Poor Jean Hubbard. She’s got a lot on her psychic plate in Attachment. Forty-six years old and facing situations typical for the first blush of middle age, she’s at the beginning of the age of loss: your youth, your parents, your offspring as dependent children, your assumption of your own hearty health, your old way of being married. Finally it dawns that being a grown-up and being mature are two separate matters entirely, the latter not flowing naturally from the other in any regard. Indeed, maturity requires giving up life as a free ride--choices you’ve made come home to roost as consequences; you’re responsible for your own happiness; the affection you don’t reciprocate goes away; love is effortful and forgiveness necessary. How Jean Hubbard negotiates her new stage of life, and because of whom, comprise this skillfully written novel.
The greatest pleasure to me about Attachment was Isabel Fonseca’s writing. Having won acclaim for a previous book of non-fiction, Bury Me Standing: The Gypsies and Their Journey, with this book she tried her hand at a novel. Particularly for a first, it’s a splendid read, the characterizations vivid and succinct, the bones of the plot covered with development sufficient to credibly sustain the story’s forward velocity, various settings used to subtly symbolize the new arrival points of Jean’s odyssey. Fonseca’s style is both efficient and thorough, her descriptions cueing the reader in just a few deft strokes. For example, “And she invested in Joe, the hoop-earringed nurse with a standout candor: a real find in this world of technical talk, shift change, and buck-passing specialization.” Such writing alone was enough to attach me to Attachment.
By the book’s end the reader knows Jean has finally correctly assessed her developmental circumstances, and there are clues given as to what she might do about them. Thankfully, it’s left to the reader’s own imagination, however, to bring Jean’s story to full conclusion. Fonseca rightly doesn’t spoon-feed an ending. I always respect an author who respects my intelligence.