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A review by ahsimlibrarian
Henry, Himself by Stewart O'Nan
5.0
Henry Maxwell is largely in the background in Wish You Were Here and Emily, Alone, so it is lovely to have this story narrated from his perspective. Henry is a wholly decent man, a WWII vet, a retired engineer who takes pride that he will live and die in his Pittsburgh community. In the previous Maxwell families, Emily is not entirely likable, although O'Nan always draws her complexity with compassion. But Henry truly adores Emily, and nearing their 50th anniversary he is still deeply in love with her, looks forward to their time alone, and laments how their daughter's addiction and their different coping mechanisms for it divide them at times. The small moments of a marriage and domestic responsibility like picking up dog poop, fighting the selfsame dog's grass killing ways, dealing with roots in the plumbing, and more are detailed with dignity and humor in this quiet character-study.
Some passages that spoke to me, as I also navigate issues with family members with addictions:
"It was tricky ground. While long ago he'd decided to let Margaret live her own life, Emily, out of guilt or a misplaced need to save her, still wanted to believe they could fix things, even on occasion defending her against him. Sometimes, for Emily's sake, he wished she would give up, but understood she couldn't. Just as often he doubted his own position, accusing himself of coldness, cowardice. What kind of father had so little faith in his daughter?" (94)
"A relapse, perhaps, though Margaret talked about her addiction only when she was clean, framing her behavior in the psychobabble of rehab, her poor decision-making miraculously relegated to the past. Clean slate. Attitude of gratitude. Let go, let God. Most likely it was another setback anyone who knew her could have predicted but that she would chalk it up to her chronic bad luck. A bounced check. A towed car. She was forty-seven and still thought the world was against her, as if the world cared. Whatever the news was, it would be expensive, and ultimately he'd foot the bill." (272-273)
"While she was away, he'd forgotten how powerfully she broadcast her feelings, filling the house like some kind of nerve gas. Now, as the days passed, he grew used to it again, its absence--that brief period of calm--harder and harder to recall. She could be cutting and abrupt, unthinking, yet, for all her faults, working beside her in the kitchen, or after dinner, watching her go over her lists, or in bed, listening to her sleep, he was glad to have her home." (351)
Some passages that spoke to me, as I also navigate issues with family members with addictions:
"It was tricky ground. While long ago he'd decided to let Margaret live her own life, Emily, out of guilt or a misplaced need to save her, still wanted to believe they could fix things, even on occasion defending her against him. Sometimes, for Emily's sake, he wished she would give up, but understood she couldn't. Just as often he doubted his own position, accusing himself of coldness, cowardice. What kind of father had so little faith in his daughter?" (94)
"A relapse, perhaps, though Margaret talked about her addiction only when she was clean, framing her behavior in the psychobabble of rehab, her poor decision-making miraculously relegated to the past. Clean slate. Attitude of gratitude. Let go, let God. Most likely it was another setback anyone who knew her could have predicted but that she would chalk it up to her chronic bad luck. A bounced check. A towed car. She was forty-seven and still thought the world was against her, as if the world cared. Whatever the news was, it would be expensive, and ultimately he'd foot the bill." (272-273)
"While she was away, he'd forgotten how powerfully she broadcast her feelings, filling the house like some kind of nerve gas. Now, as the days passed, he grew used to it again, its absence--that brief period of calm--harder and harder to recall. She could be cutting and abrupt, unthinking, yet, for all her faults, working beside her in the kitchen, or after dinner, watching her go over her lists, or in bed, listening to her sleep, he was glad to have her home." (351)