THE WOMAN UPSTAIRS
By Claire Messud
Literary
fiction
April 2013
Knopf
ISBN: 978-0307596901
Collisions between creating and privacy, friendship and art, love and honesty
are at the heart of the brutal, passionate and uplifting
The Woman
Upstairs, the latest novel by Claire Messud.
Uplifting is just about the last word that comes to mind when Nora Eldridge
begins her story. She is more than irritated or even cheesed off. She is
furious. Angry isn't volatile enough to describe her scorching, psyche-deep,
all-consuming rage. It's part of being a woman, an unmarried woman who teaches
young children and who once thought of becoming an artist, a woman who once held
an important corporate position and who could have married a man who became a
successful attorney. Nora knows this and she knows it's hardly acceptable. This
is Nora -- she is honest about how she feels, even when she does things she
knows are wrong, and she is about as honest a narrator as one usually sees. Just
when it looks like you've caught her being unreliable or just trying to fool
herself, she puts the record straight. As when she says:
I'd like to blame the world for what I've failed to do, but the failure --
the failure that sometimes washes over me as anger, makes me so angry I could
spit -- is all mine, in the end. ... I thought I could get to greatness, to my
greatness, by plugging on, cleaning up each mess as it came, the way you're
taught to eat your greens before you have dessert.
In putting the record straight about why she is angry, Nora goes back to
relate what happened a few years ago when she gave her heart away to three
members of the same family. First is her new third grade student, Reza, who
catches her eye at the supermarket before he comes to her class; his mother,
Italian artist Sirena, who is living the kind of life Nora may have once wanted
or thought she wanted; and his father, Skander, an academic who is a quietly
charismatic man.
From the beginining, Nora knows she's crossing the line when she realizes how
deeply she cares for Reza. When he suffers first one, then two, instances of
bullying, Nora crosses the line in taking care of him. Sirena immediately stirs
her sympathy and empathy. When Reza's mother suggests that they share the lease
on a loft space to create their respective works of art, Nora again crosses the
line and jumps at the chance. She babysits for Reza, she takes longer and longer
walks with Skander when he walks her home, she starts helping Sirena with her
installation. She's way too invested in these people.
Messud displays acute observations about education, art and how people care
for each other in this novel. It begins with Nora explaining an aspect of her
job, which in turn reveals truths about her:
When they tell me that I "get" kids, I'm worried that they're saying I don't
seem quite adult. The professor husband of a friend of mine has likened children
to the insane. I often think of it. He says that children live on the edge of
madness, that their behavior, apparently unmotivated, shares the same dream
logic as crazy people's. I see what he means, and because I've learned to be
patient with children, to tease out the logic that's always somewhere there, and
irrefutable once explained, I've come to understand that grown-ups, mad or sane,
ought really to be accorded the same respect. In this sense, nobody is actually
crazy, just not understood.
It's fairly obvious that Sirena, whether meaning to or not, is taking
advantage of Nora. After all, Nora ia one of those ubiquitous Women Upstairs.
They are Barbara Pym's Excellent Women. They are the Maiden Aunts, the Youngish
Widows, they are On the Shelf. They are there to serve. That is their function,
their role. They are not made to complain or complicate matters. No matter that
they once had dreams of becoming an artist, no matter they still feel the weight
of their own mothers not having a fulfilling life beyond housekeeping and
child-raising duties, that they could have married but realized it would have
been the end of their dreams.
This is how Nora is viewed. But she yearns, or how she still yearns.
Nora is someone who wants to be fully understood for who she really is, but
she isn't sure that she can trust anyone else to understand her. So she hides.
Until she gives her heart away. Even her art is compressed. She tries to make
little dioramas of rooms of famous women artists -- Emily Dickenson, Virginia
Woolf and Edie Sedgewick. One weekend, Nora completely obliterates the line in
her relationship with both Sirena and Skander and believes she is reveling as
her true self, as an artist. And it comes back to haunt her in what will be seen
by some as a huge betrayal and by others as an artist simply being an artist,
using what material is there.
The culmination of Nora's relationship with the family is not much of a
surprise. There has been plenty of conversation about ethics and history --
Skander's academic specialty -- and creating art, to warn the reader. And how
nothing looks the same to everyone. Much of what is conveyed is quite meta,
including Sirena's art, which includes in her installations objects remade of
trash:
... lush gardens and jungles made out of household items and refuse:
elaborately carved soap primroses, splayed lilies and tulips fashioned out of
dyed dishrags and starch, silvery vines of painted and varnished clothesline and
foil, precisely and impeccably made. I couldn't quite picture them when she
talked about them, but the idea made sense to me: visions of paradise, the
otherworldly, the beautiful, and then, when you're in them, up close, you
realize that the flowers are mottled by filth and the vines are crumbling and
that the gleaming beetles crawling on the waxy leaves are molded bottle tops or
old leather buttons with limbs. ... She told me too that latterly she'd made
videos of the installations, that the story of the videos was precisely this
revelation that the beautiful world was fake, was made of garbage; but that
first she had to film it in such a way that it looked wholly beautiful and that
sometimes this was hard. And also, she said, narrative was hard: when you made a
video, there had to be a story, and a story unfolded over time, in a different
way, and didn't always unfold as you wanted it to.
The ultimate beauty of the novel is how it ends. It's not one of those novels
that ends without resolution. And it is an ending that makes great sense
considering what Nora has revealed of herself all along.
She may be a Woman Upstairs, but one of the ideas that has been consistently
presented throughout is that no one should go gentle into that good night. No
matter how many times one may argue with and cajole Nora during the novel, this
is not an easily imagined resolution. It's a resolution that can make a reader
all the happier for having made the journey of reading this novel.
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