Irish
writer Edna O’Brien’s lovely, bittersweet 2006 novel The Light of Evening explores family ties, simple and yet complex.
Through vignettes and letters, we get to know Dilly in her late seventies in
her native Ireland, and her adult daughter Eleanora in both Ireland and
England, and through flashbacks, Dilly as a young woman in New York City.
Parents, siblings, spouses, children, roommates, bosses, lovers play roles
through the decades, but the novel is about Dilly and Eleanora as mother Dilly
faces a health threat.
Piecing
together vignettes and letters from different eras in mother’s and daughter’s
lives, we glimpse decades of Dilly’s unbroken, faithful devotion to her daughter.
Counterpoint to Dilly’s attachment is Eleanora’s detachment. Although she
generously, regularly sends her mother money, clothing, and household items,
she keeps her distance from Rusheen, the family farm. Dilly’s letters to
Eleanora reveal her heart and her life, which Eleanora does not appreciate as
motherly love, and she does not share her life’s disappointments and
unhappiness with her mother. In addition, romantic griefs of each woman could
be studies in themselves—searching, settling, refusing to settle. Dilly’s hope
for love becomes her daughter. Eleanora’s hope for love seems to have been
buried long ago. Can Dilly’s illness change this dynamic?
I very
much enjoyed Edna O’Brien’s colorful writing style. It is at once plain and
poetic. (“… and the kiss that tasted of melted snow, but God the fire in it.”
[page 6]) Descriptions and actions are economical. In the first twenty-four
pages, I was thoroughly engaged in Dilly’s longing as O’Brien simply introduces
plot, past, present, and future characters. One disadvantage of O’Brien’s
economy, however, is many names mentioned but not expanded upon; as people in
Dilly’s and Eleanora’s orbits, they were not central to the story.
The
author’s portrayal of Irish immigrants coming to Ellis Island and working in
New York City is vivid. Dialogue is lively and realistic. Plus, I have to like
a book that uses two of my favorite archaic expressions: higgledy-piggledy and
hidey-hole.
Here are
some of my favorite quotes from The Light
of Evening:
“What did
I do wrong?” he [Dilly’s husband] kept asking, putting his cap on and off as he
loitered. “Nothing, you did nothing wrong,” she answered, canceling the
tribulation of years. [page 4]
“… she
would have to go to Dublin for observation. Observation for what? As if she
were a night sky.” [page 8]
Of
Eleanora, who became a writer, the author says, “Her mother, abjuring the
seaminess of the written word, and once, in an outburst, declaring that ‘paper
never refused ink.’ Yet she was in bondage to both, doing her best to please
both, dreading their strictures but smarting under them, an imposter carrying
on her secret, subversive life. There was … her child self, not fully dead, not
fully alive, waiting, through the alchemy of words, to crystallize into life.”
[page 130]
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