Review: NORA WEBSTER, by Colm Tóibín (Scribner, 2014). 237 pp.
(This book review originally ran in the Boston Globe, October 10, 2014)
Colm Tóibín’s new novel, “Nora Webster,” is simply a quiet, microscopically-observed character study of a recently widowed woman in the small Irish town of Wexford in the late 1960s, but as Tóibín proved in previous novels “Brooklyn” and “The Testament of Mary,” the emotional lives of ordinary women can contain as much drama as any tale of war.
We meet Nora just after she has lost her husband, Maurice, a respected local teacher, to a painful illness. She is coping not only with her own grief, but that of her four children. Nora is also endeavoring to hold on to her only recently achieved financial stability; Nora’s mother had been a domestic servant, and Nora is grateful for “the freedom that marriage to Maurice had given her, the freedom, once the children were in school, or a young child was sleeping, to walk into this room at any time of the day and take down a book and read . . . [t]he day belonged to her.” With Maurice gone, Nora knows she must return to work in the office job she held before her marriage. “Now her day was to be taken from her,” she thinks. “Her years of freedom had come to an end; it was as simple as that.”
Nora lives in a world of female surveillance — daughters, sisters, aunts, neighbors, nuns — all watching her actions, her outbursts, any changes in routine in Nora’s newly-widowed life. The book opens on just such a scene: a neighbor knocking on Nora’s door, paying her respects, checking in. “You must be fed up of them,” another neighbor — a man — says: “Just don’t answer the door,” he advises. “That’s what I’d do.” But this is exactly what Nora cannot do, despite that all she craves is solitude, privacy. As a woman, Nora cannot shut the door on the women who watch her without risking her reputation. In this small town, a woman choosing to be alone and independent is the ultimate transgression. “Your mother was the same,” a busy-body nun tells Nora. “It was the pride, or the not liking people knowing her business, that made her difficult. And that did her no good.”
Although the plot of “Nora Webster’’ concerns a widow’s quiet but determined path to independence and personal fulfillment, the story is really that of Nora’s dramatic emotional life roiling beneath her calm surface. Readers who loved (or loved to hate) Elizabeth Strout’s peevish heroine Olive Kitteridge will appreciate the vinegar-tinged humor and pathos of Nora Webster, too.
We follow Nora as she finds a new way to be in this “world filled with absences.” One day she finds herself staring at a record player, transfixed. As the clerk plays a Dvorak recording for her, “[w]hat she felt now more than anything was a sadness that she had lived her life until now without having heard this.” Yet eventually Nora finds the strength to pursue her love of music even to the point of taking singing lessons, literally finding her voice for the first time as a grown woman.
Nora is aware, in a way others around her seem not to be, of the numberless expectations of women in her society. As the men in the house make themselves comfortable, she notices that her mother and sister “hardly ever sat down . . . [they were] always bustling about . . . their mother disapproved of women sitting down when there was still work to do.” Nora has a word for this: “foostering.”
In one of her many silent forms of rebellion, “[a]ll her married life Nora had made sure that she stayed sitting down for as long as possible each evening once the washing-up after tea had been completed.”
Set against the background of the early days of the Troubles, Nora finds herself and her country awakening to a new and uncertain future. A deeply moving portrait of the flowering of a self-liberated woman, “Nora Webster’’ tells the story of all the invisible battles the heart faces every day.