When I saw this book on my shelf, I thought of all the hoopla surrounding Jonathan Franzen last month, and I remembered how he has often been compared to Paula Fox. (And how he admired her writing.) I have eagerly read Paula Fox since I was a teenager, and her adult novels have been even better. When I realized that the book I had taken away for the weekend was a YA book I was surprised, based on the grim-looking cover. (My copy is so old I couldn’t find a good photo of it online, this picture is of the paperback.) But I was not deterred. After all, I could, with a little luck, sprawl out on the couch and finish it on a lazy Saturday afternoon.
It was a reminder to me, reading this, how so many young adult books have edgier topics than most adult fiction. I agree with the focus, since my capacity for depressing, high drama stories was huge as a teenager. Now, empathizing with the parents in most of these books, I often feel wronged or misunderstood. Not so with Paula Fox. It is her gift to write a story that a 46-year-old can read and still relate to the 15 year old telling it.
At the start of the book we find Catherine, in her Canadian boarding school, waiting for her father to pick her up for their first extended vacation together since her parents divorced when she was three. He brings the concept of “late for pickup” to another level, arriving three weeks after the appointed day. The fact that Catherine never complains, or lets anyone call her mother, is testament to how much this rare time with her dad means to her. When he finally arrives, with a change of plans, she is admirably game, until the reality of day-to-day living sets in. Her dad, Henry Ames, is a failed novelist and an alcoholic, and, while this seems trite, the story never sinks to the level you might expect. At times, Catherine seems much older than her years, but when you factor in her parents, her boarding school existence, and her significant time spent alone reading, it’s possible that a fifteen year old might sound as smart as Paula Fox can write. As an aside, her school sounded fantastic; the first time in memory I thought it would be fun to go back to high school.
Here is an example of an observation Catherine makes early on that shows her youth, but also her wisdom:
“People claimed they spoke about their thoughts, their feelings. She had often wondered if another kind of conversation was taking place, wordlessly, at the same time. No matter what you talked about with Harriet Blacking, she was really saying—you can’t fool me—and you were always protesting—I’m not trying to fool you! Her conversations with Cornelia were partly about how much they liked each other. When she asked Cornelia if she could borrow a blouse and Cornelia said yes, but don’t get strawberry jam on it, they were both saying—you can have what is mine. And when Philippe talked in the café where she sometimes met him after his Thursday anthropology class, whatever they said, it was about being glad to see each other—there wasn’t anyone they wanted to see more…”
Catherine is a keen observer, and, while she may be tried over the course of the summer with her dad, she will not be damaged by it. She seems to have a healthy balance between her longings for a normal family, and her sense that normal is not really a word to describe hers. Again to Fox’s credit, there are no seriously bad guys here; even the characters you think are horrible manage to come through in the end. The book is recommended for readers 9-12, though I would guess the subject would be difficult for someone that young. Maybe wait until they’re 46 or so.
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