Nobody is Ever Missing: The Blogger Wishes to Say a Word
Inevitably, there are certain books I don’t feel up to the task of reviewing. Consider, for instance, Nobody is Ever Missing, Catherine Lacey’s 2014 debut. At the time of this writing, I am still scratching my head. Am I perhaps too dense to grasp the depth of Lacey’s prose? Or is this a case of smoke and mirrors, a simulacrum of profundity wrapped up in literary packaging? Do I have a bad case of lice? The answer to at least one of these questions is a resounding “yes!”
At least one Goodreads user placed Nobody is Ever Missing on a list entitled 2014 Hipster Books and Literary Fiction. This disturbs me for two reasons. First, “hipsters” are a species of human I don’t quite understand. They operate at a level of irony that eludes me. Confronted with their irony, I am like a second dimension being vainly attempting to imagine what life in 3D might be like. Second, in reading Nobody is Ever Missing, did I become a hipster without having realized it? Now that would be ironic. Help me, my pants are shrinking.
Nobody is Ever Missing (2014)
I don’t feel the need to recapitulate the plot of Nobody is Ever Missing, not that there’s much of one; this is a character study. In any case, Raging Biblio-Holism relates the essentials in a better review than I could hope to write. (It’s the review that convinced me to read the book.)
Elyria, a soap opera writer in her late twenties, unexpectedly leaves NYC for New Zealand. She is driven by what society so cavalierly calls “inner demons”; she is lured by the vague promise of shelter from a semi-famous poet recluse. She undertakes her trip without telling anyone, even her husband.
What’s most interesting (to me) about Elyria’s decision is that it is the inverse of the “adventure” narrative with which we are all so familiar: A person bravely decides to throw caution to the wind and pursue his or her dream of “adventure” in a foreign land, thus finding him- or herself and personal fulfillment. (Eat, Pray, Love, etc.)
Elyria’s story is not like that. Elyria is motivated not by a desire to escape routine but to escape herself, the incessant accrual of thought and emotion, for which an individual seems to have a maximum capacity but, really, to which there is no end. She identifies this part of herself as her “wildebeest,” a certain wildness that bucks against societal constraint and expectation, for instance, those imposed upon her by her husband. In traveling to the other side of the world she is indulging this part of herself not so much because she wants to, but because she must. (One of the Goodreads reviews I note above sniffed at the “mechanics” of using a wildebeest as a metaphor for mental illness. I suspect readers familiar with mental illness will be more forgiving.)
Lacey delivers Elyria’s story as a first person stream of consciousness narrative. As the story progresses, Elyria’s delivery becomes more abstract, more repetitive, more fragmented. Some readers might dismiss prose of this sort of a literary (“hipster?”) conceit, but, even when off-putting (as it at times is), it’s quite well done. I recognized in Elyria’s narrative patterns with which I am familiar. Lacey employs some startling turns of phrase. for instance, “person-shaped hole,” which Elyria uses to describe her husband.
Nobody is Ever Missing is not for everyone. Lacey’s narrative quirks, deliberately employed here to great effect, will put off readers who appreciate more straightforward prose. Nor is this a “feel good” story; be prepared to get some sunshine afterward. But for readers who appreciate truth delivered in fiction, Nobody is Ever Missing will prove especially rewarding, and is highly recommended.
This is tough, because I tend to review “speculative fiction,” not “literary fiction.” I can’t refer you to reviews, but I’m able to recommend:
- Swamplandia! by Karen Russell, which, although longer and odder, delivers some equally harsh truths with striking language.
- The Night Gwen Stacey Died by Sarah Bruni, also about a young(er) woman struggling to find her place in the world. Although less powerful than Nobody is Ever Missing, The Night Gwen Stacey Died is less bleak, and it has the added bonus of employing comic mythology.
- If you really want to get inside the head of someone who’s experienced mental illness, try An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness, by psychologist and author Kay Redfield Jamison. Mini-review about halfway down the page here.