Tim Jones
Hilary and David, by Laura Solomon (Proverse Hong Kong, 2011), 162 pp., $24.00.
Hilary and David is a novel told in the form of an exchange of letters — though actually, to be fair, since this a 2011 novel it’s told in the form of an exchange of Facebook messages; but they read more like letters, or at least emails, than the fragmentary conversations I tend to have with Facebook friends.
The messages are between Hilary, a young New Zealand woman struggling to raise two children on her own, and David, an English author in his eighties, stubbornly producing books that sell just enough to get his next book published and no more. Hilary’s life is made much more difficult by the fact that her son Wyatt has ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder), while Harry has Down syndrome.
Hilary gets in touch with David, as one does, through mutual friends. They begin to exchange messages about their lives, their work, and their difficulties. Things happen in their lives, and they talk about them. Once, they meet, though the meeting is not directly described. Occasional sections of the book are written in a third, authorial voice. And that, in broad outline, is what happens in Laura Solomon’s novel Hilary and David.
If I had only had that outline to work with, I wouldn’t have been sure whether or not I would find Hilary and David interesting. That I did, and ended up staying up later than I intended to find out what became of the characters at the novel’s ending, is a testament to Laura Solomon’s skill as a writer.
I suppose the perfect reader for this book is a writer who knows what it is like to raise young children. Of the two main characters, Hilary has it tougher: she is saddled with two children to raise on her own. With, as the novel opens, no support from anyone but her Mum, she is living on the poverty line and despairing of her future.
But David doesn’t have an easy life either. He suffers from agoraphobia, his wife is dead, one of his sons is a corporate high-flyer and serial womaniser while the other has broken off contact with him. He clings on towards the bottom of the literary food chain, writing productively but not remuneratively, managing to find publishers for his new books, getting minor placings in the occasional literary competition, hoping that some time between now and his approaching death one of his books will somehow, magically, grab him a small slice of fame and fortune as a reward for all his dedication to the art and craft of writing. (If you are a writer, and you have never found yourself in David’s shoes, then you have my congratulations!)
I won’t give away any more about the plot of Hilary and David, except to say that it’s not all hopeless: each character makes progress in achieving at least some of their goals during the course of the novel.
The aspect of this book that works best for me, and the thing that makes it most worth reading, is the relationship between the titular characters and the way that, without coming across as two case studies from a psychotherapy textbook, they assuage each other’s fears and help each other deal with besetting problems.
I also decided, after some initial uncertainty, that I liked the occasional intrusions of the authorial, or at least narratorial, voice: these segments provide a more nuanced view of each character than they are able or willing to provide of themselves.
I did not find everything in Hilary and David so convincing. It seemed to me that Hilary sounded older than her years, and David younger; perhaps, though, that is just the gravitational pull of my own age, roughly midway between that of the two main characters.
Some very worrying things happen to Hilary’s son Wyatt in the course of this novel, and during one episode in particular, her reaction, at least as reported to David, seemed far less desperate than I would have imagined. The passages in the narratorial voice often have more emotional impact than the epistolary passages, and since the epistolary passages predominate, this reduces the immediacy and emotional impact of the novel.
As I mentioned earlier, the characters meet once in person: David flies out to stay with Hilary. Since they talk rather than exchange Facebook status updates while they are under the same roof, this episode is only referred to in retrospect; there is no authorial commentary on it, and it seems to make little difference to the course of the narrative, which makes me wonder – why bother including it? This would have been a good opportunity to deepen the characters’ relationship.
Did any of these weaknesses I perceived in the novel prevent me from enjoying Hilary and David? No, but they prevented the narrative from gaining the depth and richness that would have made it even more enjoyable and emotionally affecting.
Nevertheless, Laura Solomon does the two fundamental jobs of making me care about the principal characters, and making me want to know what happens next. Hilary and David is worth your time and attention.
Nevertheless, Laura Solomon does the two fundamental jobs of making me care about the principal characters, and making me want to know what happens next. Hilary and David is worth your time and attention.
TIM JONES is a poet, short-story writer, novelist, editor and blogger who lives in Wellington. His most recent collection of poems is Men Briefly Explained (Interactive Press, 2011). He won the NZSA Janet Frame Memorial Award in 2010.
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