the way the crow flies

by Ann-Marie MacDonald

i found this work both luminous and dusky. its singing prose conjures an intimacy both of emotional and corporeal locus, and the language sings with an authenticity which absorbed me wholly. even at a hefty 811 pages this book was a pleasure to devour.

set in post World War II Canada, we are introduced to the McCarthy family as father Jack is about to assume his duties on the Centralia air force base. our first glimpse of the McCarthy’s is one of utterly bucolic happiness. parents passionately in love, children innocent and enriched by their nomadic existence. the voice of our primary character Madeline is remarkably genuine. this nine year old is intelligent and unblemished, and rarely have the impressions of a child been so authentically rendered and counterbalanced with the more sophisticated and nuanced perspective of the adults who surround her.

readers are privy to an array of forces which will begin to pull at the fabric of this singularly happy family in ways they cannot predict or even, once set adrift, begin to adapt to.

we begin with the depiction of post WWII politics and culture fraught with questions and concerns of the atomic age, and the author uses the alluring mechanism of episodic fractions of a nuclear fairy tale. the singsong narrative describing the mining techniques used to obtain material as well as slave labor practices which produced German missiles crafts a parable exceptionally evocative in the context of our sympathy for this child heroine.

in more direct, but no less compelling language the author communicates the paranoiac hysteria of the cold war mingled with a singularly Canadian sense of anti-Americanism; equal parts disgust, admiration, and inferiority complex. the author’s sense of time and place are absorbing and informative. subtle but meaningful distinctions of culture and context are woven expertly into a narrative about family dynamics, power, and abuse of trust that could take place anywhere. in the microcosm the author creates for us, we see a passionate belief in the value of the “space race” contrasted to an exquisitely sensitive and lovely portrait of a ripened romance between married adults. the innocence of childhood opposed to the cynicism of maturity. the drama of family dynamics juxtaposed against the pressures at play in the wider world.

all of these elements combine to make a mesmerizing tale and yet, this novel is, at its heart, a murder mystery. the foreshadows of tragedy are both tantalizing and oblique; simultaneously giving the reader the sense the outcome is predictable and that there is much yet to be revealed.

the book does change its tone significantly in the wake of the crime and subsequent legal proceedings. it follows Madeline into an adulthood which has aconsiderably different timbre than her childhood. eventually the tale comes full circle and all is revealed, but the jarring transition from child to adult, from singing evocative language to a quality harsher and more matter-of-fact is a mechanism i see the value of, but did not particularly enjoy adjusting to.

apart from this relatively minor (and probably totally personal) preference for more tonal consistency, i would say this is one of the finer novels i have encountered in recent memory. recommended, heartily.