Ann Patchett's new novel, "Commonwealth," is the
story of two modern families in crisis--the result of a divorce in each family
that affects six children. Franny, the
younger in one family, has just been christened when the novel begins, and
Albee, the youngest of four in the other family, is yet to be born. A stolen kiss and immediate electric shock (a
bit dorky, it seems to me) between Franny's beautiful mother, Beverly, and Bert
Cousins, an uninvited guest at the christening party, starts the whole ball
rolling, but the story is much less about them or their respective spouses than
it is about Cal, Holly, Jeanette, and Albee; Caroline and Franny. In the best modern tradition, the story of
the developing lives of these six children hops, skips, and jumps all over the
place, as this old reader, anyway, tries desperately to keep them straight.
Actually Franny Keating carries the greater part of the
story. An engaging, yet perplexing law
school dropout, she is a cocktail waitress in Chicago at the famous Palmer
House, when she accidentally meets Leonard Posen, a famous author, and later
begins an affair with him that more or less dominates the middle part of the
book. I say "more or less,"
because it seems to me that Patchett is quite determined not to linger too long
over any one story line. Just when one
thinks she is finally focusing on one of her many possible protagonists, she is
off to another, and usually somewhere in the confusing middle of their
story. Things get really complicated
when some of the children marry and have children of their own, while others
simply go off the beam, or, in one case, mysteriously die.
Patchett is too facile a writer to induce such a
wandering plot accidentally, so I will conclude that it's her deliberate
intention to do so, to express her dismay over how six children's lives are so
affected by what appears to be a random, romantic moment in the lives of the
father of one set and the mother of the other set. At times both sets of children
"hate" their parents, but not each other. They are too caught up in the dynamics of
trying to become one of those increasingly modern things: a "blended"
family.
This book is nothing like Patchett's "Bel
Canto" or the more recent "State of Wonder." We are forever in the less than exotic
settings of the modern states of Virginia and California, where one can
literally pick the oranges off the trees.
Oranges are, in fact, a predominant motif in the book, and a very
prominent part of the dust jacket. A
symbol, you ask? Certainly! But I will leave it to you to figure that one
out.
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