The twin burdens of guilt and love are the fuel powering “The Other Side of the Bridge.” In her meditative second novel, Mary Lawson returns to the farthest reaches of northern Ontario, familiar territory to readers of her debut work, “Crow Lake.”
One of Arthur Dunn’s earliest memories is the 1925 birth of his brother Jake. He holds hazy memories of his mother and labor in the years preceding Jake’s birth, but at the time he was too young to realize what was happening. Only upon later reflection did he realize part of his mother’s fierce affection for her second son grew, perhaps, from several miscarriages that preceded his birth. In any case, it was clear to 5-year-old Arthur that Jake was precious to their mother, someone to be watched closely and protected fiercely.
The role of protector does not fall solely to Jake’s mother. “The day Jake took his first step, Arthur was formally recruited to the battle against the forces of fate. From now on, and Arthur knew this was a long-term assignment, his first and foremost job in life was to protect his little brother. In fact, he didn’t need recruiting. He already knew that his mother’s happiness depended on Jake’s well-being. Adoring her and needing her, as Arthur did, what choice did he have?”
The boys’ father does not think his younger child needs an infinite safety net. This lack of affection grows, over time, to something close to contempt. The elder Dunn has always had to face the consequences of his actions. Jake is growing into an ace at avoiding them. He runs to his mother for protection any time he’s asked to help around the farm. And he takes every advantage home offers to hone his manipulative skills, preparing them for release into a wider world.
Lawson’s work finely portrays the family tension building around two brothers who could not be more different. Jake is facile and fun, quick in his studies and a magnet for women of any age. Arthur is the reliable replica of his father, plodding through school but shining in farm work with an ethic deeply rooted in honest hard work. An accident, which is entirely 13-year-old Jake’s fault, only intensifies the simmering family dynamic and solidifies the roles. Arthur believes he is at fault, and his guilt only heightens his protective instincts. And despite his best intentions, his guilty reactions don’t end up doing his brother any favors.
Twenty years later, Jake is inexplicably out of the picture, at least initially. Arthur is married to Laura and they are running the family farm. Attracted by Laura’s beauty, 15-year-old Ian Christopherson approaches Arthur for weekend and summer work on the farm.
Arthur accepts Ian’s help. The field work is hard, but worth it, if only because it allows Ian an opportunity to spend some time near Laura. But his fantasy isn’t playing out quite as he envisioned. Between his work on the farm and Laura’s efforts to tend to home and children, the quiet, revealing moments never quite materialize. But ultimately it doesn’t matter. At the Dunn farm, Ian finds a kind of stability and safety that he doesn’t find at home.
The great part of Lawson’s narrative alternates between adolescent lives, first Arthur as his life revolves around Jake’s, and then Ian. Arthur and Jake move through the Depression into World War II. Arthur meets Laura when she and her father move onto the adjoining farm, but their eventual pairing seems unlikely.
Jake moves carelessly through lives, and a great part of what makes “The Other Side of the Bridge” work is that bad-boy Jake isn’t a cardboard cutout, he’s a fully imagined character. Both Ian and Arthur struggle with looming maturity and its attendant responsibilities. Both of them make mistakes, some with long-ranging ramifications.
“The Other Side of the Bridge” is long-listed for the Man Booker Prize, and while it’s impossible to predict what titles will end up on the short list, this novel is at least worthy of the initial honor.
The prose is as spare as the northern landscape. The picture of small-town lives, which cliché would make dull or uneventful, is rich and challenging. The story unfolds in small steps; this is not a book in which it is clear, early on, where the story is heading. You don’t care. The writing is so lovely, the characters and situations so fully realized, that it is well enough to be along for the ride.
When the threads of plot come together unusually late in the book, it’s a bonus. Knowing these people, sharing their lives would, in itself, be enough.
Robin Vidimos is a freelance writer who reviews books for The Denver Post and Buzz in the ‘Burbs.
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The Other Side of the Bridge
By Mary Lawson
Dial, 304 pages, $25
