Readers of Alix Ohlin’s fiction will not be surprised to find an introspective narrator in her second novel (following Inside, which was also longlisted for the Giller Prize).
But what’s remarkable about Dual Citizens is how simultaneously intimate and distanced the narrative is. Readers feel like they are privy to all of the facts, down to the details, what she does while she’s waiting for her sister to be finished with her piano lesson and the courses she takes at college, without knowing the truth of any of it. You’re super-close and at arm’s length: it’s a strange feeling.
It shouldn’t be a surprise either. The book is structured in four parts, of unequal length: Before, Childhood, Motherhood, and After. Even from a young age, she sees herself as a “collector of patterns, a magpie in search of scraps”. This narrative is filled with what she has collected.
She is also an eavesdropper: “This was my ideal situation, to be present and listening in one room while the action happened in the next, and during those long dusty hours I was happier than I’d ever been.” And more comfortable when talking to someone with whom “talking…was like talking to myself”. That’s a whole lot of quiet.
As a film editor, she is viewing the frames of her life: “I heard as if from a great distance the sound my head made against the curb. I noticed my odd, sharp landing on the ground as you might notice a funny noise in your car just before the brakes fail or the engine catches fire.”
And she reevaluates the framework as time passes:
“When I was a child this block had been a universe to me, its borders unknowable, and it was unsettling to see how finite it was, how easily escapable.”
Dialogue is not simply heard, it is studied and contemplated:
“This is a summary. The actual speech was scattered and angry, and Robin kept interrupting him, defending Canada and Canadians – I think? – and her own life, her commitments, her ideology.”
And because there have been some fractures in her life – literal and metaphorical – she is even further distanced from her own surroundings, her own world:
“I asked how the weather was in Montreal, about which she harbored endless comments. In those years I often knew more about the forecast there than where I lived.”
So Dual Citizens is about two sisters, but it’s also about how one might tell a tale of two sisters.
It’s about the way that one might frame the telling, the process by which readers can examine the shape of the frame for clues about the architect.
If this isn’t the kind of fictional landscape you enjoy inhabiting, you’d do better to apply for citizenship in some other writer’s country.
(You can see all the shadows for the sticky-notes in my reading, in the image alongside, as part of the bigger shadow. That’s an indication of how enjoyable it was to assemble my understanding. But because this process reveals some unexpected truths, it would be spoilery to say much more about it.)
SHADOW GILLER 2019: You can also follow the Shadow Giller Jury’s progress at Kevin from Canada’s site and read Naomi’s reviews at Consumed by Ink. Our reading schedule for this year’s shortlist is here, if you’d like to mark a particular title on your own calendar.
I love the sticky notes shadows! Sounds like a really interesting book.
I think the sticky notes like it too. It emphasizes their mysterious side!
This is next up on my reading list and your have me really excited to get to it. Excellent review.
Ooo, I hope you enjoy it. And any other Giller-list reading you’re up to these days!
Love the sticky notes – that happens particularly with my Iris Murdochs!
Yes! Murdoch’s books always end up with a bunch of stickies for me too. Even when I try not to (because I tire of typing them, that’s all), she’s always saying something I want to remember!
It’s been ages since I read Inside, but I do remember liking her writing in general so I’m looking forward to this one. And no doubt her book evokes lots of thoughtful introspection, she’s a writing instructor after all-it’s practically part of the job description! hahahah
Right! It does make sense that the structure/gaze of storytelling would be at the heart of her creative work. And how fortunate that she has a paid position which will afford her continued access to publication, as it’s probably a little harder to get publishers interested in these kinds of interior-oriented stories. IIRC you have a sibling or two? I’ll be interested to hear if you think she gets that relationship “right”.
what does IIRC mean? I have two older brothers, one lives in Finland and the other back in Ontario, so I don’t see them much unfortunately…
IfIRecallCorrectly. I’m curious how readers-with-siblings compared to readers-without-siblings feel about the relationship here.
Thanks for this! Something else had gotten me interested in Inside recently & I just got it from the library, but this also sounds interesting.
Inside is another quiet novel that spends a lot of time in relationship territory. There is a scene in it, early on, which still pops into my mind whenever I hear a reference to one particular Canadian landmark. And I’ve read a few hundred books since then!
In one of the reviews I read, the reviewer thought Robin was at the heart of the novel, even though Lark was the narrator… but that Robin always remains a mystery. What do you think?
That’s interesting to contemplate. I do feel like Ohlin is asking how much of us is ‘us’ and how much of us is the way we connect (and don’t connect) to other people in our lives and experiences. In some ways, I feel like I knew Robin better than Lark (the nature of her relationships with four-legged creatures seemed especially revealing). Did you feel like she was a cipher or just plain underdeveloped?
I don’t think I thought of her as either one. But I did find her to be more of a mystery to me than Lark. Or maybe Lark is just easier for me to understand? (On the other hand, living in the woods with animals is very appealing to me!)
But it’s impossible to define ‘us’ separate from others, isn’t it? We kind of become who we are partly based on what we learn or experience from others. It would be cool if we could experiment (which, of course, we can’t!) by putting two babies in the wild and let them grow up with no humans and see how they end up differing. (Cool in theory, very uncool in reality!)
I’m not sure I thought of her character as either of those things either; I think I was just thinking more about Lark all the way through because we had the opportunity to “see” her more often. I wonder if different readers’ perspectives only vary depending on whether the readers are/have sisters themselves.
If it was a videogame, it would be fun to try that, play out the two different storylines and see how things end up! (But playing games definitely cuts into reading time.)
[…] To read Marcie’s review in full, visit Buried in Print. […]
I’m so pleased to say that this has already been published in the UK. It sounds right up my alley. As the sister of a brother relationships between sisters fascinate me. Given my own country’s predicament and my taste in fiction, perhaps I should apply for citizenship in yours!
You’ll like this one, I think, Susan. It reads very easily and the interior-ness is surprisingly satisfying. As for the citizenship, I can see the temptation from afar, but given that the hastag #wexit was trending for a couple of days following our national election earlier this week, because all of the western prairie provinces’ voting districts elected conservative candidates (and they were already annoyed that Greta Thunberg dropped by), I’d say it’s apples and apples (with an expected increase in the cost of fruit everywhere). But if you’d like to come for a visit, that’d be delightful!