The Lacuna

 

 

Today I finished Barbara Kingsolver’s new novel, a Christmas gift from my mother.  I have read almost everything Ms. Kingsolver has written and she is one of my top five favorite authors.  The Lacuna has received lackluster reviews, but I felt a strong emotional connection to the work.  The story takes place primarily in Mexico and Asheville, NC, a place I long to visit and my beloved hometown.  A child of a Mexican mother and an American father, the story’s main character, Harrison Shepherd, spends his youth in Mexico.  He becomes a cook in the Rivera/Kahlo household and ends ups as Leo Trotsky’s secretary in the turbulent household until the Russian revolutionary’s assassination.  As those close to me know, and as evidenced by my Halloween costume, Frida Kahlo is my favorite artists.  I have had a visceral connection to her art since my mother read me her biography as a young girl (thanks Mom!).

Harrison Shepherd moves to the States and works for the Civil Service during WWII, transporting artworks from the National Gallery to the Biltmore House in Asheville for safekeeping.  Many of the landmarks Ms. Kingsolver mentions are still staples in 21st century Asheville: Pack Square,  Riverside Cemetary, Tunnel Road, the Grove Park Inn and Montford (Montford is one of my favorite neighborhoods and many of my highschool friends lived in the area’s beautifully restored homes).  Mr. Shepherd becomes a bestselling author of novels about the Aztec and Mayan civilizations, but his work becomes blacklisted during the Communist witch hunts.  His associations with Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, Trotsky and the Mexican workers revolution bring him under suspicion as a Communist sympathizer by the House Un-American Activities Committee.

Ron thinks I should write a letter to Barbara Kingsolver to tell her how strongly I connected to her book.  I do not know what to say without sounding corny.  Harrison Shepherd received a plethora of fan mail before his work became scrutinized, letters he found burdensome .  He hired a secretary to deal with the correspondence.  I can’t help but wonder whether this plot detail is a reference to Ms. Kingsolver’s own struggle with fan mail.  She lives on a farm not far from Greensboro in southern Virginia, her experiment in raising/growing her family’s food supply documented in the fabulous non-fiction work, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.  I have heard a rumor that she opened a restaurant featuring local ingredients.  Perhaps I can make a pilgrimage.

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