Novels No. 61

 

Helen Fitzgerald. Ash Mountain. UK: Orenda Books, 2020.

This! I'm still shaking my head. A unique piece of work, set in Australia, the portrait of a rural town in trouble will send your blood racing. The place called Ash Mountain is accustomed to extreme temperatures and bush fires; it's where Fran Collins returns to care for her dying father, bumping into memories of growing up. Many unhappy memories. You may not get all the local references, the colloquialisms, the town landmarks, plunged into it as you are from page one, but you will get Fran, and her dad, and the often quirky townsfolk. Parts of it are absurdly funny, like Fran carrying an iPod connected to dad ("Gramps on a Stick") so he can "accompany" her through the neighbourhood to shop and chat with his friends. Or the antics of two galloping, flirtatious ostrich pets. Parts of it are deeply harrowing—in both current story and back story—all taking place in melting heat.

Fitzgerald's style is minimal prose to great effect. At times the shift from one thought to another may seem like a quantum leap; reading between the lines becomes instinctive. We come to understand that "boarders," or The Boarder, means the unruly boys at the regional Catholic school, which brings up the connection to the convent and the connection to the church, where the priests have been less than holy. The "oval" is the town gathering place, like a wide-open park. Fran tries to avoid the man who impregnated her at thirteen, but happily visits her old crush Brian, and seeks the truth about Father Frank's furtive nocturnal movements. Occasionally the narrator is Rosie, Brian's daughter, as the scenes shift between day of the fire and prior activities. Running her dad's household, keeping her teenage daughter Vonny out of trouble, checking out son Dante's organic world, a few old friends to drink with—busy days for Fran.

But on one particular day Ash Mountain people had little warning for the scariest firestorm ever. It is scary. No time to complete the drills they've practised, or find a hiding place. Fire like a satanic roller coaster engulfs every object in its way. Fear is palpable. The noise of wind and flame is terrifying, the air full of smoke, raining with ash and fiery missiles. Fitzgerald shoots words like bullets. Is there any shelter? Where is everyone? A true gem of a small novel.

Bits

▪ Her dad was off his head on Oxies, couldn't move his moving parts, and it took more stamina than a 10k for her to get his jeans off. (17)

▪ There was no fire in here, no flames near the phone, and yet the skin on his hand was changing. (45)

▪ Sunday 10.30 mass was the big show, run by Father Alfonzo in Fran's childhood and adolescence, and by Father Frank after Father Alfonzo was arrested. (54)

▪ Sister Mary Margaret, five rows down, gave Fran a dirty look. Pervy old witch. (55)

▪ Every woman in town fancies my dad, and every single one of them, especially Vonny's mum, can fuck right off. (85)

▪ Dante and Gramps were stoned, sitting opposite each other, making very odd faces, and giggling like crazy. "Sit here, we're finger and face dancing!" Dante said. (123)

▪ Rosie had punched Boarder #3 so hard that he stumbled backwards into the pool and disappeared into the body of the deep end. (138)

▪ Fran made a decision. She would break into the convent via one of the windows in the women's toilets. (156)

▪ His ribs were sticking out in the photographs too, although she could not look at all of them. "I don't like getting my photograph taken," he had whispered to her. (170)

Lisa Jewell. The Family Remains. Large Print. USA: Thorndike Press, 2022.

Here's a splendid example of why Jewell consistently produces bestsellers. Two intermingled families lived in a Chelsea mansion while their various children were growing up in the late 1980s, after which the four children scattered. The author's cast list of the families is helpful. In the current day (2019) we have DI Samuel Owusu of the Metro London police investigating a bag of human bones washed up on the banks of the Thames. Henry of the Lamb family is clearly obsessed with locating his teenage friend Phin(eas) of the Thomsen family. Henry's sister Lucy and her children are temporarily staying with him; something scary in their mutual history makes Lucy very anxious about Henry's fixation, especially when he disappears, following a clue to Phin's whereabouts. Off she goes in pursuit with two children in tow.

So why are we party to the courtship in 2017 of one Rachel Gold, deeply in love with Michael Rimmer? She marries him. Hints at bizarre events in the pasts of all these people are tantalizing. Lucy's three children apparently have different fathers. Her older daughter Libby recently inherited—and sold—a mansion in Chelsea. The riverside bones are identified as those of Birdie Dunlop-Evers, once a musician in a pop band; she died in the early 1990s. Rachel falls out of love. Middle-aged Henry has remodelled himself to look as much as possible like he remembers Phin. Phin is a mystery, for years avoiding his sister and childhood friends. Michael has a child by a previous marriage. It's deliciously complicated.

At first the narrative was a bit disorienting time-wise, but diligent DI Samuel doesn't stop hunting until he knows who killed Birdie; his case unexpectedly encompasses individual connections from the long-ago household. A killer, an impersonator, a blackmailer, a psycho? No alarming details here; the "childhood house of horrors" is for the reader to imagine; Jewell knows precisely how much or little to feed us. More Lisa Jewell on my list!

Bits

▪ As it is, I am not straight, and neither am I the sort of man that other men wish to form lengthy and meaningful relationships with, so that leaves me in the worst possible position – an unlovable gay man with fading looks. (21: Henry)

▪ Was she still Rachel Gold, the ice princess, the ball-breaker, the statuesque brunette who could never find a man to meet her high ideals? Or was she now somebody completely different? (113-4)

▪ "I feel — Jesus. I feel like I don't know you, Rachel. I feel like I married a fucking stranger." (141)

▪ I am Phin's living, breathing nightmare and he hates me. (262: Henry)

▪ "And I'm sorry that I'm all you've got. You deserve better than me, Dad, you really, really do." (282:Rachel)

▪ I said: It is quite a coincidence that this unusual name was on graffiti inside a house you inherited and is also the name of your very, very good friend. (357: Samuel)

▪ Lucy nodded, her eyes wide. Rachel saw tears shimmering on their surfaces and then Lucy clutched Rachel's arm and squeezed it. Rachel looked down at Lucy's hand and blinked. (389)

▪ "When you are a parent, not being able to feed your child is just about the worst, most soul-destroying thing imaginable. And now I can feed you. I can clothe you. I can give you warm beds to sleep in—" (394: Lucy)

▪ "He's not my brother; he's my uncle." (454: Libby)