Some people believe in a connected world in which every one thing is cognate with every other thing, the bell tolling for you, for me. In this kind of world, orders are revealed within our own order, our beginnings woven with other beginnings, endings with endings. In this way, life is seen to rhyme with itself. For a long time this was my own religion.Martin Sloane, simply put, is a perfect book; why did I resist reading it for so long? There's a mystery central to its plot, and coupled with the poet Michael Redhill's lyricism and insight, I was urgently and gently drawn along right up to an ending that left me in tears – not tears of sadness, but the tears that come from being touched deeply; from recognising, aha, that's right, that's how it is to live a life.In 1984, Jolene Iolas was a university student in upstate New York, and after seeing (and being denied the right to purchase) a piece of art by the little-known Martin Sloane, she struck up a correspondence with the Irish-Canadian artist. Once they met, the two became May-December lovers; she acting as his muse and anchor for eight years, until the night he disappeared. Gotta go. While this – and its aftermath – is essentially the plot, Martin Sloane is about so much more: about art and memory and love and absence.Firstly, I loved the art that Martin created: primarily dioramas made from found objects in small display cases; this was modern art that I could understand (unlike that described in The Blazing World or The Woman Upstairs), and as presented here, I would love to see a gallery show of these works. (As Martin and his art were based on the real-life Joseph Cornell, that's approximately possible.) And maybe it's just my literal mind at work, but it felt like genius to me that Martin's childhood was eventually revealed, spotlighting what events would have inspired each of his most famous pieces. In fact, so many of his childhood experiences involved capturing something within something else that his life's work felt inevitable: A fetus in a jar full of formaldehyde; a woodcock in a box trap; or this conversation with a little girl in the TB ward of a hospital after another boy died – He was inside his mum once, she said, like she was reciting a nursery rhyme, and lived in a house. Everything is inside something else, even the air. But now that boy's in a box and he's in the ground. A worm will eat his eyes, and a bird will eat the worm, and then he'll be able to see his mum from the sky.That's how we recapture what we've lost, isn't it? By finding a way to put what we've loved into a box, even if it's just within ourselves. When Molly discovers that Martin's father had never seen one of his boxes, she states, “Well, at least he's in them. It's not a bad place for a person's soul to end up.” On its face, I found that to be a profound statement, but when later events reveal the irony of that exchange, it was elevated to genius. Jolene, too, holds her memories in diorama-like imagery; ideas that could be preserved in shadow boxes if she had the skill to make them: A willow's roots search for underground streams “like someone reaching their hand down through your roof at night”; she remembers her time with Martin “as if I were walking by a window where someone I used to know was sitting, looking almost like their old self”; her childhood memories are a disconnected jumble of gardening gloves, dusty shag carpet, a banana-seated bicycle, and jackdaws “creaking in the air over gravestones”. She also laments what is lost to history, like the crumbling walls of a once awe-inspiring castle or the ancient gravestones she finds with their names eroded by wind and rain, “Their stories, with their scandals, their love affairs, their unexpected kindnesses, all of it gone”. Additional layers of meaning are added as Jolene retraces Martin's childhood in Ireland and discovers those things that he had remembered wrong, and those that he had invented.If it's true as Martin says at one point that people get together in order to have a place outside of themselves to store their personal narratives, Martin Sloane perfectly demonstrates this. Characters are haunted by their childhoods, possessed by relationships, and in Molly's case, tortured by a (likely) misunderstanding. With this book, Redhill has created art on so many different levels, and in the end, has captured profound and abiding truths. A perfect novel; this is why I read.
"Love is not a home, it is not safe love other people, our faith in love is misplaced." A great and accurate quote, but as the protagonist says "but I have to put my love into someone." The story revolves around the life of a young college girl who falls in the love with a much older artist -- whose work she adores. Alas, midway through the novel her life is shattered in a moment and she spends the remainder of the book looking for answers about love and life. Set in Toronto, the Finger Lakes of New York, and Bloomington Indiana, and Ireland the books takes the reader from the 1980s to 2002. Redhill is a gifted writer and the read is enjoyable.
Do You like book Martin Sloane (2002)?
Michael RedhillAnchor Canada Martin Sloane by Michael Redhill is a sad allusive, mystery novel that addresses truths central to the human condition. The novel takes place over a decade and tells the story of Jolene Iolas, an English student who falls in love with Martin Sloane, a middle-aged artist who creates detailed box constructs. Suddenly after years of dating, Martin vanishes from Jolene’s life without a trace. The narrative follows Jolene on her psychological odyssey as she tries to make sense of how a person who loved her could leave so suddenly. I enjoyed Redhill’s writing for the majority of the novel. The middle of the novel was a bit slow-paced but overall it was an exquisite read. Redhill is a playwright and poet - this is shown as his writing is beautifully filled with poetic devices. Redhill was born in Maryland but raised in Toronto; he studied at Indiana university for a year then returned to Toronto which is a similar fate to his protagonist Jolene. Just like his character Martin’s artwork, Redhill is very intricate in his writing.Contradictory, separation and interconnection are common topics that simultaneously exist within the text. These topics are supported through the narration and punctuation. The novel follows two narrators who come together to tell one story. There is a first person narrator, Jolene, and a third person narrator; both speak in past tense. A large bulk of the novel is told by Jolene. She leads us through the aftermath of Martin's disappearance which takes place in the present. The second narrator, the third person, tells the tale of Martin’s childhood. Age is the distinguishing factors between the two narrators. Through dramatic irony, we see Martin’s childhood indirectly affecting Jolene’s present. Redhill places emphasis the division between childhood and adulthood through this narration but also through his use of punctuation. In Jolene and Martin’s memories, there are no quotations during the dialogue. Interestingly, Redhill visibly uses punctuation and narration to separate the past and present. This separation mirrors a central motif that enforces the theme reality of loss. “But this childhood narration doesn’t rhyme with anything. Not even with itself, for what could a dusty carpet have to do with gardening gloves, or a piano with gravestones? So many times in thirty-five years, I’ve known the feeling of that little girl being erased. The girl followed by the young woman who was given the hook for another, later woman. I feel a rough kinship with them, like they are conspirators in what has become of me. A lifetime of versions.” (Redhill. 11). This is one of many of Jolene’s comments on how she is unable to piece her childhood together. She at mercy at the inevitable loss of her old selves. I feel an intimate connection with this passage because I think it is something that every human feels and helplessly must come to terms with. tThis novel was very enigmatic in the storyline itself, but also in the overall message. While reading this I continuously felt as if there was an intense amount of hidden messages going over my head. In my own interpretation, I do not think this novel is about love. The character Martin is a tool used by Redhill to address how we are all subliminally interconnected. However we paradoxically all separate ourselves from conscious connection because of the how this intertwinement uniquely affects each person. This novel is extremely insightful to emotions of the human condition and I would definitely read it again to get a better grasp of its true message.
—Vania Pagniello
As reserved, quiet, and arty as its cover (its various skin) indicates - but by no means a lifeless novel. Wickedly interconnected by symbolism and remembrance and even the rough spots have something to tell the reader. As Noah Richler's blurb on the back indicates: the book may haunt your thoughts for a while, because it contains depths worth analyzing. On the other hand, despite very effective writing I found myself constantly confused about what time of day or night the narratives took place in. This won't bother anybody but me, and maybe it is too trivial a fact for the author to confront, but I kept wondering why Molly and Jolene were finding places open and friendly in the middle of the night. Again, this was entirely my mistake and I probably read the book wrongly, but if anyone else has this confusion I'd like to know, if only to know that my literacy isn't beginning to decline.Oh and the dialogue. As beautiful as it can be, it sometimes reads flatter than a court transcript but with illustrative/spiritual/soulful pretension, which is rare enough, but which lessens the great force this novel possesses.
—1.1
