Frangipani House by Beryl Gilroy

Even as she lay suspended, between being lost and the coming of her destiny, Mama saw Death and Life, both children of the same father, both legitimate. Death, dominant and conclusive. Life, uncertain and accidental, friable as dry earth, malleable as clay, and finally fragile as gossamer in the hands of death.

Mama King is getting on in years. Most her family has moved away from Guyana to the United States, and she is, in a sense, alone. Her daughters arrange for her to move into Frangipani House, a nursing home where she will be taken care of. But Mama King feels the loss of her independence keenly, and Frangipani House is ruled with an iron fist by the cruelties of the proud Matron, who resents Mama King's attempts to free herself. There are friends and allies among the other residents, but they don't stick around for long--Frangipani House reeks of death and decay. Perhaps that, really, is the reason that Mama King escapes to live among Indian beggars, who welcome her into their lifestyle with eagerness.

One thing I liked about Frangipani House is the way it explores what it means to be old and close to death, and to face a state of mental deterioration. Though it embodies a fundamental truth, I think we don't have enough novels that focus on this state of life, partially because people who enter into it are rarely up to writing novels, and partly because I think we are afraid to look to closely at life's last stages. For Mama King, it means living with a foot in two worlds: one in the present of Frangipani House and another in the past, where her husband, a no-good roustabout named Danny, gives her two children and then suddenly disappears in the jungle. (As a matter of fact, Mama King's close friends know a shocking truth about Danny's story that, it seems, can only unfold now, when Mama King is busy trying to wrap up the threads of her life.) But Frangipani House, perhaps, is no place for an old woman, because it treats Mama King like a child, when really she is something quite different.

Mama King's escape brings her daughters and their children back to Guyana to track her down. Longed-for independence turns out to be dangerous for Mama King--with the beggars, she finds herself in a violent exchange with a policeman that sends her to the hospital--but by bringing her family back home, it gives her a chance to endure the last stage of her life with the next generations that she fears had abandoned her. She is lucky, perhaps; not all the residents of Frangipani House get this. And though it's touching, it's not sentimental or too easy; in fact, I found this book extremely rich and complex for its briefness. Mama King is interesting, but so is the insecure, heavy-handed Matron, and so are Mama King's children and grandchildren who have taken part in the 20th century's mass movement away from the Caribbean. They are searching for a better life, but Frangipani House is, at least in part, about what they must leave behind in order to do so. (One character remarks that Frangipani House is a "Caucasian" institution, and what is needed is to go back to African methods.) And I was really fascinated by the book's rich and colorful Guyanese dialect, which combines fascinatingly with Gilroy's erudition.

With the addition of Guyana, my "Countries Read" list is up to 88!