Early on in “The Interruption of Everything,” Marilyn Grimes speculates on the nature of the elderly, particularly those who have somehow managed contentment. Some people, Marilyn tells her friends, look as if they’re thinking, “I paid attention to my heart and my brain once I stopped confusing the two. I finally got it right and here I am sitting on this park bench reading a good book, which I occasionally put down simply to watch all these young fools live as if life is some endless roller coaster when in fact it’s a waltz.”
Marilyn is tired of her own routine, and she wants to learn to avoid the common pitfalls of a life lived in the service of others. Yet Terry McMillan’s latest protagonist imbues even a discussion of weariness with lively observations, and “The Interruption of Everything” is an energetic story that stands out among midlife coming-of-age tales. Fans can count on the same qualities that made McMillan’s previous novels (“How Stella Got Her Groove Back,” “A Day Late and a Dollar Short”) successful: humor; warmth; a charismatic cast; and a world view that insists a person can (and should) demand something in return.
McMillan’s sixth novel centers on an African-American woman who tries to find some kernel of what she’s lost in the process of raising children in suburban California and upholding a long-standing reputation as the kind of woman anyone can count on. Once her children are out of the house, Marilyn vows to take back some measure of control. She applies to art school and she makes a point of pausing before she commits to the mindless errands that have heretofore filled her days.
Part of the novel’s allure, and what many readers will empathize with, is its acceptance of life’s refusal to abide by plans. As soon as Marilyn makes small moves toward carving out her own space, she is beset by new problems and obligations. Her mother may have Alzheimer’s, her mother-in-law is still living in Marilyn’s home, her husband has been keeping secrets, her body is undergoing drastic changes, her sister may be back on drugs and her daughter is pregnant, among other things. Through it all, Marilyn struggles to stay the course, occasionally consulting a self-improvement checklist she’s made for herself. Stop swearing, it tells her. Stop being so critical.
Marilyn isn’t only worried that she has lost touch with a key part of herself: She isn’t even sure what she may have lost. There is an intriguing ex-husband who challenged her more than her successful but bland current husband ever has. There is a talent for making things, but Marilyn’s is a hazy passion. She makes and redesigns pillows and lamps as much out of impulse as out of deference to artistic vision. There’s no specific thing she’s lacking, and Marilyn’s journey is not so much about pursuing what she wants as it is about defining it.
In the midst of Marilyn’s emotional growth spurt, her husband, Leon, emerges as an engaging character despite being confined by a stereotype. Also bored with life, he buys a motorcycle and a new, hipper wardrobe, and his brash overhaul provides a nice foil to Marilyn’s more timid approach to change.
At one point, Marilyn’s friend, Paulette, delivers a soliloquy (in the form of a more than 200-word-long sentence) summarizing the standard male midlife crisis. “Let me guess:” Paulette says, “(He) told you he’s leaving because he’s bored and now that the kids are all grown up he realizes he’s missed out on the most exciting time of his life because he got married so young and has been overburdened with the demands of it all and now here’s his one chance to get it back . . .” and so on. Such dialogue is what McMillan is, in part, known for, and its exuberance helps keep the characters’ movements fresh. Their situations are predictable, but how these situations are received is not.
Toward the end of the novel, all the plot lines Marilyn has juggled do converge, but it’s a rocky blend. Marilyn is so overwhelmed with crises that the reader is likely to suffer a mild case of literary whiplash. Granted, the chaos of the novel’s last 50 pages underscores the weight of Marilyn’s responsibilities, but other, previously important storylines are consumed by new developments, and the novel’s conclusion is appropriate but compressed.
McMillan has said, “Too many of us are hung up on what we don’t have, can’t have, or won’t ever have.” In “The Interruption of Everything,” McMillan again presents a woman who hasn’t wanted enough. Despite some plot overload, McMillan and her hesitant but brave Marilyn Grimes deliver a gripping story for those who find themselves in a constant state of preparing for change.
Nicole Backens is a freelance writer in Iowa City, Iowa.
The Interruption of Everything
By Terry McMillan
Viking, 365 pages, $25.95
