There's a bitter-sweet vein of nostalgia running throughout Una Mannion's novel “A Crooked Tree”. It's told from from the point of view of Libby who is looking back at a period of her teenage years at the beginning of the 1980s in a rural Pennsylvanian community. She recounts a dramatic incident where her younger sister Ellen is abruptly left on the side of the road when their single mother is driving the family home and gets fed up with Ellen's backtalk. A series of dramatic and frightening events follow on from this. But the story is also suffused with a feeling of yearning for the idle days of her early life and the certainty of being part of a family unit though she realises they were troubled and imperfect times. I felt a kinship with Libby because (though I grew up much later than her) I had a similarly agrestic American childhood filled with long summer afternoons spent in the forest, roasting marshmallows over a fire or sneaking into places I wasn't supposed to with friends. This novel also gives the feeling that we're all lucky to have survived our childhood because it's only in retrospect that we truly understand how precarious life was and how vulnerable we often were in those early years.
The sense of yearning in this story is emphasized by the undercurrent of mourning Libby feels since her proudly-Irish father died. She frequently recalls memories of their time together in a way that sours any pleasure she has in the present. His notable loss combined with their mother's frequent absence since she has a long-term secret lover means that Libby and her siblings must rely more on each other for guidance and support. There's a grudging sense of forgiveness expressed when Libby recalls her mother and thinks “I knew she loved us in the way that she could.” These circumstances mean that Libby's persistent emotionally-closed nature makes sense and, though it's frustrating to read about the many instances where she should have been honest about her feelings and been loyal to her friend Sage, I understand her compulsive need for privacy and secrecy.
Though it was realistic and relatable, the trouble with this story was that it too often meandered in a way which sometimes felt tedious. The dramatic tension from Ellen being left on the roadside and what happens to her directly after quickly sputters out as there's an extended amount of speculation about whether or not there will be dangerous and larger consequences. This allows time for Libby's world to be atmospherically evoked but, like the day-to-day life of many teenagers, it's not very interesting. I could definitely relate to this but it reminded me of how boring and insubstantial those days were. When the ultimate results of the initial incident finally play out it feels more melodramatic and forced than meaningful. This is a shame because I mostly enjoyed Mannion's writing and how she evoked the texture and feeling of this troubled working class family's life. I'll definitely be interested to read any of the author's future publications but as a debut novel this book didn't pack quite the punch I wanted.
