'Unsheltered' by Barbara Kingsolver

The New York Times bestselling author of Flight Behavior, The Lacuna, and The Poisonwood Bible and recipient of numerous literary awards—including the National Humanities Medal, the Dayton Literary Peace Prize, and the Orange Prize—returns with a timely novel that interweaves past and present to explore the human capacity for resiliency and compassion in times of great upheaval.

MY THOUGHTS:

I put this on my wish list when I first saw it brand new for big bucks at my city Dymocks, but stuck to my budget which doesn't allow for expensive new releases. Down the track, just recently, I spotted it at a local second shop for just $5, and you can bet I jumped on it. 

I like a good dual timeline story. The two main characters are linked by the same decrepit house they find themselves living in, over a century apart. In 2016, Willa Knox is told that the family home she's inherited is fit only for demolition. It's the same day her son's girlfriend commits suicide shortly after giving birth to Willa's first grandchild. And back in 1874, Thatcher Greenwood discovers structural issues in the house he shares with his wife and in-laws, but they refuse to listen. Needless to say, it's the same address. Thatcher is a frustrated Science teacher who's trying to teach Charles Darwin's new discoveries to his High School students, but nobody wants a bar of them; least of all his employer, Principal Cutler. 

This is only my second Kingsolver novel so far, and they've both been what I'd call 'soapbox stories'. There are several scenes with characters sitting around in lounge rooms discussing politics, which makes the writing feel a bit static at times. Weaving a political agenda into her fiction seems to be her trademark, and some of the grievances are very up-to-date in this one. The issues she addresses actually make me glad to live in Australia, where it appears we're looked after far better when it comes to medical care and student loans. Kingsolver's 21st century characters often discuss Donald Trump without actually mentioning him by name, yet it's clear who's under the microscope. I once heard Kingsolver speak here in Australia, and she mentioned hate mail she receives from disgruntled readers, including occasional death threats. I say, 'Good on you, Barbara!' It can't be easy to stand among those brave and principled authors who are prepared to take backlash for their convictions.  

Willa's sections speak to me because she's a middle-aged parent of young adults still at home. She wonders why she and Iano, her husband, are in a financial mess after trying hard all their lives to make the prescribed moves to stay ahead of the rat race. Her epiphany comes from her free-spirited, hippy-ish, mid-twenties daughter Tig. 'The secret of happiness is having low expectations.' 

Willa is a Baby Boomer/Gen X citizen who was brought up on advice to shoot for the moon, because we can achieve anything if we try hard enough. We hitch our wagons to the stars, then crash hard when our plans are derailed. Perhaps it takes thoughtful millennials like Tig to set us straight. Maybe those of us born through to the seventies are just now coming to realise we've been fed an exaggeration. That hard work = smashing success formula isn't as reliable as we've been promised, because the world isn't stable. This novel suggests that learning to accept whatever comes and regarding small pleasures with big gratitude may be the secret, not of getting ahead, but of living with some measure of contentment. 

As for Thatcher's tight spot, I enjoyed reading about his heartbreaking dead-ends when trying to teach Darwinism, and his deep friendship with his next door neighbour Mary Treat, (who was actually a true, living person). I'm among those who never had trouble accepting Christian faith and the basics of natural selection simultaneously, and I appreciate that Thatcher and Mary seemed to share my mindset. They reason that 'Mr Darwin's argument doesn't malign divinity, as several people seem to think it does.' One good line is Mary's, 'To have been made the creatures we are is a marvel. If the process required millenia rather than seven days, how can it be any less sublime?'     

On the surface, it seems the plights faced by characters in the different timelines have nothing in common, but thoughtful reflection suggests they're similar after all. People always panic when their philosophical foundations crumble. Nobody ever wants to start fresh on the bottom rung when they've grown up with certain paradigms and beliefs cemented in place. The colossal waste of time this implies is just scraping the surface. But staying stubborn and lashing out at others is the ultimate ostrich behaviour. 

It's a really interesting read, but not perfect. The characters sometimes tread a fine line between being well-rounded and being mere mouthpieces. The nineteenth century thread seemed to peter out a bit. I would have liked to be filled in a little more on what happened to Thatcher after the events related in this story, and maybe even be told how he eventually died. As for the twenty-first century thread, toward the end, I'm left with major uneasiness that Willa's family situation is a tinder box waiting to explode.

  [A few spoilers ahead] Her children, Zeke and Tig, have never got along well together, and now Tig has decided she wants to raise her brother's baby, without getting his approval. Zeke has requested his parents to be temporary guardians, but now Willa and Iano will be living in premises that make it impossible. Tig's solution seems ideal to them, since she adores baby Dusty and Zeke's high-flying lifestyle leaves him no room for a baby. I think Barbara Kingsolver expects us to agree it's logical all round. But whoa, things could change at any moment. If Zeke ever wants Dusty back, the proverbial you-know-what will really hit the fan! I'm glad this story stops before that has a chance to happen, because poor little Dusty will be the one in the crossfire.  

Overall, I like Kingsolver's beautiful writing, including the clever transitions between chapters. The timelines alternate between chapters, and the last line of each chapter merges seamlessly into the title of the next, giving the impression that the history of 744 Plum Street is an unbroken continuum, despite the passing of time. In spite of the less than satisfying conclusions, I'll probably keep reading more of her books, although I tend to think they'll date over time, if they're like this one.  

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