Times Like These
by Rachael Ingalls
Mistress of Horror
A review by Hillary Frey
If Patricia Highsmith had had the chance -- and the inclination -- to rewrite
The Notebook, Nicholas
Sparks' sentimental story of star-crossed young lovers, I think she would have
come up with something much like the first story in Rachel Ingalls' haunting new
collection, Times Like These. Here's the Nicholas Sparks: As in his bestselling
romance, Ingalls' "Last Act: The Madhouse" features two teenage lovers
who find their parents standing between them. William and Jean break the rules,
have sex and, inevitably, conceive a child. William wants to marry Jean and have
a family. But his parents aren't so keen on the idea of their well-bred son "marrying
down." When William's mother asks her son to take some time apart from Jean
to think about what he really wants to do, he agrees, if only to get her off his
back.
During William and Jean's separation, the two write each other letters and
leave them in a secret place for retrieval. But it's not secret enough. William's
mother intercepts the letters (as Allie's mother does in The Notebook).
Even worse than withholding or destroying them, William's mother replaces their
letters with new ones, in forged handwriting, so that both teenagers wind up
so confused and betrayed they never speak to one another again.
Of course, The Notebook ends happily. "Last Act: The Madhouse" lives
up to its title, and in its last act grows creepier and sadder. Here's where
Highsmith takes over.
Years later, after his parents have died, William returns to his childhood
home. After discovering the letters Jean intended for him, he "went out
of his mind ... He slashed all the paintings in the house, even the ones he
has known from his childhood and had loved most ... He tore up all the photographs
of himself and his parents, set fire to the Anatolian rug, and walked out of
the room while it was still smoldering. He took his father's bird guns
and began to shoot into the walls, sideboards, ceilings and stairs." Days
later, he regains his composure, but never his wits, and sets out to look for
Jean.
In the story's second half, on a tip from Jean's family and with the aid of
a private investigator, William tours various mental institutions, looking for
the girl he had loved all those years before.
The search is not futile -- William does find a girl -- but remember: This
is not The Notebook. Like Highsmith, Ingalls gets at how obsessive love
ruins people's ability to reason; like Highsmith, Ingalls spins suspense out
of nothing more than real life.
Ingalls' stories are all grounded in human behavior and emotion. (In this collection,
they're also riddled with typos, which is a real shame. A writer this good deserves
a better editor.) In "Times Like These," there's nothing supernatural;
the tension hinges instead on that moment where, if one decision had been made
differently, or an invitation had not been extended, or a word had not been
uttered, disaster might have been averted. Ingalls puts her characters in trying,
even terrifying, situations so that we can watch them think and puzzle their
way out.
Some become monsters, others withdraw. In the novella-length "The Veterans,"
an ill-mannered and possibly mentally disturbed vet named Sherman seeks out
Franklin, the man who saved his life in the war, and becomes an unwelcome, potentially
dangerous houseguest in Franklin's cozy home. In the story "Somewhere Else,"
a couple sets off on a much-needed European vacation, but they find themselves
with a handful of others on an old-fashioned horse-drawn carriage ride that
never ends. And in the final story, "No Love Lost," a family returns
to its burned-out home after a terrible war. Shortages are so severe in their
town that neighbors are killing each other for scraps of food or fabric. Refugees
from other towns, also looking for sustenance, are simply tossed into the quarry,
and little children can hear their screams rising up from below.
Also like Highsmith, Rachel Ingalls has spent her adult life in Europe, and
is known better in her adoptive country (England) than in her native. I only
hope that Americans discover her before too long. It wasn't until after Patricia
Highsmith's death -- and the smash hit film version of The
Talented Mr. Ripley -- that Americans gave her her due. We shouldn't make
the same mistake twice.
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