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Many
writers have a tendency to write about what they know: their
obsessions, their acquaintances, themselves. In his latest
book, James Prosek manages to write about all three in an
honest, yet sometimes seemingly detached manner.
Based
on Prosek's childhood experiences, The Day My Mother Left
chronicles three years in the life of Jeremy Vrabec, a nine-year-old
whose doting mother suddenly moves out after revealing that
she has been having an affair with the father of Jeremy's
worst enemy. Although she takes little with her, Jeremy realizes
later that she has stolen something from him: his self-drawn
Book of Birds.
Immediately
after her departure, Jeremy's father sinks into a depression,
which Jeremy details in an honest, straightforward manner.
"Sometimes, I think it would have been better if she had died,"
Jeremy's father confesses in one tearful moment. "But knowing
she's alive out there, that she's living a new life with another
man, is killing me." The outpouring of grief can be heartbreaking—especially
when the grief comes from a grown man and is witnessed by
his child. Jeremy's father moves easily from loathing himself
to vowing to kill his wife, but Prosek's simplicity keeps
the tale from being melodramatic. Young readers may be startled
by the revelation that even the strongest of grown-ups can
be broken, but it will not be an uncomfortable realization.
Meanwhile,
Jeremy deals with his own feelings of abandonment as best
he can. He finds solace in the beauty of his environment and,
in turn, his drawings of it. Thus, he spends long periods
of time hanging out with his best friend, hunting and fishing
with his uncle, and creating a replacement Book of Birds.
Drawings of these birds, all rendered by the author, can be
found throughout the novel, revealing that both Prosek and
his nine-year-old alter ego are incredibly talented artists.
As a
slice-of-life book, The Day My Mother Left is lovely.
The book is at its best when Jeremy is fishing, sketching
birds, or otherwise communing with the woods in his Connecticut
hometown. This is not surprising, since Prosek is best known
in literature for his books about fishing. Prosek obviously
knows nature extremely well, and his descriptions of wildlife
are simple but vivid, infused with an artist's eye for color
and light. In describing a sunfish, Jeremy seems to take his
time to notice every detail the way a child would:
The
fish had blue streaks that ran across its olive cheeks
like streams on a map. Its eyes were orange-brown with
halos of green and blue. Its sides were rust-colored with
dark bands, and its belly was pumpkin orange.
On the
other hand, Jeremy's feelings are only expressed superficially.
For example, when his father announces his remarriage, Jeremy
screams and runs to his room, but the feelings associated
with his reaction are never shown. When faced with a loved
one's death, Jeremy makes a symbolic gesture but expresses
no remorse. Prosek's restrained descriptions make Jeremy's
character surprisingly impersonal. A mere sentence or two
could easily convey the depth of a child's feelings—an
idea epitomized by such works as Katherine Paterson's Bridge
to Terabithia—but Prosek never manages it.
Of course,
this emotional detachment could be intentional. Perhaps Jeremy—and,
in turn, Prosek—is purposefully hiding his discomfort
behind an almost journalistic first person narration. Or perhaps
the prose is conscious of its target audience: teens and 'tweens,
many of whom currently dismiss introspection as "emo." In
that regard, The Day My Mother Left succeeds in its
lack of self-pity, but it is consequently a little hallow
and cold—almost clinical in its approach to one's self.
Plus, after Jeremy buried his more complex thoughts throughout
the novel, the bursts of emotion at the end seem a little
forced and, ultimately, underdone. Overall, the book is a
worthwhile read, but it only skims the surface of the issues
and its audience's capacity to relate.
(September,
2007)
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