Occasionally I think back to an essay prompt our teacher gave us in high school about measuring time. Some people might reference an event by who was president or pope, others might mark its relation as occurring before or after a traumatic experience (pre-COVID, anyone?). For me, I’ve always thought about time, both as a student and teacher, and even now as a parent, as a school year. September brings beginnings; May conveys closure.
I was pleased then, by the structure of Maggie Pouncey’s
novel Perfect Reader which begins, as things should, in the fall. Flora
Dempsey’s life in the city comes to a halt when her father dies, leaving her
the executor. She returns to her childhood home of Darwin, where her father was
president of the local college as well as a renowned literary critic. Just
before his death, he’d bequeathed her a folder of his poems, which she hasn’t
had the courage to read. As she tries to get his affairs in order, she can’t
help but remember her childhood, and the move that prompted her parents’
divorce.
“On the day they moved to Darwin, Flora’s mother went
shopping. She bought a rough-wooled cardigan and a white bumpy bedspread. She
bought them, not liking them, because it’s easier to focus on disliking small,
specific things than your life in general.”
Pouncey not only captures the spirit of each season in
this small college town, but the various ways people cope with grief. Over the course
of the book, Flora seems unmoored by the task ahead of her. But bolstered by renewed
friendships, mornings spent reading poetry, and walking her father’s dog in the
commons, she begins to see how life might just recommence.
No comments:
Post a Comment