The Gathering by Anne Enright. OK, this was the book that's convinced me I want to start reading real books again (after a 2 month hiatus). I started it this morning, reluctantly went to work, and finished it after dinner.
The Hegarty clan gather in Dublin to mourn the suicide of their brother Liam. The structure of the story is interesting. The titular gathering doesn't take place until about 3/4s of the way through the book, but the consequences for Veronica, the narrator, have been in full play for the first part of the book. Enright weaves reminiscence, past, present, future, and fantasy to portray a woman in grief and a family coping with a subtle, insidious evil. And Veronica works through all this before we find out what the secrets are, or how the family reunion goes. And her anger and her grief is so real, and her hatred of everything, of her family, her husband, her children, herself rings so true. And so does her epiphany at the end of the book and all of this hatred, this rage and disgust at her husband, the world fundamentally shifts. This bone-deep shift is what I'm looking for in therapy, so finding it in a novel? Was an unexpected gift.
I can't wait to start my new book tomorrow! It's a lovely feeling.
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