Mother, Missing -- Joyce Carol Oates

I had been disappointed with the last book I had read by Ms Oates, Middle-Age: A Romance.  The grotesque and weak characters she had introduced us to in that book had repelled me.  Yet, in spite of my decision to keep away from Ms Oates' books for a while at least, I could not help picking this particular book up - Mother, Missing.  It's theme of a young brash woman mourning over the mother she had lost so suddenly held my attention and I borrowed it from the library a few months ago.

This book, a recent novel from the author, is quite unlike the other two books that I had read.  I had gotten used to Ms Oates' meandering prose and often extensive descriptive narratives that can eventual tire one out.  But in this narrative, Nikki's voice is very distinct.  One can feel the initial contempt she feels for her provincial mother's set habits, dripping in thick layers from her tongue; one can also feel the change she undergoes during the span of that fateful one year of her life.  

The book opens with Nicole Eaton admitting, "This is my story about missing my mother.  One day, in a way unique to you, it will be your story, too."  Wild child of the family, she betrays to the reader a sense that she knows more about life than the mother who has never left her corner of the world.  Engrossed in her own schedule, marked by an affair with a married man, Nikki deigns to visit the family home in honor of her mother Gwen, it being Mother's Day, one of the many days of the year when her mother generously calls home all sorts of people to partake of a dinner she cooks with her own hands. Her hair in spikes and dyed purple, rebellious Nikki endures this visit with barely concealed intolerance, the anger gathering into a storm within her at the sight of strangers picked randomly off the street and taken care of by her innocent and generous mother. 

A few days after this visit, tragedy strikes when one of the strangers her mother had sheltered turns up at her house and brutally murders her.  Nikki is the one who finds her lying on the floor of her garage in the congealed pool of her own blood.  The experience is devastating and changes her from within.  No longer is she able to go about her life the way she had a few days ago.  The relationship she had with Wally Szalla breaks down because she is no longer able to put up with him.  She moves into her mother's house, though she never walks near the garage where her mother had died, and takes on the mantle of her mother's life.  She goes through her mother's 18-month calendar and is surprised to find it suffused with activities such as visiting elderly people, swimming classes, baking and even her children's birthdays marked out as a reminder.

People grieve in different ways.  Her sister seeks to separate from her husband, leaving one of her children in his care while she takes the other with her to lead a different life.  Confused, this mild-mannered husband hits on Nikki, something she has to endure although she feels bitter about it afterwards and is unable to relate to her sister the same way again.  She becomes her mother, literally, by visiting elderly people who had looked forward to Gwen's helpful visits and by baking bread by the dozen, refering to Gwen's secret recipes, whether there is anyone to eat it or not.  Baking seems to be a therapeutic activity for her, helping her heal in the year-long mourning period as she comes to terms with her mother's death and her own life which has been thrown to pieces in the space of a few months.  She learns many aspects of her mother's life that she had never known such as the heartbreak she had experienced as a young girl before her marriage.  The author underscores, with this part of the narrative, the truth that children can never really know the experiences that have made their parents what they are, that have shaped their lives and beliefs.  It is hard to imagine one's parents having lives of their own before the children were born; to kids, parents seem only an extention of their own lives.

There is something warm about this narrative.  So poignant, it touches one to the depths.  Nikki changes before our very eyes and seems to find herself at last, beneath the layers of wildness and rebellion.  She even finds that she can see into people; she can finally look beneath the swarthy looks of the detective, who has been looking into her mother's death and who has secretly harbored fond thoughts of her, and appreciate the kindness and caring that lies in his heart.  The author leaves us with the touching possibility that maybe, just maybe, Nikki can find some solid ground beneath her feet with this new relationship after all that she has been through.  

Critics were not happy with this sudden volte-face by Ms Oates, deviating from her usual kinds of books.  For my part, I am impressed with the way Ms Oates has handled this topic of grieving and healing in a domestic setting.  Nikki is a strong character and her gradual healing is a lesson to us all that loss can eventually help us grow.  A beautiful touching book.