It’s notoriously difficult to write about mental illness in fiction. The novelist always runs the risk of descending into cliche. Perhaps the greatest depiction of the condition lies in To Kill a Mockingbird, where the closing sections between Boo Radley and Scout shatter prejudices while demanding empathy from the reader.
Mary Beth Keane – whose novel Fever presented a lively account of “Typhoid Mary”, who spent 30 years incarcerated in a New York sanatorium on suspicion of being the bearer of a lethal bacterial infection – takes on the subject in an epic tale of family life in upstate New York that is both gripping and exhausting.
The novel opens with a couple of young Irish-American policemen, Francis Gleeson and Brian Stanhope, patrolling the streets of the city and becoming involved with their first hold-up. Guns are drawn and, in a Chekhovian moment, there’s a sense that this will not be the only time a firearm plays a part in the drama of their lives.
The action moves forward quickly to the mid-1970s, where Francis and Brian, along with their wives, Lena and Anne, have moved upstate to the suburbs and relations between the neighbours are not quite as cordial as they might be. The husbands are happy to discuss police matters, the children play together, but while Lena Gleeson tries to befriend her neighbour, Anne Stanhope makes no reciprocating gestures, behaving in a stand-offish fashion, taking to her bed most days and refusing to play any part in neighbourhood life.
The differences between the two families are well defined in the first third of the book, as are their basic struggles simply to keep their heads above water. The conversations between the couples would not feel out of place in a John Cheever story, with surface small talk masking the often-tumultuous rivers of despair lying beneath an apparently idyllic exterior.
Connecting friendship
Much of the action of the novel, however, is concerned with the children Kate and Peter, whose youthful friendship is the connecting feature between the two houses. As they move towards their teenage years, friendship develops into romantic interest and the differences between both are highlighted. Anne, suffering from undiagnosed bipolar disorder and depression, cannot bear to see her son consorting with the girl next door and frequently degrades them both with her words and actions, leading to an unexpected moment of violence that will define both family’s lives for decades to come.
It is towards Peter that the reader’s sympathies are most clearly directed. A quiet boy, introverted and reserved, he loves his mother but is too young either to comprehend her illness or to offer appropriate help and so he becomes a reluctant witness to much of her disturbed behaviour. In the years following her worst moment, he too seems to be deeply damaged, suffering from a form of post-traumatic stress disorder as he is abandoned by his father and left to pursue life with only the attentions of a benevolent uncle to guide his way.
Mental illness is something we understand in more detail today but in the 1970s and 1980s, where much of this novel is set, there was a great deal of ignorance and misconceptions about the condition. Keane, who wrote so well about life on North Brother Island, where Typhoid Mary was held, offers similar insights into Anne’s world when the medical authorities are finally entrusted with her care. But it’s in the heart-breaking relationship between her and Peter – a son who is trying his best to help a mother who is unable to appreciate his love – that much of the novel’s power lies.
Great compassion
Ask Again, Yes is a novel of great compassion and understanding. It concerns itself with forgiveness for, in accepting Peter and Kate’s relationship, both houses must overcome the past. If there is a flaw in the writing, however, it is perhaps that the novel feels overlong, with scenes occasionally overstaying their welcome. One feels great empathy towards Peter but there are moments when his saintliness becomes a little too emphatic. When he briefly turns to drink, I want to buy him a keg, just to lighten him up. His kindness, his devotion to Kate, his lack of interest in sex and his put-upon nature eventually begin to draw on the reader and perhaps with a little more edge to his character, he would feel more authentic as well as sympathetic.
But this is a small complaint, for Ask Again, Yes is an engaging novel, rich with story, and one of the better studies of the effects of mental illness on family life that I have read.
John Boyne’s latest novel is My Brother’s Name is Jessica (Puffin)
