Missing the mark

 

mountain

A missing-the-mark,  feel-good book. This is, in a nutshell, this reader’s reaction to Cindy Myers’ The Mountain Between Us (New York: Kensington Publishing, 2014).

The feel-good aspect of the book means that at the end, every young woman gets her man (the older women remain alone), every natural obstacle is removed, everyone’s life,  (despite some previous upheaval) settles into a routine, victims get their revenge, and Christmas cheer is everywhere. The novel is about two women’s quest for a lasting relationship. Maggie Stephens is a divorced 40-year old, newly arrived in Eureka, Colorado, pregnant by a younger man from Eureka, Jameso, whom she has known for a few months. Her preoccupation stems from his carefree lifestyle: will he want to stay with her and be a good father? Olivia Theriot, also an arrival to Eureka, is a single mother of a 13 year old boy whose father, D. J.,  left her to make some money during the Iraq conflict; but he comes back to Eureka to attempt a reconciliation which she obstinately refuses to entertain. The tiny town’s inhabitants have a role to play: there is an experienced ex-miner (Bob Prescott),  the town’s mayor (Lucille), the town’s old maid (Cassie). The mountain town itself, with its economic need for tourists, natural beauty and resources, paints an interesting setting. The town’s council was defrauded of all its money, some of which which they got back using not-so-legal means. This whole episode hangs on the willingness of the bank to cash all of the town’s investments, rather than just the sum the town agreed on with the new “investor”, really a swindler.

The author attempts to give authentic voices to the characters when she narrates their innermost feelings. This is done in a conversational style, perhaps mirroring the linguistic usage of a small town. For es., “familiar in the way only someone with whom you’d shared the deepest intimacy” (p. 10). This is perhaps also the reason for using trite and tired stock phrases, such as “life was full of surprises” (p. 144),  “picture-postcard perfections” (p. 164),  “the world around them was a frosted wedding cake” (p. 165),  “People fall in love and they just know they can get through anything together” (p. 189), etc. It is quite sad, then, that the world of these small-town characters is circumscribed by such rudimentary vocabulary.

There is an underlying tension between independence and rules (similar to the one in Glass Castle – see the review below). “Craziness” is admired; Bob’s words underline this: “If crazy is not wanting to play by the rest of the world’s rules, then maybe you’re right.” (p. 175); or Olivia’s claim that people bragged about living on their own terms (p. 239). It could be that echoes of the idea of rugged individualism must appear in all American writing.

The title does not really reflect the content: who is really the “us”? Is it the inhabitants of Eureka? And who then is “them” – between “us” and “them”? Is the “mountain between” a good thing, i.e. some distance to ponder the events? Or is it something insurmountable?

However, the novel fails to take advantage of the signposts that are already in the narration and could have become much more than asides, such as the consequences for soldiers and para-military personnel as well as their loved ones of their involvement in war (in this case, in Iraq); the question of a Christmas tradition without religious bases; not-so-ethical business practices; the unattainable goals of women, especially if they involve the arts;  trite romantic dreams of middle class women; definition of community. These signposts revolve around social consciousness, i.e. the idea that the actions in the novel are embedded in a wider political, social, economic contexts all of which bring problems to individuals. The lack of knowledge about social consciousness among many authors today stems from their lack of reading: many authors jump into writing as if it were something like walking, which seems innate. Writing, on the other hand, is not innate, but many work with ignorance of  models (even to destroy), and without any need for awareness of linguistic creativity.  Attentiveness to the world beyond one’s navel is based on familiarity with a wealth of other writing which requires time and effort and study. Long gone are the times when authors were conscious of the fact that if they wanted to reach future readers, they had to write using excellent language and superior content. Nowadays, publishing at all costs and immediately is the goal, so the results clearly miss the mark.

According to Pankaj Mishra, to be a writer is “to concern oneself particularly with the fate of the individual in society” (p. 149 in An End to Suffering, Picador, 2004). But to do this, one has to study, read widely and incessantly, think deeply and edit constantly: all of these activities are time-consuming, lengthy, profound, ill-suited to the modern hasty superficial obsession with a two-minute fame.

 

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