A Book A Week

There's power in the idea of a place. Think about it for a second. Things inevitably change, people come and go, but a place can remain. Within a single place, be it a home, a city, a state, different people will have different experiences. Even the same person can experience varying events in that one place. In her debut novel, Idaho, author Emily Ruskovich examines the possibility within her own imagined version of the state. Through a non-linear narrative surrounding an intimate group of characters, Ruskovich invites her readers to experience the love, sorrow, hope, and despair that all traverses a single place. 

Wade and Jenny's move to Idaho was one built on the promise of deepening their life together, and for the most part, that's exactly what the couple did. They began to raise their two daughters May and June amongst the mountainous landscape. Life was never easy, but together they were getting through it. Then one day, the joy of their life together was abandoned for pure tragedy. The family was forever changed by this instance, never to be fully together again. From this moment, the threads of Ruckovich's tale spread, delving into the lives of the characters before and after. 

Ann's move to Idaho from her native Europe brings hope of opportunity. As a music teacher, she revels in connecting her students with her passion for the arts. It is at the school that she first meets Wade, the parent to a student she's having to discipline. There is sorrow behind Wade's eyes. After their first meeting, Ann meets with Wade again. He soon reveals that he's been diagnosed with dementia, a condition passed on to him by his father. From there, the pair begin to form a relationship. First, it is simply the relationship between a piano teacher and her unconventional student, a man fighting to hold on to whatever scraps of memory remain. Soon it blossoms into something much deeper, a relationship that moves them to love in ways they never imagined but also one in which they encounter challenges neither of them could have foreseen. 

This is a slow, contemplative read. Rusckovich seems more concerned with the emotional introspections of her characters than building any kind of propulsive plot. While jumbling the timeline of the narrative gives way for a variety of emotional moments, it does little to maintain any sort of narrative cohesion. Several times I found myself uncertain of where I was in the book, confused about exactly which part in the character's life I was reading. I kept waiting for the separate threads of the book to come together into some sort of revelatory whole. Alas, no such conclusion occurred. My qualms with the non-linear structure of the novel aside, there is no denying the deliberate approach that Ruskovich takes with her characters. Idaho reads as a kind of tone poem. At its heart, it is a quiet exploration of the characters and emotions that they experience through this singular place. Ruskovich's ability to craft layered characters through her subtly nuanced writing is the real strength of this novel. To that end, Idaho is a fascinating, if not a bit frustrating, read. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 16)