Love Orange
by Natasha Randall
(Riverrun, $35)
Reviewed by Sarah Pollok
Deception, addiction, surveillance and obsession may sound like the foundations for a great piece of fiction but how far are they really from the everyday reality of 21st century families? According to Natasha Randall's stunning debut novel, not as far as one
would think.
Told through the eyes of Jenni and Hank Tinkley and their suburban pastor, Father Brian, Love Orange presents an unforgiving examination of contemporary life and the lengths we go to survive its relentless anxieties. Because, while the Tinkleys appear to be the perfect "All-American family", with a digital smart home, in the nice part of town and two respectful sons attending the local school, their performative civility masks far grittier truths.
How can you be a father or a husband if you don't know how to be a man? That's the question haunting Hank, although he would be the last to admit it. Lacking professional success in a society that tells men they are what they do, Hank becomes obsessed with other conventional domains of masculinity; flaunting his supposed Viking lineage, optimising the family home and endeavouring to toughen up his sons through camping and sport. However, identity isn't quite so formulaic anymore, leaving Hank caught between the traditional model of masculinity and the new culture that denounces men to the point of shame.
Meanwhile, Jenni suffocates in the "marshmallow numbness" of motherhood; a painful mix of adoration and resentment towards sons she is now totally and irrevocably defined by. Not to mention the nagging competition with her husband's "smart house" technology, ever-attentive in ways Jenni can never compete. Most days it seems the only thing to look forward to is the correspondence she has with a prisoner via a church outreach programme. That, or the oddly pleasurable taste of his orange-coloured letters.
