Loved and Missed
I love it when a book by an author I’ve never heard of comes roaring out nowhere and gob smacks me. It generally happens when I’ve had a long book drought and been moping around about having nothing to read.
The latest book to do so is Loved and Missed by Susie Boyt, a British novelist and journalist who has published seven novels (this is her first released in the US…more please!!!!) and a memoir about her obsession with Judy Garland. (I can’t wait to read that.)
She tells the story of Ruth, a 50-ish woman, whose daughter, Eleanor, is a heroin addict, living on the street. Ruth is a caregiver, a teacher who mentors many of her high school students, so her daughter’s rejection of her is particularly difficult, a type of unrequited love.
But this is not the typical story wherein the mother freaks out and tries everything to fix her daughter. Ruth has come to reluctantly accept Eleanor’s choice. Still she occasionally invites her for a holiday dinner, going to great effort to make it perfect, without expectation that Eleanor will show up. She lives with the reality.
When a friend mentions to Ruth she saw Eleanor outside the tube entrance, asking for money, Eleanor responds mildly and apologizes, saying it must have been shocking for her friend. Most of the novel is told in Ruth’s voice, not at all whiny, but funny, witty, and erudite. You’d like her as a friend.
Eleanor gets pregnant with Lily and, after seeing a man dead from an overdose in Eleanor’s squat, Ruth decides to take the baby. Eleanor doesn’t fight it, accepting the 4000 pounds Ruth gives her in exchange. Lily gives Ruth a second chance at motherhood.
What ensues is the development of a beautiful relationship between grandmother and child. (The fact that I am a new grandmother has, of course, nothing to do with my enjoyment of this book. Wanna see a picture?)
In effect, Ruth gets a second chance at motherhood. Boyt’s description of their home life –snuggles and cooking, poems and puzzles – is both tender and touching. The novel is a portrayal of the pain of unrequited caring for others as well as the delight. It’s both grim and hopeful.
Incidentally, Boyt’s great-grandfather was Sigmund Freud. She’s the youngest child of the British painter Lucian Freud and Suzy Boyt. I don’t know what to make of that except maybe brilliance is hereditary.