海角大神

It鈥檚 good to know up front that Rachel Cusk鈥檚 new book is a roiling treasure hunt of a read, because the plot sounds static and bare at first blush. In the flattest of descriptions, the novel concerns a woman鈥檚 frustrating experiences after inviting an artist she admires to stay in her guest house.聽

The real action in 鈥淪econd Place鈥� is inside the head of the narrator, known only as M, whom we meet through the discursive diary-type letter that makes up the book. M is bitterly observant, emotionally scarred, and tartly amusing all at once. We never learn as much about her life as we might like, but she makes readers consider their own existence through her ruminations on human relationships, identity, art, and power. Some of M鈥檚 interior landscape will be familiar to readers of Cusk鈥檚 other books, which range from a brutally honest motherhood memoir to an unconventional fictional trilogy about a British writer. (Cusk lives in London.)

We know that M, an author, has survived old domestic traumas and now lives in a secluded marshland with her second husband, Tony. They have built a guest house, the 鈥渟econd place鈥� of the title, to which M鈥檚 artistic acquaintances sometimes make pilgrimages to rest and create. The informal patronage satisfies M鈥檚 need to take in 鈥渢he higher things鈥� of life that she requires and that steady, quiet, competent Tony does not.

M writes to tell the artist 鈥� known only as L 鈥� that an exhibition of his paintings had transformed her life 15 years ago. She invites him to come experience their property and hospitality.

Her deeper motives are fuzzy but gradually come into focus: M wants to be seen as she truly is, darkness included, through the artist鈥檚 amoral 鈥� even cruel 鈥� gaze. To her, the 鈥渟econd place鈥� isn鈥檛 just the guest house, it鈥檚 the unhappy turns of her own life and the unacknowledged struggles of being a woman.

It seems, M writes, that 鈥淚 could never win, and the reason I couldn鈥檛 seemed to lie within certain infallible laws of destiny that I was powerless 鈥� as the woman I was 鈥� to overcome.鈥�

When the artist accepts M鈥檚 invitation, the situation gets complicated fast. He arrives with an uninvited companion: a fashionable young society woman who could not be more different from middle-aged M. Far from being M鈥檚 salvation, the artist seems to take pleasure in provoking her. Meanwhile, M鈥檚 21-year-old daughter Justine and Justine鈥檚 boyfriend have also joined the household.

Most of the story hinges on seemingly pedestrian questions that contain tense, smoldering pleas for closure 鈥� the sort that wouldn鈥檛 be out of place in a period drama. Will the artist ever paint M? Will he at least see the marshy landscape of her home in the way she does? What does she want from him, and vice versa?聽

And the friction between M and L is as constant as that between a stubborn match and its box.

As M puts it, 鈥淲hen the east wind blows on the marsh it makes everything feel very cool and contrary, even in the warmest weather 鈥� well, L was something of an east wind, and like that wind he fixed himself to the spot and settled in to blow.鈥�

The book is dizzying but also engrossing and thought-provoking, elliptically summoning echoes of everything from Rousseau鈥檚 paintings to E.L. Konigsburg鈥檚 鈥淔rom The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.鈥澛�

And if its setup sounds old-fashioned, there鈥檚 more than one reason: The author notes that the book 鈥渙wes a debt to 鈥楲orenzo in Taos,鈥� Mabel Dodge Luhan鈥檚 1932 memoir of the time D.H. Lawrence came to stay with her in Taos, New Mexico.鈥� It is intended, Cusk writes, as a tribute to the spirit of Luhan, a controversial patron of the arts.

Knowing the homage clears up some mysteries 鈥� both books are in the form of letters written to a recipient named Jeffers, for instance. M鈥檚 Jeffers is, oddly, never explained, while we know that Luhan鈥檚 is the poet Robinson Jeffers. Other parallels in the novel are less clear. Most readers won鈥檛 be familiar with Luhan鈥檚 book; we have to assume 鈥淪econd Place鈥� is meant to stand on its own.

Cusk鈥檚 turns of phrase are lovely and her philosophical points are sharp, for example when the artist tells M that he considers himself nothing more than a beggar. M鈥檚 retort reminds him that, as a man, he鈥檚 operating from a position of favorable circumstances in the first place. 鈥淗e couldn鈥檛 see his own freedom because he couldn鈥檛 conceive of how elementally it might have been denied him. To beg was a freedom in itself 鈥� it implied at least an equality with the state of need.鈥�

Typically, Cusk鈥檚 dissections of female power are especially perceptive when they鈥檙e closest to home, focused on the dynamics between mothers and children.

鈥淲hen Justine was younger there had been a feeling of malleability, of active process, in our relations, but now that she was a young woman it was as though time had abruptly run out and we were frozen in the positions we had happened to assume in the moment of its stopping,鈥� she writes.

By book鈥檚 end, the evolution of that mother-daughter relationship is the most satisfyingly artful, taking second place to nothing.