|
Review: Ostensibly A Murder Mystery
An Adoration
Nancy Huston
McArthur & Company
309 pages, $29.95 cloth
ISBN: 1552783731
by Gwen Nowak
An Adoration is ostensibly a murder
mystery. But in reality Nancy Huston’s latest novel is a mystic
manifesto, her theory of everything written as a Mystery/Morality/Miracle
Play. In it Huston/Houdini artfully slips the bonds of every convention
to create a tableau vivant.
Huston’s opening note describes An Adoration
as a "phantasmagoria", a first alert that you are about to enter
a shifting scene of illusions, imaginary fancies, deceptions. Then,
in a flourish of paradoxical whimsy, Huston swears that what she
has written is "perfectly true." She promises that her characters
"will dazzle you, will take you for a ride." Then she admits that
the characters speak with her voice. And it is through her characters,
inanimate as well as animate, that Huston articulates a litany of
questions about virtually everything: Where does the truth begin
and where does it end? Is there a distinction between reality and
illusion? How are we in ‘the here and now’? Does death exist or
doesn’t it? And of course the ultimate question of universal concern:
Where oh where is love?
Obviously Huston takes seriously the 20th
century revelation [remember quantum physics?] that we humans are
not just observers in our universe; we are participators. Like the
current vogue of mystery theatre events in which the theatre goer
participates in the drama itself, Huston gives you, her reader,
a fundamental, even existential, role to play— the role of The Judge.
Your task is to conduct a hearing into the life and death of Cosmo,
the most famous actor in France at the turn of the last millennium.
Huston disarmingly relativizes her own role
by entering into the action as, not surprisingly, The Novelist,
a character equally vulnerable to being corrected and berated by
other characters. But it becomes clear as the hearing proceeds that
Huston is a novelist on a mission, a Very Big Mission. Midway through
the proceedings she virtually grabs you The Reader/Judge by the
sleeve of your judicial cloak, looks you in the eye and challenges
you with a bracing question: How can I convince you of the things
I care about most? And it becomes evident that what she cares about
most is what is happening in the real world. Huston offers a compressed
litany of horrors when she describes the Great Cosmo performing
his Explanation of the World to a Little Girl: atomic bombs, napalm,
rape of children, child labour—the kind of nightmare world we all
wish was an illusion, not historical fact.
For Huston, words are important. Of course
you, The Judge, would expect as much from a writer/wordsmith who
has been the recipient of prestigious literary awards—in France
Le Prix des Lectrices d’ELLE, Le Prix Contrepoint, Le Prix Goncourt
Lycéen, in Canada Le Prix des Librairies and The Governor
General’s Award in French. Full kudos for a writer born in Canada,
living in France and writing in either French or English as the
inspiration requires. What you might not anticipate as you enter
Huston’s phantasmagoric tableau is that she will give fresh force
to her belief in the power of words with a disquisition on the nature
of words themselves. This leads to her observations about the essential
difference between chit-chat and real conversation which in turn
informs her ultimate concern, human relationships. But she presses
even further when she presents Cosmo, the murder victim, as word-made-flesh
like you-know-who of Christian iconography. She pens a potent image
of spoken words sliding limply down the face of a person who can’t/won’t
take them in, an image which connected in this Judge’s mind with
Jesus’s words in the Gospel of John: "You look for an opportunity
to kill me because there is no place in you for my word." Which
generated yet another virtual image—a doctoral student in some university
Religion and Literature department feverishly working on a dissertation
titled: "The Iconic Significance of Semen and Semantics for Huston’s
Cosmo-Christ". But I digress from the hearing in progress.
The mise en scène for Huston’s murder
mystery is a seemingly ordinary pub in a small town in France. But
the name of the pub functions as a palimpsest for the Biblical Genesis—it
changes sequentially from La Fontaine [the waters of creation] to
Le Zodiac [the firmament] to Le Cosmo [Behold the hero Cosmo, dying
rising god-man]. Expanding the biblical seven days of creation,
Huston’s cosmic action takes place in twelve days, the chapters
titled with sonorous biblical pomp: The First Day, The Second Day...The
Twelfth Day. Huston’s Thirteenth Day is a brief description of the
beginning of a new aeon, reminiscent of the Eighth day of Christian
rendering. But within the seemingly ordered sequence of days Huston
dexterously kaleidoscopes past and future, then and now, all the
while alerting the reader to the illusory nature of linear time.
This purposeful artifice presses her mytho-prophetic point: The
Time is Now. Get Real.
But of course it’s not that simple. Huston’s
phantasmagoric caravan of characters are all caught in the same
labyrinthine trap as the Judge, i.e. the human condition as the
seemingly unredeemed reign of violence, pathology, alienation, the
existential void. She even asks: Is ‘I’ just one more illusion?
What hope then for Huston's characters, mere "quivering fragments
of infinity set on the finite arc of time"? Can they be saved or
redeemed by Cosmo, that "electrified body-mind" somehow destined
by his un-holy family circumstances to present all of their sorry
stories on stage?
Elke, the primary witness at the judicial
hearing sees Cosmo "offering himself up in holocaust to redeem what
he found intolerable about reality—the lack of love, the lack of
love, the lack of love." A barmaid at La Fontaine, Elke claims to
know Cosmo best and to love him absolutely. For her, Cosmo is exactly
what he claimed to be—Love Incarnate—evidenced by his absolute openness
to each person with whom he came in contact, including Elke’s daughter
Fiona and son Frank, both still quite young when Cosmo takes up
residence "in their mother’s eyes" [Fiona’s version]. The Cosmophile,
another witness, recalls admiringly the various performances of
Cosmo, a most memorable one being the tragi-comic Cosmo playing
the "stupefied God arriving in the midst of his creation for the
first time, and running into all these atrocious samples of the
species he has sworn to love." Yet another witness, The Psychiatric
Expert, writes Cosmo off as a "stranger to authenticity.... a mirror
inside a kaleidoscope... reflecting motley glints of other people’s
stories." To the fiercely alienated son of Elke, Cosmo was nothing
more than a "fornicating clown." You the Reader/Judge must hear
all of the conflicting testimony of fact and fabulation about Cosmo.
And you are invited to discern some deeper truth behind Huston’s
reality-bytes fiction.
An Adoration includes a sharply
nuanced reprise of one of Huston’s favourite themes: the nature
of motherhood. To Huston, a child’s or a whole culture’s view of
Mother is radically reductionist given the more complex reality—mothers
like fathers are " a million other things." Here Huston confronts
with vigour, and some humour, the particularly bedevilled relationship
between mothers and sons. Not surprisingly she hooks her analysis
to the Mary/Jesus, Mother/Son iconography of Judeo-Christian culture.
Through Kacim, the son of Muslim immigrants living a marginal existence
in France, Huston observes: "All men are sensitive on the subject
of their mother’s morality....I mean, why else would Christianity
have invented a saviour with a virgin mother? Whoever thought that
one up was a genius!"
But enough introduction! The performance
is about to begin. Step right up, step right in to An Adoration.
Witness for yourself Nancy Huston’s mind-bending heart-rending illusions.
Watch spellbound as she turns Reality inside out.
Want to comment on
this essay? (discuss)
|