Margaret Laurence. The Fire Dwellers (1969) We eavesdrop on Stacey MacAindra, married to a salesman, with four children, over a few weeks while she tries to cope with increasing despair. She has a brief fling with a young man in a beach house, discovers that her husband’s bullying boss is an old schoolmate, a fraud who’s reinvented himself into an empty shell. When Duncan, the younger son, nearly drowns, she realises that Mac and eldest son Ian share a laconic code that’s as expressive of their deepest emotions as her more loquacious interior monologue,. Finally, she reconnects with her husband. But she’s still afraid for her children, and has to accept that she can’t protect them from every danger, real or imagined, that looms on the horizon of her mind.
She’s managed to endure a crisis that threatened a nervous breakdown. That’s some achievement, when you think about it. It’s also what we all have to do from time to time, and some of us don’t have the resilience to manage self-doubt, childhood baggage, fear of the future, obsessive worry, and all the other psychic perils entailed in being human. Beautifully written, a classic that I didn’t read when it first appeared. I don’t think I would have understood it back then, actually. The writing, a mix of stream-of-consciousness, first person point of view, and omniscient narrator, is superb. ****
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