The
old adage --- never judge a book by its cover --- can also apply to
titles, as in Audrey Schulman's A HOUSE NAMED BRAZIL. Whatever you
might be imagining at this point, it's unlikely that it will come
close to what you'll discover in this highly innovative novel. If
you envisioned an exotic plantation festooned with tropical foliage
and colorful macaws, you're in for a shock. "The house," which
appears later in the storyline, is ramshackle collage of endless
appendages sprawling through the Florida swampland: grotesque,
roughly constructed and flawed, like it's inhabitants. But don't be
disillusioned; Schulman has masterfully fashioned this definitive
setting for the various generations of the Mourne family that were
gathered, once upon a time, within it's walls.Schulman's creative backstory of the Mourne family tree is
coupled with an inspired portrayal of the relationship between a
mother and daughter. A HOUSE NAMED BRAZIL primarily revolves around
Fran, the great great granddaughter of the matriarch of the
Mournes, and Fran's mother Gloria, who abandoned her when she was a
child of 14. Over the years, Fran's feelings toward her mother
fluctuated between painful longing and angry dismissal; but now, at
the age of 40, she finds herself anchored to their dilapidated
house on the run-down Canadian farm where memories of her mother
assail her daily."My
mother had always been charismatic. I'd seen it. Strangers followed
after her with their eyes, people phoned her after meeting her
once, after listening to her talk for just 20 minutes...Her voice
was so certain, her gestures dramatic, her walk suggested she knew
something...People wanted to be around her...I was not the only
person she captivated. I was just her daughter. It was just she was
all the family I had. Her face the upholstery of my
memories."Her
unflagging adoration for this woman who was hardly the epitome of
motherhood is palpable and serves to deepen the tragic image of a
lonely young girl struggling to survive on her own. When her mother
begins phoning her, Fran savors the nightly phone calls and
imagines that her mother, in her own way, is reaching out to her at
last.Although much of Fran's story is heart wrenching, her memories
are often laced with an undercurrent of humor as well, as she
reflects on some very typical mother/daughter moments. "I remember
one afternoon, an afternoon when she told me I didn't want to go
swimming. She told me I wanted to take a nap instead. She told me I
was overtired as it was. I stood there in my tie-dyed swimsuit and
lime-green flip-flops, staring at her. I was 12 years old." And
after defying her mother and going swimming anyway, Fran ends up
with a headache, heat exhaustion, and finally the flu. Grudgingly
she echoes the sentiments of every teenage girl: "I must say the
reason I was most furious at my mom --- furious to the very depths
of my soul --- was for being right."The
fact that Fran is still hoping for a reunion with her mother is
sadly countered by Gloria's determination to remain inaccessible.
Yet Gloria has the equally urgent agenda to enlighten her daughter
on the generations of Mournes that inhabited both the farm in
Canada and "the house" in Florida. As Gloria fills in the gaps in
the family's history with a series of anecdotes on it's more
nefarious members, her nightly stories become devilishly
intriguing; and as the ghosts of the past become an irreparable
part of the present, both mother and daughter discover much about
themselves and each other.While A HOUSE NAMED BRAZIL may not have the most appealing cast
of characters, Schulman's complex presentation is a remarkable
blend of phone dialogues between mother and daughter and Fran's own
narration of events. And despite the fact that this is the most
grossly dysfunctional family one could hope to never meet, you may
find yourself impatiently anticipating that next nightly phone
call; the next revelation in the astonishing saga.---
Reviewed by Ann Bruns (BkPageWC@aol.com)