Just last month the Brotherhood had been riven by debate over perceived satanism in Fantasia.
Ruth’s an inquisitive child, soaking up everything she can get her hands on from the Brotherhood’s library whose books often have pages cut from them. There are strict rules to abide by in this pacifist, non-property-owning, strictly gendered community where engagements are entered into only after a sanctioned exchange of letters between the prospective husband and wife and only after each has requested and been granted a baptism. For some, such a restricted way of life is too much: Ruth’s brother leaves the sect effectively severing ties with his family. Ruth marries, although not one of her many crushes, glimpsing the outside world she put her toe in briefly in college through her husband’s travels sourcing supplies. He’s a steady man, if dull, tolerant of Ruth’s apparent eccentricities and lack of domesticity in a way his peers might not be. Their three children respond in different ways to this sequestered life while Ruth remains an awkward observer who doesn’t quite fit in, unsure of what to answer when her son asks her if she’s happy.
Brigid moved across the room to stand beside Brother Oh. Every present wife recognized in her face the giddy anticipation of obedience; Brigid was already folding his socks in her heart.
Like Miriam Toews, who explores similar territory in a very different way, Riley grew up in the kind of community her characters inhabit. She unfolds her story in short, often impressionistic sections from Ruth’s perspective rather than through her voice which works well, reinforcing her character as a questioning observer unable to quash her curiosity about the world and immerse herself in worship as the community requires. The narrative style is a little overwritten for me, but it’s lightened with a smart humour which kept me going and Ruth’s character is well drawn. She’s playful, clever, imaginative and not entirely accepting of the Brotherhood even as a child, a scepticism that deepens as she ages and at times falls into depression, learning to put up with Alan’s repeated anecdotes, endless explaining and calling her ‘Mom’. It’s not Toews, although that’s setting the bar high, but I enjoyed this glimpse of a world I’m greatly relieved not to have been born into.
Doubleday: London 9780857529886 256 pages Hardback (read via NetGalley)
Sounds so interesting! I’ve never read anything set in an Anabaptist community (indeed my entire knowledge of Anabaptism comes from the early modern period).
I had to look it up although I’ve often seen references to it in American fiction.
I’ve had my eye on this one. Incidentally, I recently started on a forthcoming story collection called What Mennonite Girls Are Good For. And I’ve wondered about suggesting Toews’s Women Talking for my book club.
Lots to talk about for sure, and the film adaptation is well worth watching – not something I say often. I’d recommend this one with a caveat about the writing style which is a bit overdone.
Ooh that does look intriguing – and it’s handily still available on NG so I’ve put in a request (even though I am far from finishing my August NG books as it is!).
As I remember, it’s a fairly quick read. I think you’d find it interesting.
That does sound interesting reading–especially with a character that questions but from within the community–though like you I can say even without reading, a space I’m glad I wasn’t born into.
I had wondered if she found herself in a similar position to Ruth. Definitely not a way of life I’d welcome.
I have read a few books about fundamentalist types of communities. Most of them have been autobiographical. Is this a light or heavy read?
A little mixed but Ruth does find a way to be herself in very constrained circumstances. I enjoyed it more than I expected.
That quote about folding socks is great. The humour is very appealing too. As you say, I’m very relieved not to have had to contend with such an upbringing!
Isn’t it great? I full of respect for anyone who comes through that who is so apparently well adjusted.
I wonder if you’re referring to Toews generally (i.e. including A Complicated Kindness, as well as the much-better-known Women Talking) and whether almost everyone could feel a little overwritten in comparison to her. (I loved the film, too. But, also, sheesh: you can put down a book.)
I was, and I agree with you about the film. Tough viewing but true to the book. You probably know that Toews is publishing a memoir or perhaps it’s already out there. I’ll be reviewing it next week.
To clarify, Kate didn’t grow up Anabaptist. She spent a year with the Manhattan Bruderhof trying to decide if she wanted to become a member. She grew up on the lower East side.
Many thanks for letting me know. Very helpful.