Jane Hamilton

There’s no polite way to describe this book, and some that are too polite. A hard-ass Victorian would hate it thoroughly, and many a critic will just pat themselves on the back like, Look at me reading a book. In general people refuse to look from the crime looking out, instead of the police or the press looking in, which means it runs against the grain, in some ways, although in others it’s deeply dyed in ordinariness. It’s like the opposite of the news, in other words.

It’s show more familiarity turned into a crime, without the external voice telling them what they’re like. The first-person aspect of it is central to the way that the whole thing is presented.

The errors that lead to crime are so gradual and commonplace that much of it is simple and easy to read. You hate your mom; you pick a bad boyfriend. You cultivate the veneer; you by turns idolize and burn with jealousy towards those not in the same prison as you. You don’t see anything wrong, do you?

At the same time, in the end it’s not about looking away from the mirror.

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“The day I’m working towards wasn’t so very long ago. I’m about to tell how it went so everyone will know. I’d like to think it won’t happen again. Once is enough for the whole earth. It shouldn’t recur and if I tell about the day, step by step, people can understand certain warning signs. Then nothing like it will take place again, not ever. I imagine, when I’m sitting here, that I’m ringing a bell, and someone will hear, but to tell the truth, I also know that it isn’t very often that people change their ways. Still, I have to ring the bell, keep it sounding.” (p. 253/294 nook edition).

I think a lot of people would either see this as fluffy dross (“your life’s not important enough to write about”), or, indeed, as a caramelized treat for the mind (“oh, so I reached the end, great”); I’m slightly distressed and greatly mystified by this.

I think that it’s about halfway between a comedy and the Holocaust, you know.

It’s like a sci-fi action flick, except nothing physically improbable happens, and you’re spared the balletic glitter of how rich you are, and the subsequent coming-down alienation realization that, indeed, you are not.

In other words, it’s the opposite. “There’s nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison.”

To me it is a prison.... and to her. show less

Insult added to trauma piled upon tragedy…and yet there is hope. First published in 1994, A Map of the World follows the journey of a counterculture couple, Alice and Howard Goodwin, through a cruel and life-altering year of their marriage.
Existence on Howard’s beloved 400-acre dairy farm in rural Wisconsin is insular enough, but the Goodwins are also shut out by the mistrust and misunderstanding of the small community around them. Except, that is, for Dan and Theresa, a couple with show more whom they have developed a comfortable friendship.
The book begins during a typically-hectic morning at home. Emma, one of the two Goodwin daughters, is having a tantrum at breakfast. In the midst of this, Theresa stops by to leave her own two daughters with Alice for the morning and departs. Distracted by Emma’s demands and the chance finding of her own childhood drawing of a peaceful world, Alice makes a fatal mistake that carries unbearable consequences for both families.
In the midst of dealing with one tragedy, and the loss of her only friend, Alice is soon dogged by the added burden of unfounded accusations from the mother of a neglected boy she often deals with (and dislikes) in her part-time job as the local school nurse.
Told first through Alice’s rich inner dialog, and then Howard’s, the story traces an unrelenting path through unthinkable circumstances before it ends in Alice’s voice once again. In the end almost everything has changed.
But be warned: the prose doesn’t just dog Alice and Howard’s footsteps; it deposits you straight into hearts and minds stripped raw as the pen of Jane Hamilton dips deftly again and again into the inkpot of pain and remorse. Yet, despite all, she has drawn characters illuminated with determination and hope amid the calligraphy of chaos. show less

(12) I have not read Jane Hamilton in years. She is a master at creating memorable authentic adolescent characters that tear at your heart. Phoebe Hudson has a coming of age summer before leaving for college. While this seems like a well worn trope - Hamilton uses this frame to do a much deeper dive into how we become who we are - belonging, identity, motherhood.

The relationship between Phoebe and Luna is quite well done - most of us can remember the intensity of the teenage best friend show more relationship - the competition, the love, the jealousy. I didn't quite feel the relationship with the O'Connor household and some of the goings-on there seemed a bit overwritten. But I guess everything is a bit random and melodramatic when you are a teenager. I did wish that there was a bit more focus on the Dahlgrens and Phoebe's relationship with Greta. I did not feel like I really "knew" Phoebe, accounting for the 1 star off.

Otherwise the book was structurally beautiful - like a piano concerto or a piece by Bach. The theme of music's ability to transform and transport was artfully woven throughout, yet not heavy-handed. The prose and dialogue were seamless, authentic, though not conscientiously so. Hamilton is a technically gifted writer and is so much more than a 'Women's book-club" pick author. There is gravitas here - but her characterizations were not as strong as what I remember from previous books. In my memory, Walter McCLoud from 'A Short History of a Prince' was masterfully rendered in his pivotal coming of age story.

I am glad that I made a return to Jane Hamilton, and I may look for her more recent titles that I missed. show less

Alice, the central character in Jane Hamilton's great 1994 novel “A Map of the World,” takes a one-two punch that could knock any of us flat, if not out cold. First this school nurse and wife of a Wisconsin dairy farmer is still looking for her swimsuit when the two-year-old daughter of Teresa, her best friend, drowns in the farm pond. Numb with grief and guilt, Alice is then arrested, charged with sexual molestation of a boy in her school. She's jailed for months, while virtually the show more entire community thinks the very worst of her.

Most of the story is told from Alice's point of view, but in the middle third of the novel Hamilton gives us the perspective of Howard, her silent, handsome husband, for whom a dairy farm is a dream come true. Yet a lawyer, not to mention bail, costs money.

A third main character is Teresa, a devout Catholic woman who despite her daughter's death, perhaps because of Alice's carelessness, cannot turn against her friend. At least not until she spends a night in Howard's arms, albeit the two of them consumed more with grief than passion. Still she and Howard now have their own reason for feeling guilt.

Alice is clearly not guilty of the criminal charges against her, yet her trial proves dramatic anyway, mainly because we see it through her eyes and can read her compassionate thoughts about not just those who testify against her but also about those women with whom she lived with so long in jail.

As for the book's title, it refers to a map of an ideal country in an ideal world that Alice had drawn when she was a girl. She finds the map, in fact, while she is looking for that elusive swimsuit, and the image pops up here and there throughout the novel. Alice's own story shows us that such a perfect world is impossible, yet by the end we see that the only chance we have is for the people of our own world to accept, forgive and even love one another. The story is really all about grace. show less