| BOOK REVIEW (This review has also been published at www.701.com) |
| DETAILS FROM A LARGER CANVAS: A MEMOIR - HELEN McLEAN Book Review by Diane Wells |
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| This memoir might appeal to the generation of women who started raising families in the '50s but only if they are nostalgic for an era of tedious homemaking routines and, in a lot of cases, frustration and depression caused by their decision to mentally lobotomize themselves for the sake of adhering to social conventions - a pretty grim picture indeed. The status quo for women back then would probably seem ludicrous to modern-day feminists if it weren't for the fact that the only means of birth control available (or legal, at least) were the "rhythm method" and virginal spinsterhood. Nevertheless, I found it hard it sympathize with the author, who sacrificed, for the better part of her life, what could have been a personally (if not financially) fulfilling career as an artist in exchange for what seemed to me to be a very dreary, dissatisfying, existence - only the houses were changed to protect the innocent, so to speak. While she does experience fleeting glimpses of happiness throughout her life, they seem based more on a particular locale or residence than with the relationship she has with either her husband or her children. There is such minimal mention of them that they seem almost incidental to her story and not worthy of any in-depth characterization. Instead, Ms. McLean goes on ad nauseam describing her various residences in various cities and countries without hardly a word as to how this affected the rest of her family, almost as if they were just more baggage to load and unload. There are only two characters who leave a vivid impression on her. The first is an artistically- inclined but emotionally tortured young man, whose own story might have been quite interesting. The second is the author's eccentric, packratting, mother-in-law. Once again, Ms. McLean goes on at great lengths in describing practically the entire inventory of the deceased woman's estate when a couple of paragraphs would have sufficed to show Ms. McLean's disdain for material acquisitions. It was certainly a relief to read about how the author ultimately attains a certain level of popularity and respect in the artistic community in Toronto. There's a rather interesting account of painting Canadian author Margaret Laurence's portrait, and her recounting of historical background of French artist Pierre Bonnard finally displays her true passion for art (and not cooking, after all). Although she justifies her need to constantly change her physical location by calling it an artistic antidote for boredom, I perceive her motivation to be time-oriented - once the clock stops ticking and the hands stop moving, the clock is dead. As long as there is motion, there is still life. |
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