Miriam Toews: A Complicated Kindness

Reviewed by JANET MCALLISTER

Look past this book's dreary cover and forgettable title, and you will find an exceptionally graceful and well-written novel. It's funny, to boot. "We're Mennonites. As far as I know, we are the most embarrassing sub-sect of people to belong to if you're a teenager," says Nomi, the teenage narrator.

She and her father Ray, who's been "using the word 'stomach' as a verb a lot", are trying to stomach the fact that neither Nomi's sister nor mother have been heard from in three years.

Her sister was a rebel against the sect rules, which include no dancing, no movies, no rock'n'roll or swimming. Her mother got into trouble for things like "throwing a couple of romance novels into a [missionary] barrel headed for Nicaragua".

Ray copes with their loss by sitting in a deck chair on the lawn, watching Hymn Sing on television, and occasionally selling off vital pieces of furniture. Nomi stays up all night scoring drugs with her boyfriend — not atypical behaviour for Mennonite high school kids.

Nomi figures they're only filling in time before taking their places "on the assembly line of death" at the local chicken abattoir anyway.

The head of the church, responsible for judgment and excommunication ("the old heave-ho"), is Nomi's Uncle Hans. Contemptuously nicknamed the Mouth of Darkness (or "the Mouth" for short), he hovers threateningly in the background, near God-like in power, without God's supposed wisdom or kindness.

Nomi is a beautifully-drawn coming-of-age heroine: storm-buffeted yet sharply astute, vulnerable, hiding her grief under an armour of wry, defiant wit. She holds the reader's sympathy without doing anything so crass as to solicit it.

What might have been a gloomy portrayal of despair becomes an enjoyable read because of her humour. And yet, because turning her life into black comedy serves as Nomi's survival mechanism, the laughs cleverly underline her grim situation.

Toews, who grew up in a Mennonite community, writes with a light touch and is a master of spare, understated prose. Anecdotes and character studies flow easily.

The book has deservedly been nominated for Canada's premier literature prize, the Giller, to be announced on November 11. Nomi, sick of the Narnia series and pining for East Village, would "kill to own a New York City phone book". Such details make own story a great read.

* Faber & Faber, $29.95