An interesting experience which really validates the concept of our book club: I'm pretty sure this is a book I wouldn't have chosen to read otherwise, but I'm glad I did. I enjoyed it a great deal.

It's a very "warm" book. The narrative voice is intimate and personal, and I really feel like I've shared something with the author and her characters. And it's also a challenging book: it challenges you to ask whether the position of women in Canadian and American society has really changed that much if lists of famous authors, thinkers, and artists can be 100% male and nobody notices; whether young women growing up today really feel like they have as much opportunity as men do; whether it's compatible with feminism for someone to be a warm, loving mother and wife.

It's also a book about writing. Throughout the book, the reader follows Reta's challenges in writing a sequel novel to her first surprise hit novel, and her struggle to balance lightness with depth, to make her characters continue to come alive and develop despite corners she unknowingly painted them into in her prior novel, and to stay true to her intentions despite pressure from a new passive-aggressive editor.

The book jacket claims it's a book about a woman whose eldest daughter has mysteriously chosen to live as a homeless person on the streets of Toronto, and I suppose that's as true as Moby Dick is a book about a whale, but the description trivializes the fact that so little of the writing deals with the daughter directly; her flight onto the streets is really just the catalyst for the real story, which occurs in her mother's thoughts and feelings, assumptions about her family, and way she sees the world as a troublesome vs. welcoming place.

I love reading about creative people and their process, so that carried me through the book. The story of Norah went flat and was a bit of a disappointment. I guess it was more about Reta's reactions than it was about the daughter anyway.

Originally published on my blog here in August 2003.

I have started several of last year's Booker Prize short-listed novels, but this is the first which I have felt a desire to read more than the first few pages. (I have not yet attempted Yaan Martel's [b:Life of Pi|4214|Life of Pi|Yann Martel|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1320562005s/4214.jpg|1392700], the winner.) The ones I put aside seemed no more than pale imitations of other writers, notably [a:V.S. Naipaul|3989|V.S. Naipaul|http://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1193773119p2/3989.jpg], while Unless was able to speak to me with a voice of its own almost immediately. This is precisely why I was looking out for the half dozen short listed novels, in the hope of finding something new to enjoy. I read Unless and wrote this review before hearing of Shields' death; it made me feel that I had discovered her only just in time.

Every parent knows that eventually their child will leave them for a life of their own. For Reta Winters, middle aged author and narrator of Unless, the departure of her eldest daughter Norah has been more sudden, unusual and traumatic than most. For Norah has dropped out of life almost entirely, leaving her university course and boyfriend as well as her family to spend her days sitting on a street corner with a sign on her lap bearing the single word "GOODNESS". She won't talk to her family about her reasons for doing this, so they are left to speculate about what has gone wrong (something which comes fairly easily to the rather self-absorbed Reta) and what, if anything, can be done.

Unless is set in Toronto, something which (as Reta at one point remarks) is no longer expected to limit the market for a novel, and I was occasionally reminded of another first person narrative set in the city, Margaret Atwood's [b:Cat's Eye|51019|Cat's Eye|Margaret Atwood|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1320478072s/51019.jpg|1019987]. Though both also share a feminist outlook (for some time Reta is convinced that Norah's withdrawal from the world is caused by a realisation that as a woman she won't ever get as good a deal from the world as an otherwise similar man.) Nevertheless is not as hard-edged as Atwood's writing, though it does have something of a similar air (possibly a consequence of the location and feminist sympathy already mentioned). Something which is different is that Atwood's style has the intention of convincing the reader of the sincerity of the narrator, while Sheilds makes you think that Reta manages to manifest contradictory emotions, as serene and self-observing prose proclaims violent distress and overwhelming concern for another. Nobody, of course, is completely consistent, and the contrast is obviously partly a coping strategy and partly due to guilt over her role in Norah's withdrawal, whatever that might be.

Unless has one feature which is extremely unusual. The headings of the chapters, like the novel's overall title, are single words, all prepositions and conjunctions rather than the nouns and verbs which would usually fill such a role. For me, this has the effect of giving the narrative a wistful note, though I'm not at all sure why this is. The novel generally feels similar to one of my other favourites of recent years, Arundhati Roy's [b:The God of Small Things|9777|The God of Small Things|Arundhati Roy|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1166054170s/9777.jpg|810135]. Unless is magical to read - and makes me intrigued as to what The Life of Pi must have in order to have persuaded the Booker judges to choose it rather than this novel as the winner.

If you ever had an internal debate about some facet of who you are, you should read this book. Carol Shield touches on ideas, thoughts, fleeting feelings that many of us have but are not able to articulate. Lovely, well written, timeless and a definite re-read. I feel that everyone in college should read this book at least once - to have read this when you felt confused and angry about your place in the world would bring relief that your feelings are valid and felt by others.

Review to follow.