A friend recommended this book because it takes place in my
home state of Virginia, but, as I’ve discovered previously, just because I’m
familiar with the setting doesn’t necessarily make it a great read. (See https://yourbrainonbooks.blogspot.com/2016/09/commonwealth.html)
Published in 2015, Mislaid by Nell Zink, who grew up
in rural Virginia, may be one of the most bizarre novels I’ve ever read. The
plot itself is bizarre enough, as a lesbian student at a women’s college marries
the resident gay male poet and bears two children by him. She finally leaves him, taking their daughter
with her, and hides out in rural Virginia changing their names and passing
themselves off as black, not for the same reason as Rachel Dolezal (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rachel_Dolezal),
but because she doesn’t want her husband to find her. This unfolds in just the first three
chapters, and so it continues with one bizarre episode after another.
Set during the 1960’s, serious issues, such as gender,
sexuality, race, class, power and privilege, are addressed, but they are somewhat
overshadowed by the bizarre plot and outlandish humor. There are laugh-out-loud lines on almost
every page, which makes for great entertainment but distracts from the social
commentary.
Here’s a small sample of some of those LOL lines:
“Around age fourteen, it got more complicated. She informed
her best friend, Debbie, that she intended to join the army out of high school.
She knew Debbie from Girl Scout camp. Debbie was from Richmond, a large and
diverse city. ‘You’re a thespian,’ Peggy heard her say. ‘Get away from me.’
Debbie picked up her blanket and moved to the other side of the room…Betrayal.
Debbie never spoke to her again. Peggy told her mother.
‘A
thespian,” her mother said, bemused. ‘Well, darling, everybody gets crushes.’
Her mother was from the generation that thought a girl’s first love is always a
tomboyish older girl…Her mother suspected her of having a girlfriend, already
and sent off for brochures to Radcliffe. She didn’t believe in coeducation, but
her daughter’s plight called for desperate measures.”
“To look at him, Temple was about as black as a person could
get, as though the school were hoping to pack as much blackness as possible
into each ‘token black’ seat in each of his successive integrated
classrooms. Initially he was chosen his
mannerly comportment and tidy clothes and resented only for making it
impossible for his classmates to win at Eraser Walk. The eraser nestled in his hair like an egg in
a nest. He could have hopped to the
blackboard on one foot. The class voted
never to play Eraser Walk again. One by one, his superior achievements were
acknowledged with surrender. He called it, raising the white flag’.”
“The ghost-like, flaxen-haired black child was almost a
matter of civic pride. They hoped she would stay in the county and marry a
light-skinned, blue-eyed man to found one of those conversation-piece
dynasties.”
“He was the democratically elected head prosecutor of the
city of Charlottesville. Since victims
outnumber criminals, he favored victims. He knew there is no such thing as a
victimless crime. Whatever casual drug users might say. A person whose harmless
actions are criminalized becomes a victim of the law. That paradox helped him
out every day by showing him the unreality of his job.”
“Still, she insisted on living with Temple, explaining to Lee
that with him around she could always be assured of finding leftover pizza in
the refrigerator. She would never have to cook. Lee admitted it was a strong
argument.”
Humor can sometimes mask offensive stereotypes, and such is
the case with this novel, despite its ostensibly liberal treatment of social
issues. I grew up in Virginia during the
1960’s and never experienced anything approximating the world of this novel,
though the depiction of class rang true.
So, read it if you will, but don’t take it as a realistic representation
of Virginia or the South in general.
