A Lovely, Creepy Read: Book Review of Doris Lessing's The Fifth Child

 

The Fifth Child by Doris Lessing
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

In Doris Lessing’s The Fifth Child, Harriet and David bond and marry over their mutual desire for a traditional marriage and large family. They are righteously against the British counterculture of the 1960s, with its sexual freedom and distaste for marriage.

Their families become suspicious when Harriet and David purchase a large home outside of the city, wondering how many children the couple intends to have. Between Harriet and David, they can’t agree on an exact number, but it grows larger and larger. When the couple has four children in short order, much quicker than even they had planned, their families think them irresponsible. Truly, they cannot provide for themselves without financial assistance, and with Harriet so often pregnant, they also depend on help with the children. However, the boisterous atmosphere created in their home makes it the ideal place for the extended family to gather during holidays, and all begin to appreciate and enjoy what Harriet and David created.

Then comes Ben, the eponymous character of the book. And the fifth child is a doozy. In utero, Ben begins tormenting his mother, growing quickly and painfully, kicking and doing harm to her already exhausted body. One of his first actions after birth is to painfully chomp her breast when she tries to feed him. He is not cuddly and does not seem to want to be cuddled. His appearance, too, is monstrous, being described as looking like a goblin or a troll.

Ben is a murderous and terrifying child who frightens his siblings away. He seems not to understand human kindness and civility. Quickly, the extended family is not so interested in visiting and the question becomes what to do about Ben.

The Fifth Child reminded me a good deal of We Need to Talk About Kevin, a 2003 novel by Lionel Shriver, told from the point of view of a mother of a teenage boy who committed a mass killing at his high school. It is an epistolary story, written from the mother, Eva, to her husband, considering how their son has gotten to this point. Eva explains how she never bonded with her son and suspected him of maliciousness starting when he was a baby. She details her resentment at the expectation that she should push her career aside to take care of Kevin. At times Eva blames herself for Kevin’s bad behavior, pointing to her inability to build affection between herself and her son. At other times, she notes how she tried to love and accept him and still he sought to stomp on the joy of others, committing malicious acts when he saw someone else showing passion about something, as when he doused a room with red ink, after Eva laboriously decorated it with souvenirs and memorabilia from her travels. She believes that the young child knew what the decorations meant to her and that he delighted in the pain he caused. She cannot be sure, but suspicions about what motivates his behavior linger.

Similarly, Harriet feels guilty for not being able to connect with Ben. She knows that something is wrong with him, but the medical professionals will not confirm it. She feels blamed for his inhuman qualities, and sometimes she is blamed for the nature of her son. She tries to love him and struggles between her duty to Ben who needs so much more attention and her typical children, who seem better able to cope with less attention.

A Google search proved that I was not the only one to make the connection between The Fifth Child and We Need to Talk About Kevin. In Lynda Woodroffe’s review of The Fifth Child in Contemporary Psychotherapy, Woodroffe highlights that as the finger points at Harriet, no one blames David. Eva has a similar realization—in the eyes of others, it is always the mother’s fault.

An important difference between Eva’s relationship with Kevin versus Harriet’s relationship with Ben is that Eva becomes obsessed trying to figure out if Kevin is acting cruelly, whereas Harriet does not assume cruelty, exactly, nor does she develop a cat and mouse game with Ben--her suspicions being that he is not quite human.

Other sources suggest that Ben represents the burdens of motherhood—the stress, anxiety, and physical and mental tolls of raising children. Under such maternal labor, Harriet becomes less available to her husband and less easy going in general. She is not the pleasant, happy person people want her to be. With how quickly she has her children, her body is as worn as her nerves. A truism of motherhood: it changes a woman’s body, mental state, and emotions.

In an interview featured on Web of Stories, Doris Lessing explains that the idea of Ben originated in a contemplation of changeling stories. Fairy tales tell of fairies swapping out their own babies for human babies, leaving the human parents with a child that is not theirs. Lessing pondered what would happen if someone did end up with a child who was not theirs. She also explained that she sees Ben more as a pre-homo sapiens, who, in our times is out of place, but would have fit in during his time period. He is not a monster, he is just in the wrong context.

Regardless of the author’s original intentions, Ben strikes a nerve with the reader. Because of his differences, he requires more care than the other children, and at the same time does not give affection or any other satisfaction to his mother. Perhaps this is another fear that plays out in The Fifth Child--that mothers will receive no reward, not affection or gratitude from their child, not even pride in their accomplishments, that instead, children will ghoulishly demand all and leave their mothers with nothing.

Would I teach this novel? Yes. It is short, strange, and haunting, while at the same time being ripe for multiple interpretations. In the parlance of my literature courses, it offers many literary puzzles for some potentially interesting essays.

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A Lovable Mary Sue: Book Review of Summer Island

 

Summer Island by Shelley Noble
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Thank you to William Morrow and GoodReads Giveaways for providing me with a review copy of Shelley Noble’s Summer Island, with the expectation of a fair and honest review.

Phoebe sees herself as happy: she has a handsome fiancé who owns the small town paper to which she has given over most of her adult life and she has her job at the paper. But when her fiancé gives the unexpected news that he is shutting down the paper, she loses both on the same day. Now Phoebe has no job, no place to live, and she learns that her father has left her mother for another woman.

With no other place to go, Phoebe and her mother, Ruth, head for the island where Ruth grew up and her mother, Alice, still lives. Once there, they find Alice and her sister Vera, the ever moving and ever energetic font of fun adventures.

Next door to Alice, Lars has sunken deep into grief over the loss of his wife. Out of concern, his sons have elected Ty, the only single one, to look after him and bring him out of his depression. Any assistance or comfort Ty offers is hampered by Lars's inability to see Ty for the successful engineer that he is, thinking, instead, that he is unemployed and indigent. When the two men become subsumed by the whirl of women next door, Ty is grateful and Lars grumpily acquiesces.

While other characters have a voice in the novel, Phoebe’s is decidedly the strongest. She is inquisitive and curious as well as being an accomplished journalist. More importantly, she uses her powers for good, seeking to amplify the voices of those doing good things for her community, like the veteran who converts cars into homes for other veterans. She is not in it for her own glory, but rather for where she can help shine a light.

As the pink cover clearly communicates, there is indeed romance in the novel, but the book is more about the characters living their truths.

Would I teach Summer Island? It is an enjoyable, light read. It has a strong female protagonist who is very likable. Perhaps too likable. Phoebe never really does anything wrong. Her inquisitiveness is not too-too and she is ever kind and thoughtful. Would that she were able to make a poor or selfish decision! Alas, she is too good. Due to the lack of crossover between who is good and who is bad I would probably not teach this novel.

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Pandemic Murder Mystery: Book Review of Cate Holahan's The Darkness of Others

 

The Darkness of Others by Cate Holahan
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Thank you to Grand Central Publishing and GoodReads for providing a review copy of Cate Holahan’s The Darkness of Others in exchange for a fair and honest review.

The Darkness of Others is a murder mystery told from multiple points-of-view, but the main view points come from three women: Melissa, whose husband has been shot dead and she is now being held captive by his murderer; Tonya, a single mother who finds herself homeless and jobless in the middle of the pandemic; and Imani, a therapist married to a restaurateur and who is best friends with the missing widow. Of the three women, Imani owns the story. She is the only one who can save her best friend and solve the mystery—the cops consider the mystery solved, believing Melissa murdered her husband and is now in hiding from the authorities. Only Imani knows better, believing her friend would never willingly abandon her daughter.

In addition to Imani dealing with the loss of her best friend’s husband and the worry for her best friend's safety, she learns that her husband has borrowed against their house in order to stay in business and then he offers an employee their guest room, as she and her daughter have been evicted from their apartment. Enter Tonya, having to uncomfortably live off of the kindness of strangers.

As the story unfolds and secrets are revealed, one betrayal leads to another and the connections between the women might be the only thing that saves them.

The early pandemic lends a backdrop of fear: a time when we knew masks and social distancing could help keep people safe, and so we created our small, social pods. Those with health problems or “underlying conditions” as we were taught to call them, had to look out for themselves. It was not clear who would follow the rules and who would not and mask etiquette was also in question. Strangers feared each other as possible carriers of the virus.

Added to that background of fear is the unsolved murder and the missing woman, plus the mistrust of police officers. Imani must care for her home, her children, and her job. She is the one who supports other stressed out mothers through telehealth. In this way, the book is a kind of recording of mothers’ struggles during pandemic.

In fact, the entire book can be seen as a study of women’s relationships and the vulnerability that surrounds them. The ways in which women fear and distrust each other and the ways in which women can boost each other up. Also, stinky men.

Would I teach The Darkness of Others? I can see a place for teaching this book as an examination of how to incorporate recent history into books or how to create a thematic conversation with a murder mystery plot. The book becomes a bit problematic in the denouement, after all has been revealed, in matching up the ending with the clues that have been dropped throughout. The imperfections in the wrapping up of the book are a good learning opportunity for writers.

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How to Hook 'Em: Book Review of Much Ado About Nothing

 

Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Before students read Much Ado About Nothing, they assume that they are not going to like it. William Shakespeare is boring, the plays are old, the Old English incomprehensible. It does not take them many pages into Much Ado About Nothing to change their minds. (For the record--Shakespearean or Elizabethan English is not Old English or even Middle English. It is Modern English. Though some of the vocabulary and language usage has changed, the sentence structure and majority of the words sound and look similar. With some good notes, such as those included in the Folger Shakespeare Library Editions, with a little practice the reader can parse out the dialogue and plot).

In point of fact, they need only read as far as Beatrice’s initial roasting of Benedick and his war prowess to realize that the play is going to be fun. Much Ado About Nothing is an excellent introduction to Shakespeare. With my limited ability to include Shakespeare in my curriculum, it is one of two plays I teach, the other being Hamlet, which I will discuss in a separate review of that play.

In Act I of Much Ado About Nothing, Hero and Claudio quickly get engaged. To entertain them until their wedding day, it is suggested that all take on the challenge of making a match between sworn enemies Beatrice and Benedick, both of whom are also sworn enemies of marriage. Amidst their meddling, the villain of the play plots to break Hero and Claudio apart. The threat could break them all.

Much Ado About Nothing is a comedy, and while it does have many comical moments, what defines a Shakespearean comedy is not its humor but other common characteristics, such as the general plot and especially the ending. No one dies and there is a happy ending—at least in terms of Shakespeare’s time. A comedy is a confirmation of life in the marriage(s) that result and the impending families that are begun. While there are no sequels, we can guess at the happily ever after.

As a comedy, Much Ado About Nothing has elements of trickery, deception, and mistaken identity. There are lots of instances of people overhearing and sometimes misunderstanding what they have heard, which brings more heartache than comedy.

Beatrice and Benedick, though more Beatrice, are the stars of the show. Beatrice, as aforementioned, begins with some sick burns. After making it abundantly clear that she does not like Benedick, a messenger, being captain obvious, observes, “I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.” Beatrice, ever at the ready, responds, “No. An he were, I would burn my study.” Perhaps not the worst option.

The play’s other couple, Claudio and Hero, have a much bumpier ride and students are usually unsatisfied with how that story rolls up at the end. Claudio, let us say, is a bit of a stink.

Would I teach this book? Yeah, and nearly every year. Every time is a pleasure, a marvel at the writing and at the difficulties of the women, even the ones near the top of the societal heap. Please PM me if you are interested in the close reading assessment I assign with this play.

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A Rookie Murder Mystery: Book Review of The Resemblance

 

The Resemblance by Lauren Nossett
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Thank you to Flatiron Books and GoodReads Giveaways, who provided me with an ARC of The Resemblance by Lauren Nossett, which I received in exchange for a fair and honest review.

As the only female detective on the police force in Athens, GA; Marlitt has been relegated to safe investigations. When she steps onto the crime scene of a hit-and-run on the University of Georgia campus, she is determined to make the case hers, and it is an intriguing case from the start.

Jay Kemp was a member of an exclusive fraternity at UGA--until he was run over by his own car with someone else at the wheel. And according to witnesses, that someone else looked very much like Jay—and he made no attempt to slow down, instead accelerating with a smile on his face.

As Marlitt investigates the crime, she becomes convinced that it was no accident, and somehow, Jay’s fraternity is involved. Her suspicions and her fervor to solve the case are fueled by a resentment towards fraternities she developed while she was in college.

Pursuing the case in unorthodox ways, Marlitt's actions quickly come to the attention of influential people, including the president of the college, whose son just happens to be a member of Jay’s fraternity. When Marlitt is warned that she must not investigate the fraternity, but focus only on the murder, she goes even deeper into her determination and her resolve to find the killer at any cost.

Marlitt is an interesting case study of an only child. We meet her just before the accident, in her mother’s office on the UGA campus, where she spent a good amount of her childhood watching her mother speak with students and colleagues, often feeling lonely as the only kid in the room. She felt isolated from her peers and her father’s extreme anxiety about Marlitt’s safety isolated her further. Longing for a sibling, Marlitt has found companionship and a sense of family in her partner on the force, Teddy, who comes from a loving family. To her, Teddy is the brother she never had, and they spend time together outside of work, with Teddy’s girlfriend as part of the crew.

Although Marlitt lives in the same town with her parents, she rarely visits them and feels the burden of their worries for her. When Marlitt is forced to go home, her discomfort levels are palpable.

Would I teach this book? Female cops as narrators offer a lot of opportunities for plot and insight. The Greek system can be intriguing because it is so secretive. And, of course, a look alike murderer and victim? Yes, please. Nossett has a good imagination. However, it feels like there is some polishing that could be done with the plot.

First, Marlitt has to recuperate (I won’t reveal from what) and she is “better” way too quickly. When she decides to make some moves without the blessing of her boss, she seems to have no concern that what she is doing might actually harm the case rather than help it. The sequence of the events gets a little fuzzy at times, too.

This is Nossett’s first novel, and it is a good first round. The Resemblance is a fun and intriguing read.

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Teach This Book: Review of The Adventures of Rabbi Harvey by Steve Sheinkin

 

The Adventures of Rabbi Harvey: A Graphic Novel of Jewish Wisdom and Wit in the Wild West by Steve Sheinkin
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I chose The Adventures of Rabbi Harvey for summer reading this year (2022). Students read the graphic novel and wrote their own comics on the topic of “advice.”

Steve Sheinkin’s The Adventures of Rabbi Harvey has been on my short list for summer reading for awhile, and one of my seniors requested it. It is a good choice not just because it is light and funny but also because it gives students a glance at a different culture and religion.

Sheinkin retells Jewish folktales in the setting of America’s old West. Rabbi Harvey is the clever protagonist, outwitting everyone and helping to support his community. Part sheriff and part congregational rabbi, he helps solve disputes and teaches people lessons.

In my students' favorite story, "Rabbi Harvey: Bearded Chicken," which is based on “The Turkey Prince,” Rabbi Harvey takes on a boy convinced he is a chicken. It becomes his job to bring the boy back from sitting naked under the table, clucking and pecking at crumbs—which the rabbi does by stripping down and joining him under the table. Hilarity ensues. By far, it was students’ favorite story.

One student was irritated by the silliness of the stories. The book is clearly aimed at younger children, but there is plenty for more sophisticated readers to dig into. For example, considering the overlap of the Jewish culture with the culture of the old West. Or how these tales fit in with other folktales or how logic is used (or misused) in the stories.

Would I teach this book? Well, yes, because I did, and I am glad I did. Students appreciated the book for many of the same reasons I did—the humor, yes, but also the depiction of a community that unites around a rabbi and looks to get along and maintain cohesion. They might, on occasion, try to cheat each other, but the threat of being on the outs is enough to make people back down or repent.

By the way—this year’s comics are incredible. Good work, students.


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A Parent's Worst Nightmare: Book Review of Stephen King's Doctor Sleep

Doctor Sleep by Stephen King
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Thank you, again, to my parents, who bought me Stephen King’s Doctor Sleep to read while my family was in Covid isolation. It offered a good respite, and I appreciate it.

Most Americans know of The Shining, at least the Stanley Kubrick movie, even if they don’t know it was a book first. The famous scene of Jack Nicholson sticking his head through the door he just broke through with an ax and saying, “Here’s Johnny!” is enough to give any kid nightmares. The sequel, Doctor Sleep, is enough to give any parent nightmares.

Dan Torrence, no longer Danny, cannot stay in one place because he cannot hold a job. Between his alcoholism and his temper, Dan finds himself causing trouble in many different places, until he finally lands in Frazier, New Hampshire. There, he gets sober through Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), gets a job at a hospice facility, and sets roots. As those roots deepen, Dan begins to hear from Abra, a young girl who, like him, has the shining, or the ability to tap into other people’s minds, make contact with the dead, and have premonitions.

Abra’s powers go far beyond Dan’s, a scary amount, and her abilities bring her into opposition with the True Knot, a band of immortals who murder children who have the shining and feed off their essence. When Abra realizes the danger she is in, she reaches out to the only person she knows who might understand and believe her--Dan.

Doctor Sleep is slow, taking time to bring the reader through Dan’s alcoholism to sobriety, to show the beginning of Abra’s life through to her adolescence, and to introduce some of the members of the True Knot and their lives. King takes care to bring the audience into Dan’s life, learning his struggles with drinking and anger, how he tries to use his powers for good and prevent himself from being driven mad by them.

In Stephen King’s “Author’s Note” after the final chapter, he discusses how part of the idea for the sequel came about when he thought about how things might have turned out differently for Jack, the father in The Shining, if he had joined Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). AA plays powerfully through Dan’s life, not only changing his behavior and relationship to his shining, but also the friendships that will save him. King also uses AA sayings to punctuate the books of the novel. It reminded me of his candid discussion on his own alcohol and drug abuse which he discusses in On Writing, which is both a reflection on writing and a memoir. (I highly recommend reading it, especially for writers).

Would I teach this book? I can see teaching this book in a few different cases, for example in a class on monsters or writing sequels. It is definitely entertaining, and it creates real characters that hit the heart of the reader. There is plot, there is conflict, there is real danger. There is the supernatural, as King almost always does.

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