SLEEP

The lasting effects of childhood trauma.

We meet Margaret in the summer before fifth grade, hiding under a blackberry bush in a game of flashlight tag with her best friend, Biddy, and their respective older brothers. Margaret wins, but when the kids rejoin their parents, her mother, Elizabeth, snarls, “You’re filthy,” and strips the mortified girl to her underwear in front of everyone. Elizabeth’s unpredictable mood swings are bad enough, but the nocturnal visits from her brother Neal that summer are worse: He fingers Margaret’s body when he thinks she’s asleep, and she’s too afraid of upsetting Elizabeth—who tried to commit suicide after her husband had an affair—to tell anyone. Unsurprisingly, Margaret grows up to be a confused, conflicted woman. She’s devoted to her daughters, Helen and Jo, but divorced for reasons she can’t wholly articulate from their father, Ezra, a kind man who never understood the depths of her malaise. Debut novelist Jones nails the details of a dysfunctional family dynamic: Subjected to Elizabeth’s blatantly unfair criticisms, Margaret perpetually “thought but did not say” why they were unjustified; when Elizabeth is searching for a word and Margaret supplies it, her mother says, “No that’s not it,” and supplies an incorrect one; and Neal grows up from a molester into a smug, right-wing creep. Despite its emotional accuracy, however, the novel seems oddly distanced. This may accurately reflect Margaret’s inability to express feelings or recall past events unacceptable to her family, but it doesn’t make for compelling fiction. Descriptions of her sexual relationship with a new boyfriend (she likes to be dominated in a way that flirts with masochism) are similarly authentic but alienating. On the positive side are Jones’ nuanced depictions of Margaret’s relationship with her daughters and of her lifelong friendship with Biddy.

Smoothly written and sharply observed, but curiously unengaging.