I’m trying to read Colm Tóibín’s backlist, in anticipation of his new book. So I just finished The Blackwater Lightship, first published in 1999.
Set in Ireland in the early 1990s, it takes the protagonist, Helen, through a painful reconciliation with her mother and grandmother when the family is summoned by her brother, Declan, who is dying of AIDS. Helen has stayed in touch with Declan, but not closely enough to know that he has been sick for at least two years. She has a loose connection with her grandmother, who lives in an isolated town by the sea. And she is completely estranged from her mother.
Helen’s relationship with her own husband and two young sons is loving, but imperfect. She has a high wall built around her heart and is afraid to let anyone get too close.
The estrangement with her mother began when she was a tween and her father died of cancer. Rather than including Helen and Declan in the grieving process, their mother left them at their grandparents’ house, without saying why, for months. They had no chance to say goodbye to their father. They hadn’t known he was sick enough to die. And they felt the abandonment keenly.
Helen’s later experiences with her mother and grandmother were no better, as she was expected to be a dutiful martyr, helping support her grandmother’s guesthouse as poorly paid labor, at a time when she was desperate to take control of her own life. The tension when the three women are together is thick enough to cut with a knife.
Tóibín’s style is spare and beautiful. He always takes the reader deep into his characters’ psyches, so that the readers can experience the isolation and pain, and finally, a strained reconciliation. The details of Declan’s suffering are vivid, and a stark reminder of what it could be like for those with AIDS. The staunch support of his two close friends contrasts with the helplessness of his family. It is a difficult novel, but well-worth reading.












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