written July 1994
Like Barbara Kingsolver, Doris Betts has me reading with a pen in hand, just to underline some of the good lines. NC Poet Laureate Fred Chappell is right that it's hard for a professional reader or writer to read Betts without delight every few pages. Her apt phrases are not as often in dialogue as they are description or feelings or realizations -- Dandy comforting his grieving wife "tentatively round her ankle" (315); Christine noting that her daughter will never be more than "weekday pretty - C average - 75%" (146); Frank recognizing cliches as nasty, universal truths (122) or sitting with "silent old people said to be his parents" (310).
Like Laura Esquivel, Betts offers some wonderful visual images - like the wrecks the book opens and closes with, or Mrs. Torrido as corpse and ghost, or the surgical team disengaging themselves from an operation as if backing out of the patient's body (280). My pictures of the main characters are much less clear; I must not have been paying attention, but I still don't know what Frank looks like, though I know about his bullet wound and his furrowed brow. Jill is clearer, thanks to that great loping tail of hair she sways when she walks (33). But Cindy is hazy too - ignored for half the book then suddenly lovely - and Christine is a cartoon. Betts is at her best with Christine when she lets us hate her, but at her worst when she makes us.
What I value most about this book is its seriousness in the face of horrifying questions. Betts, mainly through the grandmother Tacey, takes religion seriously - and takes seriously both the people who cling to it and the horrors that drive them to (and away from) God. Though this book begins and ends in catastrophe and its fluids (blood, vomit, urine) and in between is one long walk into and through the valley of the shadow of death, it is mostly about the walk, not the valley; those who survive dragging one foot in front of another, not those who die. In this book, as in life, people fear death and flee it and fight it and get tired of it, but they never forget it. And if religion is about "ultimate concerns," then this book is deeply theological. Grandma Tacey and Brother Elmo (the oxymoronic evangelist-trooper) lead the meditations about inscrutable grace, spiritual flu and "conversion by the testicles" (326-7). But everyone follows Biblical patterns and ponders theological questions in this book: "Dandy sent out feeble jokes the way Noah once sent out doves to check the floodwaters" (324); Mary prays "our Mother, who art in New York, hollow be thy name" (288); she wonders if she can get into heaven with missing or extra parts, or whether Heaven is a bio-parts warehouse (292); Frank checks the cosmic ledgers and notes "by any system at all he was owed one. He was due" (36).
I didn't enjoy this book, but it made me think and would make me think more if I read it again or slower. Betts says Mary is like the capons - raised in a totally protected environment that fails. I missed that. What else did I miss?