Kingsolver’s latest book left me craving both more and less. More of her beautifully-rendered characters, her humor-laden insights into marriage and in-laws and parenting, her often lovely descriptions of the world around us. But definitely less of her pretentiousness, her agenda-driven plotting (or should I say plodding), her rather blatant lecturing troweled on top of a simple and poignant story of human need.
Kingsolver begins her novel showing young Appalachian farmwife and mother Dellarobia Turnbow struggling uphill to the backwoods of her in-laws property for an illicit tryst with a handsome young stranger from the telephone company. She has conducted many flirtations as a fantasy-laden escape from a dull marriage and even duller existence, but this is the first time she has decided to follow through and thereby force the dissolution of her marriage. Half-way there, however, she comes upon a miraculous sight that stops her in her tracks, and which she takes as a sign to return home and become a different person: the woods appear to be aflame around a burning lake. Only later does she discover that it is a vast flock of monarch butterflies which, confused by climate changes, have settled on her land rather than make their centuries’-old annual trek to Mexico.
The town takes Dellarobia’s revelation to be divine, and some—including her embittered mother-in-law—plan to make money off it. Her father-in-law, however, has just sold logging rights to that same land, to enable him to pay off farm loans that have ballooned out of control. Dellarobia senses a change in her life, but doesn’t know what to make of it or how to make it happen. And her husband plods along, uninspired by developments around him but blindly secure in his life as husband, father, and son to his controlling mother. The media hones in on the butterflies, and one day, a handsome, sophisticated, married—and, of course, Harvard-trained–scientist shows up with a gaggle of graduate students in tow to settle on her land and begin to study the wayward migration phenomenon. Dellarobia’s newest crush ensues but before anything happens, we are informed that the stunningly gorgeous appearance of the monarchs is actually a “biological malignancy,” and the lectures on man’s inhumanity to Nature now start to come fast and furious, completely overwhelming the story.
All that said, there continue to be some lovely literary moments throughout, but I was unable to get past my irritation at the rather blatant propaganda. Another bone I have to pick is Kingsolver’s decision to inexplicably give her leading character the name of a 15th century Italian sculptor, her daughter the name of a Shakespearean heroine and her son a name which conjures up images of wealth and privilege. Her story takes place in Appalachia, for goodness sake. Even the scientist comes burdened with the name of Ovid Emerson, and his wife the name Juliet. What is Kingsolver thinking? [alert: spoilers ahead] And finally, the books’ end left me gasping in disbelief. Right after telling her precocious 6-year-old son that she and daddy are splitting and that she is going to college, the unfazed little boy heads off to school and a flood comes and washes away Dellarobia’s unsubstantial home and former life, while she watches in wonder. The End!