Milan
Kundera observed, "Most protagonists of great novels do not have
children. Scarcely 1 percent of the world's population is childless, but
at least 50 percent of the great literary characters are without
children." Upon reflection, perhaps the primary reason authors write
novels about women and men without children harks back to what the
French novelist Pascal Garnier expressed through one of his male
characters, who sees children as Nazis, ogres, vampires — sucking their
parents' blood and wrecking adult lives. "They catch us in the prime of
life and ruin our secret gardens with their red tricycles and bouncy
balls that flatten everything like wrecking balls." Goodness, seen in
this light, the rationale makes abundant sense: novelists can focus on
the full bloom of their characters' inner lives, their adventures and
challenges, their reflections and choices, since their fictional
creations — their adult men and women—need not devote even a portion of
their energy to children.
Nick Petroulias takes the opposite
tack. The author's narrator/protagonist, Phillip, is a family man,
living with his wife, Beatrice, and his two young daughters, Fiona &
Elena. Ah, parenthood – one of the most formidable challenges in modern
society, a society composed of nuclear families where parents, caring
for their children, have taken on an all-consuming responsibility. "I no
longer want the clutter of daily life that I've lived with for the past
dozen years. I want the possibilities that solitude brings." Phillip's
desire is not an uncommon lament of parents who come to fully appreciate
the joys of solitude only after a life full to the brim with children.
"How can so much maniacal energy flow from a creature that looks
hand-drawn from a story by A.A. Milne?" So Phillip muses while dealing
with Elena's floppy, lopsided sock. Anyone, like myself, who has had the
experience of raising children will empathize with Phillip.
Man Alone
is a compelling portrait of fatherhood where Phillip has a rare
opportunity to actually spend an entire weekend alone since Beatrice
will be taking the girls on a trip with her friend Rosemary and her two
daughters. “I've wanted this weekend for a long time; to generate my own
memories again.”
Now that he's alone, how will Phillip spend his
time? What will he think about? "I have a theory about all this – that
the pace of this family life leads me to forget who I am. The thoughts
and events that constitute the entire impression of myself simply
vanish." Phillip's reflections shed light on the sacrifices adults make
on behalf of their children. Not only is one's identity set aside, but
also a person's attention to their own needs is deferred as the needs of
children consistently take precedence. In a word, one no longer thinks
in terms of oneself.
Phillip thinks deeply about the nature of
time, memory, and what constitutes his own personal identity, delving
into his pre-father past, which extends as far back as childhood. To
provide a more specific glimpse, here are a few snapshots:
Playing
Games With Time - “Those few minutes of every day when something goes
wrong – outside of my ability to correct it – allow me to play a sleight
of hand with time, a game that has taken many years to master.” Phillip
recognizes life will occasionally give him a break, will set him free.
One such instance: after he drops the kids at school (always the perfect
father) and before he arrives at work (always the perfect breadwinner),
he might have to wait longer for the train (track problem, accident,
weather, just missing his usual train). In those precious minutes, he
has transcended roles and tasks and plans. For Phillip, time expands in the imagination. And, now, he has three whole days!
Reclaiming
Personhood – Unlike the practice of meditation, where we're encouraged
to let go of thoughts, Phillip takes a different approach. “I want to
follow the path of one thought, freely associate images, themes, until
the thought has its own form. I can be a memory.” Phillip's memory lands
on a time when he was a schoolboy of thirteen and had a friend by the
name of Johnson. And he's off. Houses, streets, trees, games, past
feelings and imaginings – it all comes back. “There's this giant ledger
of memories I've been allocate to choose from. Once we've entered such
thoughts is forgetting impossible?”
Triggers – How do we measure
our past? What events qualify as defining moments? Perhaps not
surprisingly, Phillip proclaims, “I measure the passage of time through
the girls.” There's a recollection of his conversation with Fiona while
traveling to a specific cove when she asked him how old he would be when
she is nine. His answer: forty. Fiona then asks how old he will be when
she reaches certain ages in the more distant future, prompting Phillip
to reflect on the effects of his past cigarette smoking on his lifespan.
This, in turn, leads Phillip to contemplate his own death and his sense
of self. “The movement of the line towards death is my identity.”
What I've noted above serves as a brief taste of what readers will encounter in Man Alone,
a short novel (123 pages) about what truly matters in our lives when we
find ourselves as parents (especially fathers) of small children. From
the publisher's blurb: “The non-toxic version of masculinity;
philosophical and engaging.” I can't think of a more apt description.
Highly recommended. 
Nick Petroulias has lived his entire life in Melbourne, Australia. Man Alone is his first novel
Comments
Post a Comment