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I noticed a phenomenon back in the early '80s, when divorces began sprouting on the
American landscape like dandelions after a spring shower. Divorced men with children would
disappear out of their children's lives, become involved with divorced mothers with
children and assume the role of fatherhood in the stead of a similarly absent father.
There were --- and are --- many reasons for this; the end result, regardless, was that it
appeared, from the viewpoint of one outside of this quiet madness, as if there was some
huge game of paternal musical chairs occurring, with the children, as unwilling
participants, ultimately losing after every round.
THE ABSENCE OF NECTAR, the second novel by the quietly blossoming and already brilliant
Kathy Hepinstall, is, among many other things, an understated commentary on this
situation. Well before we learn that the father of Alice and Boone, and husband of Meg,
has left them all for the charms and comforts of the woman across town, Hepinstall
introduces us to Simon, who, when the music stopped, Alice and Boone found seated at their
table, full of a dangerous and unpredictable anger, an invited interloper whose actions
ultimately prompt Meg to come, unexpected and unbidden, into their room one night to
whisper, apropos of everything, "Run." But THE ABSENCE OF NECTAR only begins
here.
I have never met Kathy Hepinstall; the impression I get from a few eMails (and I could be way
off here) is that she probably went through high school with above average academic
achievements and reasonable popularity, but was quiet and often lost in the crowd. I have
no doubt that at least some of the people who shared classes with her are shaking their
heads in amazement, wondering if this same woman who sat behind them in math class and
never said a word all semester, could possibly be the author of her previous THE HOUSE OF
GENTLE MEN and this new, quiet but stunning wild night's ride. Hepinstall works like the
best of today's contemporary jazz musicians, like Roland Guerin with a word processor or
Christian Howes with a dictionary --- what isn't played, or said, is often just as
important as what is. Hepinstall has not just learned this lesson, nor has she merely
mastered it; she has made narration by implication such an integral part of her work that
after only two novels she is rapidly becoming the master from whom others can, and should,
learn the technique.
One of Hepinstall's (many) great strengths is that she has not limited herself to a
particular genre. While both of her novels will certainly appeal to women, they are not by
any stretch of the imagination "chick books." While THE HOUSE OF GENTLE MEN was
a fantasy, it was also a mystery, a fable and, in some places, even an action novel. Yet
it spoke as deeply to answer the question most asked by men, "What do women
want?" as perhaps any contemporary novel written. THE ABSENCE OF NECTAR is as couched
in realism as this morning's newspaper. When Meg invites Simon into her home, we can
understand why she does it, even as we scream "No!" because we know Meg, we know
her secret fears. We can also understand that a man like Simon will be attracted to a
woman like Meg (with the converse holding true as well) in the same way in which lightning
will always seek the tallest object in an area to strike. We learn all this, however,
through the eyes of the children, who take all of the right steps to remedy the situation.
It is the adults, ultimately, who fail. Until the end, anyway.
THE ABSENCE OF NECTAR, like THE HOUSE OF GENTLE MEN, is a contemporary classic. This is a
book that can be read over and over, continuing to surprise with the simple effectiveness
of its language. I say this only after extensive field-testing. And as good as THE ABSENCE
OF NECTAR is, I have a feeling that Hepinstall's best book has yet to be written.
--- Reviewed by Joe Hartlaub
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