FAITHFUL (2016)
By Alice Hoffman
Simon & Schuster,
288 pages
★★★ ½
The latest novel by Alice Hoffman is more personal and less sweeping
in scope than recent works such as The
Marriage of Opposites or The Museum
of Ordinary Things. In tone, though not subject, it's more evocative of
works from the 1990s such as Turtle Moon or
Practical Magic. As such, it probably
won't thrill those seeking highbrow literature, but like most of Ms Hoffman's
books, Faithful charms in ways that
make the reader yearn for just a wee bit more.
This one follows the saga of suburbanite Shelby Richmond, a
happy-go-lucky high schooler whose world is shattered in an instant when she's
behind the wheel on an icy night and spins out of control. Although the crash
is an accident in the literal sense of that word—no recklessness or substance
abuse to blame–Shelby is consumed by guilt when she walks away unscathed, but
her BFF Helene–the high school golden girl—is left comatose. Faithful is a tale of loss, self-inflicted
punishment, and the struggle to live in moments present and future rather than
a single tragic point from the past. When has one suffered enough for one's
sins (real and imagined)? How does one know when it's time to move on? It
doesn't help Shelby's process when stories begin to circulate of small miracles
associated with viewing Helene reposing in angelic and comatose in her parents'
home. Call it survivor's guilt or call it post traumatic stress disorder,
Shelby simply can't get beyond the feeling that she, not Helene, should have
been the victim. Since she wasn't, Shelby victimizes herself.
In the tradition of Great
Expectations, Shelby has benefactors who seek to help her, including Ben
Mink, her pot dealer, but one with ambitions of becoming a pharmacist. At
first, Ben reminded me a lot of Gus in Hoffman's The River King, but I'm glad she veered in another direction. We
witness Shelby leave Long Island for New York City, with Ben, but the Big Apple
is not a Big Magic Wand–Shelby's struggles continue and she's really not cut
out for anything more demanding than working at a pet store. There she meets another
touchstone: Maravelle Diaz, a single mother with three children, but with
bigger dreams than Shelby allows herself. There is also a mysterious Guardian
Angel who periodically sends postcards with Hallmark-like upbeat messages:
"Save something," "Forgive someone," etc. Hoffman cleverly
juxtaposes these seemingly trite notes with the ones often tucked inside
Chinese fortune cookies–something we know but Shelby doesn't. Though she pretty
much subsists on takeout Chinese food, Shelby steadfastly refuses to crack open
a fortune cookie, as befits one who doesn't think she has a future.
Without revealing any plot details, let me say that the book
also deals with rescuing imperiled dogs, musing on the meaning of family,
reluctant role models, and acceptance. We also learn along with Shelby that
quite a few other people need to learn how and when to let go. Don't expect Practical Magic or The River King; most of this book's miracles are less dramatic, but
more real. If you get sentimentally caught up in novels, a warning–this is not
a work for the puppies-and-rainbows crowd. There's palpable pain on the page
and you won't like a few of Hoffman's characters. (You're not supposed to like
them; they are awful people.) Recognize also that Hoffman has matured as a
writer and doesn't feel the need to write fairytale endings any more.
Objectively speaking, it's unlikely that Faithful will be remembered as among
Alice Hoffman's greatest works. It's a very good and thoughtful novel that
you'll probably sail through–a classic "good read." It feels honest but,
like takeout Chinese, it satisfies without quite sating one's hunger. Looking
for miracles? Try a fortune cookie.
Rob Weir
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