LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
BOOKED Solid |
Reviewed by Rebecca James |
The Last Time They Met, by Anita Shreve, 2001
She's not quite sure how or when it happened, but Linda Fallon has become a pale shadow of her former self, a washed out, faded version of the youthful beauty she once was. Everything about her seems less specific: hair, clothing, her entire presence. Linda Fallon has not felt like a sexual person since her husband died several years ago. You might say that she is a ghost; that without tangible proof, Linda might never have lived. She is the woman within us that stops appraising the image in the mirror and starts wondering why she should even bother to ask for a reflection in the shiny glass. Anita Shreve's main character in The Last Time They Met is only in her early fifties. Yet, Shreve leads us to believe that there is a mystery here, that there is more to this woman's life and problems than depression or exhaustion. With the introduction of her former lover, Thomas, the pieces begin to fit together. Those who read The Weight of Water by Shreve will recognize some of the names and characters in this, Shreve's latest novel. Shreve has written the book in three sections. The perspective alternates between Linda and Thomas after they are reunited at a literary festival and begin to reminisce. Shreve has chosen to go backwards in time; part two speaks of the couple's chance affair during their years living separately in Africa. Part three illuminates the first time they met in high school and the passionate, but tragic, relationship they pursued. This is where readers of The Weight of Water may become a little confused, but they have a slight advantage over others in that they may now see where Shreve is going with her backwards reflections. To be perfectly honest, Shreve's writing is a little confusing. Her attempts at subtlety make me wonder if she's actually getting her whole point across, or if I missed key elements (or what the author would consider key elements) by being distracted by her loose format. Also troubling is Shreve's format for dialogue in the story. Instead of the standard quotation marks, Shreve uses hyphens followed by lines of italics. I thought I would adjust to her style by the end of the book, but I finished with the same weird sensation with which I began. The only way for me to describe it is to compare my perspective as the reader to that of a person who has taken too much cold medication. I felt like I was on the outside, looking in. It was very surreal; perhaps that was Shreve's intent. I'm sure she's not the first author to use this style (I tried, but could not think of another), but I'm not sure I needed a serious change in writing technique in a novel I would consider beach reading. Don't write the book off yet, though. Despite my aforementioned objections, I did find the story absorbing. Just when I would begin to become bored with the quality of her work, Shreve would insert some little gem into the page that would so exactly capture a mood I had experienced myself that it would renew my interest entirely. The character of Linda is one I genuinely enjoyedshe reminded me of someone I know. In fact, I would venture to say that most of us would encounter a Linda in our lives at some point, someone not remarkable by traditional measures, but who remains a pivotal person in our lives after the briefest encounter. We may even be someone's Linda. It is hard to tell if this person is so extraordinary because of whom they actually are or if it is because of whom we perceive them to be. How do our lover's expectations change us; what do we learn about ourselves in the wake of the most disastrous, but passionate, love affair? "He did not know her as troubled, for he had met her laughing; and she had discovered that she had no desire to taint the happiness she'd found with him with sordid stories of her recent past. And consequentlyand partly as a result of expectationshe rose to his image of herself: sensible and practical (which was largely true), drowsy and easy in bed, and prone to laugh at the foibles of others and of herself...And it was not a lie...not so unusual to be a different person with a different man, for all parts were authentically within, waiting to be coaxed out by one person or another, by one set of circumstances or another, and it pleased her to make this discovery." Linda's lover, Thomas, is another character Shreve explores in her novel. In a way, he is actually the primary character, although we learn more about him via his interactions with Linda than any other way. Throughout the novel, Thomas's poetry seems to have an inordinate amount of control, almost dictating the path Linda's life follows. The eerie quality of the story makes sense at the end, but it was almost too late because I didn't quite buy the story all along. I guess the bottom line is that those of us with a limited book budget should borrow this one or wait for paperback. I wouldn't discount it altogether, though. While I feel less than enthusiastic, The Last Time They Met is the most interesting bit of new fiction I've picked up recently and is definitely entertaining. I'd be curious to hear other people's perspectives on this one. There are very few authors I have this love-hate relationship with; Anne Tyler is another one. I'll leave her to another day. Happy reading! Rebecca James is spending her third summer in Rehoboth Beach. She's supporting her reading addiction (and college tuition) using her training in massage at Spa by the Sea on Baltimore Avenue. She may be reached at beachmassage@hotmail.com. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 11, No. 7, June 15, 2001. |