Emma Donoghue's Room

I just finished Emma Donoghue's Room last night. I would have finished it sooner but a stomach bug really floored me over the last couple of days. I didn't feel like reading, eating, or doing anything other than groaning. Groaning was good. I became a good groaner, a world-class groaner, while I was sick.

I guess the other reason I didn't finish until last night was because the book is so absorbing and so emotional. The story is of a mother and son, trapped for seven years in an 11x11 foot room by a crazy man. Five year old Jack was born in the room (son of the man who continually rapes his mother) and narrates the story. He has never been outside and has never spoken to anyone else. His mother (Ma) has told him that what they see on TV (supplied by their captor), is all fantasy, other worlds, not real. The only reality for Jack is what is in this room. Ma fills their days with routines, like Gym, Reading, and all sorts of games, despite having only five books (which they read again and again) and very few other ways of occupying themselves. Jack sleeps in the wardrobe, but peeks out to see their captor when he arrives in the dark.

The novel could have devolved into horror or exploitation but it doesn't. Donoghue makes a point of satirizing our culture's obsession with fame, with investigation, with the next horrible story, with the need to find heroes and inspiration. She could have easily written Ma's character as a perfect heroine, able to raise her boy and keep him safe in ridiculously perverse, difficult circumstances. Instead, Ma unravels once she is free of their captor. Her desires for people, for normalcy, for the way things were conflict with her need for isolation and a return to the safety of rules and schedules with Jack.

And, as Jack confronts the real world, we see him facing things we don't even think about, e.g. that oncoming cars in the other lane aren't going to hit you, that rain falling from the sky won't hurt you. What could have been an annoying device (having a 5 year old narrator for the duration of the book) is not. It never feels contrived but always fresh and new. His observations and language are always a 5 year old's (that waiting for something always takes hundreds of hours) and never feel forced. Our understanding of what is going on is seen through Jack. The only variation of his voice comes a result of a game he and Ma call Parrot, where Jack is supposed to spit back the exact language he hears on TV, from nature shows, news reports, and movies. Later, you realize he is playing Parrot when he relays the details of overheard adult conversations—a neat narrative trick which may be the least believable part of the book.

So, in the end, an engaging read, one that made me think of nature vs. nurture debates and the relationship between parents and children (what do kids need beyond their basic human needs?). Have you read this book? Care to comment below?