“The possibility that I might fail to express delight worried me. More than ingratitude, it would have been betrayal on a larger scale, and I was so determined to stop any honest feeling leaking out that the world seemed...
“The possibility that I might fail to express delight worried me. More than ingratitude, it would have been betrayal on a larger scale, and I was so determined to stop any honest feeling leaking out that the world seemed to shrink to whatever signals my face could come up with and your glances as you took them in.”
Nameless Lake, by Chris Parker, focuses on a lifelong friendship between two women, Emma and Madryn, and how this has been used in different ways by both of them. They are now married, to Aiden and Ben, and have young children. Since childhood the women have sought to find a way to live with themselves, pushing against constraints yet never quite breaking away. Where Madryn leads, Emma follows, but the reasons for this have always been complex.
The story is narrated by Emma who has long kept what she truly thinks to herself. Her life is a performance in which she has played the part of: daughter, friend, wife, mother. She considers therapy but even that is approached wearing the armour she cannot or will not shed.
Structured in short paragraphs that jump around in time and place there are a number of key threads.
Emma works with old paintings, stripping back layers of grime and previous conservation efforts in an attempt to rebuild what the artist intended.
She watches a YouTube series that follows a Canadian couple as they get rid of the clutter they have accumulated in preparation for a house move, a new start in a beautiful yet remote location.
She spends weekends away with Madryn to offer cover for her friend’s extra-marital affair.
There are repeated references to her late father, whose death scarred her in ways she has yet to process.
There is the importance of photography, creating images that capture a memory more than the truth of the situation.
Each thread is subtly progressed to build a picture of Emma’s dissatisfaction and how she hides this from those who think they know her well. What we do not get so clearly is anyone else’s viewpoint, even Madryn’s.
“We have built careers, entire lives, out of the things we have not said.”
At first the narrator comes across as a good person, supportive and loyal. When the cracks appear a depth of resentment is revealed. Her friendship with Madryn has cooled at times. Her loyalty to Aiden is not absolute. The inner thoughts she shares reveal how she crafts each interaction. If the mask ever drops she wishes to distance herself from that audience, to return to a safer place where she retains a modicum of control.
“I find myself beginning to speak without verbal shields raised in defence.”
The crisis, when it comes, forces Emma to act honestly. It is a shocking denouement but one that once again shifts how the reader may regard this composite protagonist.
Although something of a slow burn, what we have here is a novel in which I became fully invested, eager to find out what direction the narrator would move in next. I did not warm to Emma but could still root for her. The author has done a sterling job in portraying how it is the past that shapes, even when kept hidden.
“I learned how to build the picture layer by layer, how under-colours, although hidden in the finished painting, somehow control its mood”
A succinct and subtly developed tale of the ties that bind even when loosened. A fascinating exploration of the curation of memory, the emotional toll of maintaining an image created of self.
My copy of this book was provided gratis by the author.
