Gowdy sparkles in look at the true nature of love

a review of The Romantic by Barbara Gowdy, publisher: Harper Flamingo Canada

by Moe Berg, Edmonton Journal, March 2, 2003

Readers who fell in love with Barbara Gowdy's early books, Falling Angels and We So Seldom Look On Love, but perhaps admired more than enjoyed the ambitious The White Bone, can celebrate the release of her latest novel. The Romantic finds Gowdy back in form although as a more mature and assured writer. The first half-dozen introductory paragraphs, which describe the nature of memory, are alone worth the price of this book.

Louise Virk is an unpopular, though not quite nerdy, girl. One day, her beauty-queen-turned-housewife mother leaves a note on the fridge that says, "I have gone. I am not coming back. Louise knows how to work the washing machine." This might seem improbable, except Gowdy has skilfully drawn Mrs. Virk as a cold, obsessive-compulsive malcontent whose greatest virtue as a parent is dressing Louise in the finest clothing available in the Eaton's catalogue. This may be either an unintentional or deliciously nasty swipe at the broken-down model of consumer culture motherhood circa 2003.

While her father hopes for his wife's return, Louise falls in love with her neighbour, Mrs. Richter, and devises a plan to have the more motherly appropriate woman adopt her. During her visits to their home, "I keep my responses short, out of real timidity but also in order to appear timid. I defer to Abel. Let her see that if she adopted me, I wouldn't try and hog all her attention." Eventually, Louise transfers her feelings to Mrs. Richter's adopted son Abel who, like her, exists on the periphery of the school's social system. Abel's quiet, intelligent grace overpowers the flowering Louise. The Richters move to Vancouver, but when the young couple are reunited in their late teens, they consummate their relationship. What is also confirmed is Louise's enduring love. Unfortunately for her, Abel is unable or unwilling to return her feelings in a meaningful way, and what follows is Louise's tormented struggle with her unrequited feelings.

One of Gowdy's greatest gifts is her ability to give her young characters realistic voices. Most writers make their children or teenagers far too wise and self-aware. The young Louise is perfect; her observations are quirky but simple, completely believable. She attributes her father's grief over losing his wife to his single statement, "I miss her laugh." This is extraordinarily perceptive of Gowdy. How could Louise have any other insight unless a less-talented author fed it to her? It is this kind of maturity that informs the entire book; Gowdy's characters are not constantly at a cocktail party being witty and provocative with every utterance. They are real, and that is what makes what they say incredibly interesting.

Throughout the book, Gowdy articulates the state of loneliness that infects the broken-hearted. "I'm nobody, I have nothing, I'm resigned to that. All I have is the ox-like instinct that shoves you toward the next moment. If I'm not going to jump off a cliff, and I guess I'm not, then I may as well try to make my life bearable." Later, looking out of the window of her tiny apartment, Louise thinks, "I am alone, cut off, living in an apartment whose bed, oven and phone can't be trusted." Wandering the streets of Vancouver, she says, "I have a sense of going in and out of radio frequencies as the mood of one street gives way to the next and as certain houses and stores clamour with the possibility of a life that might have been mine." These moments are punishingly depressing, pushing on a bruise we have all, at some point in our lives, borne.

Some may wonder why Louise goes on loving Abel, a continuous source of heartache. For all of his Yoda-like wisdom and innocence, Abel pays mere lip service to the suffering he causes both Louise and his family. But this book is not about Abel, it is about Louise and how she reveals the true nature of love and its possibilities. Love is about the person you love, not about what they can do for you. Louise's actions or obsession, depending on how you want to see it, suggest that true love doesn't die or fade away, that some people are like swans and mate for life. These are powerful ideas that are rarely heard in modern literature but resonate deeply in a well-told story.

The easy way out would be to have Louise seeking love wherever she might find it. But the hole left by her mother's disappearance can only be filled by an all-consuming passion. Her attempts to develop other romances are highly tentative, and it seems likely that Louise will live out her life in love with Abel. Yet, Louise ends the book stronger for her love, and one believes it has made her a better person.

The Romantic succeeds largely because it is so easy to empathize with Louise. And for all of the novel's sadness, Gowdy maintains her sense of humour and never descends into melodrama. It is an extraordinary achievement from a writer with several such achievements already to her credit. One can only hope Gowdy is merely hitting her stride.