October 25, 2010
Room: A Novel by Emma Donoghue is a one-of-a-kind literary marvel, a masterpiece of narrative voice that held me in an emotional push and pull of horror and hope. Told completely from the point of view of a very smart but extremely "sheltered" five-year old, Jack's story reveals everything about his mother, their situation, and their relationship through innocently honest assessments of his daily life. What is normal for him is way beyond endurable for the reader, and yet because he is a five-year old, there are snatches of typical childlike humor and outbursts of frustration, alongside the much-less than typical (thankfully) impressions of a life spent imprisoned within four walls. What is so creepy about these impressions is that although the reader recognizes them for what they are -- realities of extreme abuse -- for Jack they are routine.
Jack's mother is the rock upon which Jack builds his life, and Jack is the island of innocence upon which his mother draws her strength. In this way, their relationship is symbiotic. Many parents will find parallels in their own lives: the joy, humor, and hope that kids give back in return for our love and care. But adults must also protect their children from danger and unpleasantness; in this way, the parent /child relationship is one of responsibility, where the worst parts of the world are kept hidden until the child is old enough to bear the knowledge. In the case of Jack's mother, the horrors are personal, and the worst is experienced every day and night. The hidden truth of their existence is a burden she bears to keep her son safe, physically and mentally. As Jack grows, it becomes more and more difficult to keep the truth hidden, and eventually, the world, with all its truth-baring abilities, must find a way to break down the walls and find them. But will Jack and his mother be saved by the world, or condemned?
Jack's mother is a complex and very real character, an inspiring fount of love and care, a woman of resilience and strength who stands at the precipice of despair, held back on the cliff by the pull of Jack's hand, and taunted downward into the void by the reality of the abuses she has suffered. I have rarely been so engaged by a character, so sick to my stomach with wanting to help her and protect her, and so achingly hopeful for her ultimate survival, and for Jack's. Children love their mothers, it is both instinctual and deserved, but in the case of Jack's mother, the love she gets from Jack is not only deserved, it is the elixir of persistence upon which she feeds. Room is a stunning demonstration of the lifeline that runs between parent and child, a bond that is strong beyond measure, even when the humans on either side of the bond are fragile, damaged, and afraid.
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