November 7, 2024
Loved and Missed, by Susie Boyt
“If we had spoken then it would have been to apologise to each other endlessly and then to apologise for apologising…until there was a high tower of sorryness and of sorrow between us, in recognition that for some reason our lives were rather difficult compared to other people’s. Although, of course, we were well up to it because we were strong, because we were brave and intelligent, although if we were being completely honest, it was a bit much.”
I knew nothing about Susie Boyt or this novel going in, except LOVED AND MISSED had been recommended by a writer friend who said I’m enjoy it, and it was unusual for me to start reading a text this way, just me and the very first line, that first paragraph. But I was hooked, by this spare and pointed narrative voice, by Ruth, whose adult daughter Eleanor is an addict, and the novel profiles their engagement, the eggshells upon which Ruth has to walk in order to have access to her daughter, the bright face she puts on, not a single word that might ruffle or offend, and the reader has to go between the lines a bit to understand what the story is, because Ruth is careful, reticent. She gets on with things, as she does when she begins caring for Eleanor’s daughter Lily, the baby’s presence bringing warmth and purpose into Ruth’s world. She notes that her friends don’t look upon her with such pity now that she has her grandchild to care for, that there is some envy even, which doesn’t happen to Ruth very often, her personal life—single mum, troubled daughter—usually discussed by these friends in hushed tones.
Ruth is very aware of how she’s seen. She’s an experienced and capable high school teacher, and she notes the disconnect between of her professional success and her relationship with her own daughter, with Eleanor’s troubles. Although Lily is more of a tribute to her care, and the quiet narrative shows the joy and comfort Ruth takes in their domestic arrangements, in their closeness. The novel is slim, but follows Lily all the way into her teenage years, and nothing much actually happens, really, except the kind of daily care and gestures that happen all the time, that are what a life, a family, is made of. In Lily, Ruth finds a bit of redemption, her pattern with Eleanor not perpetuated…although the final chapters of the book show that the truth is more complicated, and older, deeper patterns are actually still at work. That there are secrets that Ruth carries close to her heart, and shame that goes unspoken.
This is a novel about love and care, their joys and disappointments, about friendship and motherhood, the people who carry us, the people who save us in ways they’ll never really understand. Strange and quiet and so so good.
