves being dragged, once again, to a political speech. Bernard hopes the speech will inspire his sons to pursue careers in politics -- that is, the two sons who might be viable candidates, not the biological one, Sullivan Jr., whose long-ago "accident" still haunts him. Teddy, who plans to become a priest like his uncle, Sullivan Sr., has no problem placating Bernard by attending such a rally. Tip, however, finds Bernard's constant coaxing offensive and leaves the speech ranting at his father. In his blind anger, Tip doesn't see the car headed for him.
Had it not been for the courageous shove of one woman, Tip would have been hit by the car and, most likely, died. Consequently, the brave, African-American Tennessee Moser is severely injured, unconscious and hospitalized, leaving her young daughter, Kenya, temporarily orphaned. The Doyles deliberate about what to do with this stranger's child and worry about the legal implications of bringing Kenya home with them. That's when Kenya, who's been instructed since birth to keep a secret, informs the Doyles that she isn't truly a stranger to them.
Not once in this novel is Ann Patchett heavy-handed and yet she manages to evoke complicated questions about race and identity. She allows the story to speak for itself rather than use her characters as talking heads. The plot, one might assume, is predictable. Based entirely on the summary above, one might guess the relationship between Kenya and the Doyles. This novel, however, doesn't play into simple stereotypes and it is anything but predictable. Patchett delivers the kind of plot twists that not only heighten the suspense and propel the story forward, but, unlike red herrings, also deepen the meaning of her work. The way in which she intricately weaves together the lives of her characters causes the reader to ask, "what does this mean for Tip/Bernard/Teddy/Kenya?" and to be genuinely concerned about the answer to that question. More importantly though, long after the last sentence has been read, one will ponder the implications of his or her subverted expectations and the broader meaning of this important book.
Can a novel be both entertaining and thought provoking? With Run, Ann Patchett answers, "yes."