Verandah People
by Jonathan Bennett
Raincoast Books, 2003
See
also Jonathan Bennett in conversation with George Murray
Reviewed by Alex Boyd
 There is an element of
regret to be found in Jonathan Bennett’s collection of stories Verandah
People – a number of characters lament what could have been and
the verandah comes to represent the border between worlds, or
potentially different lives. In "Despite Last Night’s Rain,"
we work backwards in time through the memories of George, who despairs
for the life with children he could have had. When he collapses, the
line between lives blurs and becomes confused: "He was alive, yes,
he was sure of it. But whose life was he inside of?" The reader
eventually learns that his case of regret and dismay stems for a
decision to step outside and stand by his wife, both literally and
figuratively ("The door banged behind George as he considered
stepping out across the lawn") despite how they might never have
children.
I was mildly frustrated with the lack
of events in "Alaska," until I saw that it was a character
study in regret and affection, with a woman remembering her sister’s
life – a life that burned brightly but for half the length, so to
speak. And when Amanda remembers her sister coming to her aid, the story
(and the collection) ends on an astonishingly beautiful moment.
Some of the stories that don’t deal
with regret, exactly, are about characters making life-changing
decisions, introducing the possibility of regret, and again suggesting
the verandah border to a different life. In "The Price of
Fish," the protagonist moves to a different country to escape a
conscious sense of numbing routine. And change comes not from within,
but is imposed from outside in "About Walking," when a man
sitting quietly in a mall has his life thrown into a state of shock,
revulsion and guilt by what literally drops from above. These stories go
beyond the assertion that we have a finite amount of time, to include
the idea that even within that time, the framework of our lives is
fragile, and wavers with different decisions and events. In "Glass
Paper" – a title that certainly suggests fragility – a husband’s
decision to be unfaithful risks sweeping away his current relationship
and life. One character will have admiration for another that is
unrequited, generally misplaced, or misplaced in time. Even as the
husband is unfaithful, his pregnant wife is at home thinking of an old
flame of hers. In "Inside an Ink Cloud," a young man
admires his older brother, who is indifferent to him. At the same time,
the older brother thinks constantly of his own unreachable, now dead
role model.
Overall the book is full of beautifully
executed, striking moments. As the older brother surfs, in "Inside
an Ink Cloud," he becomes aware there may be a shark nearby:
As the first wave passed under
him and the second wave stood before him, Shane sank into the trough,
a heart-quickening space where he was unable to see the beach or the
horizon. A private space, between walls of water, windless, hidden
from as far as the eye can see. Then, like a fleeting smile, through
the curling face of the approaching wave shot a dark shape – a
porpoise or shark, an inky shadow on a cave wall made of water.
The description is often quietly
meaningful, as in the title story: "Marcus
dug a nail into the wet base of the Verandah’s railing. With a few
twists, he gouged down through the years, through the coats of paint to
the wood." And we find both despair, as Marcus wonders "if or
why he should be bothered at all" and hope, when he remembers his
son’s "tiny newborn hand" as it grips "the face of
Marcus’s diver’s watch as if it were a discus."
The stories are valuable for, like a
lot of good art, suggesting more than is literally said. I’m still
pondering the idea of misplaced admiration and allegiances – how
profoundly it can change a life. In creating these characters and their
struggles with change, hope and regret, Bennett captures something
important and meaningful in an outstanding and memorable collection of
stories.
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