Nandakishore Mridula's Reviews > Room
Room
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by

** spoiler alert **
Room by Emma Donoghue is an extraordinary book. It is not literary, despite the Booker nomination: the first half reads like a thriller of the darker variety and the second half like a tear-jerker. The whole story seems contrived, and one part (the escape of Jack from the Room) stretches credibility almost to the point of breaking. Yet, the novel is strangely compelling and once taken up, hard to put down. Why?
I believe this is because of the psychological and mythical depth of the narrative. The author herself has said two things prompted her to write this novel. One, the extraordinarily limited world of a person forced to stay in close confinement for an extended period of time: the second, the bond between the child and the mother, especially in the early oral stages where they are scarcely two entities. Let us examine each in turn.
Jack's Ma (she is never named in the novel: she exists only as the Mother) has been confined in a soundproof, eleven feet-by-eleven feet shed in his backyard by a psychopath (known only as Old Nick) for seven years. She has been abducted by him and kept there as his sex slave since she was nineteen: Jack has been born in captivity, her second child by Nick (the first had been a stillbirth). Jack has never been outside the shed. He calls it Room, and it is all the world to him: a living, breathing entity. What is seen on the TV is a myth, and all the people inhabiting that world are unreal. The only other real (or semi-real) entity is Old Nick, whom Jack has never seen, as his mother hides him in the wardrobe as Nick comes for his nightly visit. Nick is known to Jack only through the creaks of the bed as he rapes his mother.
Jack's world is claustrophobic, but he does not know it, as it is the only world he has known for the five years of his life. For him, the existence is idyllic, a composite entity composed of only he and his Ma. All the toys, books and collages made from junk by his mother are living entities for Jack. We see Room only through his eyes: Emma Donoghue has done a fantastic job with the kid's POV. He is very advanced in certain ways but extremely juvenile in other. His language is a curious mixture of portmanteau words, grammar mistakes, and long phrases picked up from TV. It is the brilliance of the author which makes us feel the claustrophobia of the atmosphere for Jack's mother even when he himself revels in it.
Coming to the curious relationship between Jack and Ma, the Oedipal suggestions are very evident. Ma still breast-feeds Jack, even though he is five (it is called "having some" - I found that terminology vaguely vulgar, therefore effective): his penis always "stands up" in the morning. This is the "mythical drama played out in every nursery", as Joseph Campbell said: the urge of the son to kill the father and marry the mother - and the father here deserves very much to be killed.
Jack is the hero of all the fairy tales his mother tells him, like the eponymous hero of most English fairy tales. His birth in captivity, escape and rescue of his mother also parallels the story of many a Godchild (Krishna comes to mind immediately). It is highly significant that Jack prays to the Baby Jesus, and also that the villain is known as "Old Nick" - the name of the Devil.
The book is split in two: the first part in Room, and the second out of it (or "Outside" as Jack calls it). The author's aim in structuring the narrative thus is evident; to show that Jack and Ma have become a single entity almost, impossible to separate. In fact, Room has travelled with them. The invisible prison continues to suffocate Ma to such an unbearable stage that she tries to commit suicide.
Ultimately, Jack is partially rehabilitated when he goes back to the Room and says goodbye to it. We feel that finally there is a ray of hope. However, even with that upbeat ending, one has to say that the novel sort of loses steam in the second half.
Still I will give this novel four stars for the daring concept and the craft of keeping the child narrator's voice genuine through 400 pages (no mean achievement): also for the very real claustrophobia of Room and the mythical and psychological dimensions. The deduction of one star is for the rather insipid second half and the totally unbelievable escape.
Highly recommended.
I believe this is because of the psychological and mythical depth of the narrative. The author herself has said two things prompted her to write this novel. One, the extraordinarily limited world of a person forced to stay in close confinement for an extended period of time: the second, the bond between the child and the mother, especially in the early oral stages where they are scarcely two entities. Let us examine each in turn.
Jack's Ma (she is never named in the novel: she exists only as the Mother) has been confined in a soundproof, eleven feet-by-eleven feet shed in his backyard by a psychopath (known only as Old Nick) for seven years. She has been abducted by him and kept there as his sex slave since she was nineteen: Jack has been born in captivity, her second child by Nick (the first had been a stillbirth). Jack has never been outside the shed. He calls it Room, and it is all the world to him: a living, breathing entity. What is seen on the TV is a myth, and all the people inhabiting that world are unreal. The only other real (or semi-real) entity is Old Nick, whom Jack has never seen, as his mother hides him in the wardrobe as Nick comes for his nightly visit. Nick is known to Jack only through the creaks of the bed as he rapes his mother.
Jack's world is claustrophobic, but he does not know it, as it is the only world he has known for the five years of his life. For him, the existence is idyllic, a composite entity composed of only he and his Ma. All the toys, books and collages made from junk by his mother are living entities for Jack. We see Room only through his eyes: Emma Donoghue has done a fantastic job with the kid's POV. He is very advanced in certain ways but extremely juvenile in other. His language is a curious mixture of portmanteau words, grammar mistakes, and long phrases picked up from TV. It is the brilliance of the author which makes us feel the claustrophobia of the atmosphere for Jack's mother even when he himself revels in it.
Coming to the curious relationship between Jack and Ma, the Oedipal suggestions are very evident. Ma still breast-feeds Jack, even though he is five (it is called "having some" - I found that terminology vaguely vulgar, therefore effective): his penis always "stands up" in the morning. This is the "mythical drama played out in every nursery", as Joseph Campbell said: the urge of the son to kill the father and marry the mother - and the father here deserves very much to be killed.
Jack is the hero of all the fairy tales his mother tells him, like the eponymous hero of most English fairy tales. His birth in captivity, escape and rescue of his mother also parallels the story of many a Godchild (Krishna comes to mind immediately). It is highly significant that Jack prays to the Baby Jesus, and also that the villain is known as "Old Nick" - the name of the Devil.
The book is split in two: the first part in Room, and the second out of it (or "Outside" as Jack calls it). The author's aim in structuring the narrative thus is evident; to show that Jack and Ma have become a single entity almost, impossible to separate. In fact, Room has travelled with them. The invisible prison continues to suffocate Ma to such an unbearable stage that she tries to commit suicide.
Ultimately, Jack is partially rehabilitated when he goes back to the Room and says goodbye to it. We feel that finally there is a ray of hope. However, even with that upbeat ending, one has to say that the novel sort of loses steam in the second half.
Still I will give this novel four stars for the daring concept and the craft of keeping the child narrator's voice genuine through 400 pages (no mean achievement): also for the very real claustrophobia of Room and the mythical and psychological dimensions. The deduction of one star is for the rather insipid second half and the totally unbelievable escape.
Highly recommended.
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Reading Progress
March 2, 2012
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March 2, 2012
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March 3, 2012
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Suzanne
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rated it 4 stars
Mar 03, 2012 11:31AM

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Why did it annoy you? I'm interested."
http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/...

Hmph. I had no idea, since I was a younger sister (by 11 years), have no children of my own, and didn't live around my family when my two nephews were younger. I just had it in my head that those sorts of things started up closer to puberty. *shrug* Interesting - learn something new every day. :-)

I remember I asked my mother once, and she shushed me (none too gently).

You should have seen her when I was learning about geology and showed her a piece of rock and told her "Hey, this is a piece of schist!... no, schist, schist; it's a type of metamorphic rock! Gheesh!"

Being a geologist,I am tempted to ask you whether you studied geology as your major ?

An interesting review, and I very much agree that the plot elements were too weak to sustain the "emergence" myth" if you will: i.e., the not-quite-believable escape and the aftermath. I have two comments you might find interesting.
One, I believe that the author is engaged in exploring something extremely important in the second half besides the intimacy and interbeing of Ma and Jack, and that is the fact that there is no "after" a trauma. Think of PTSD, for an example. Ma could never escape what had happened, even though the primary trauma was in the past, she is unalterably changed upon escape. If one is sustained by hope of "living through" something, it is almost unbearable to realize that it--the something--still lives in one.
If we could understand that fact, as a society, we might better deal with addiction recovery, transformative justice, and "help" programs. A Ghetto Gangbanger is responding to trauma that he/she hardly hopes to live through; if he/she escapes, that trauma is still in him/her. I once read a study of depression among teenagers who lived where getting shot on the street was a commonplace. So I admired the author here for trying to explore that idea at all.
Second, I find the connective leap from the situation of Ma and Jack to the surely discredited Oedipal myth unjustified and improbable. Not that the canonized Freudian version of human consciousness doesn't haunt our ideologies, including the author's, but I don't think we should automatically collude with the myth. Of course, this proposal merits its own long discussion, so I'm just offering my thoughts as conjectures. But I want to hypothesize that, yes, a young child will "resent" daddy if daddy is cold, distant, demanding, punitive, and essentially resentful of any time or emotion the mother gives to the "competitor." In other words, when the father is infantile and stunted. That does not have to be a normal son-father interaction, and such an interaction is not limited to male children and their fathers. The cathected (neurotically attached) relationship of Jack and his mother emerges not from human nature but from the traumatic circumstances of the plot. Perhaps?
One, I believe that the author is engaged in exploring something extremely important in the second half besides the intimacy and interbeing of Ma and Jack, and that is the fact that there is no "after" a trauma. Think of PTSD, for an example. Ma could never escape what had happened, even though the primary trauma was in the past, she is unalterably changed upon escape. If one is sustained by hope of "living through" something, it is almost unbearable to realize that it--the something--still lives in one.
If we could understand that fact, as a society, we might better deal with addiction recovery, transformative justice, and "help" programs. A Ghetto Gangbanger is responding to trauma that he/she hardly hopes to live through; if he/she escapes, that trauma is still in him/her. I once read a study of depression among teenagers who lived where getting shot on the street was a commonplace. So I admired the author here for trying to explore that idea at all.
Second, I find the connective leap from the situation of Ma and Jack to the surely discredited Oedipal myth unjustified and improbable. Not that the canonized Freudian version of human consciousness doesn't haunt our ideologies, including the author's, but I don't think we should automatically collude with the myth. Of course, this proposal merits its own long discussion, so I'm just offering my thoughts as conjectures. But I want to hypothesize that, yes, a young child will "resent" daddy if daddy is cold, distant, demanding, punitive, and essentially resentful of any time or emotion the mother gives to the "competitor." In other words, when the father is infantile and stunted. That does not have to be a normal son-father interaction, and such an interaction is not limited to male children and their fathers. The cathected (neurotically attached) relationship of Jack and his mother emerges not from human nature but from the traumatic circumstances of the plot. Perhaps?
Katy wrote: "Mothers are so uptight about self-exploration. One day I was playing with some kittens and pretend-growling (grrrr) when I thought it would sound more interesting if I added another sound. I fidd..."
And your father was, what?, supportive? That might present its own problems, no?
And your father was, what?, supportive? That might present its own problems, no?
Juanita wrote: "Katy wrote: "Mothers are so uptight about self-exploration. One day I was playing with some kittens and pretend-growling (grrrr) when I thought it would sound more interesting if I added another s..."
Sorry if I'm too gender-conscious this morning. I'm reading "Delusions of Gender" and I slept on a particularly aggravating chapter last night.
Sorry if I'm too gender-conscious this morning. I'm reading "Delusions of Gender" and I slept on a particularly aggravating chapter last night.

Juanita wrote: "And your father was, what?, supportive? That might present its own problems, no? "
Dad was not always there, of course, so missed out on a lot of this sort of stuff - I grew up on a ranch, where Dad was out in the fields or taking care of the livestock and Mom and I were at the main ranch taking care of the house, garden, milk cows, chickens, cats, dogs, etc... So, Dad was around at mealtimes, chore times, and at night, but since I was to be in bed by 8 p.m. when I was younger - well, so, most of those sorts of memories involve my mom - who was a lot more likely to freak out about things than dad anyway. Such a drama queen, she was... Heh.


For me, the greatest weakness of the book was the inconsistency of Jack's language, though at least by seeing everything through his eyes, we were spared graphic details.
