State of Wonder by Ann Patchett: A review

Ann Patchett had me at the first scene in her novel State of Wonder. The heroine of her story, Dr. Marina Singh, is a 42-year-old research scientist for a pharmaceutical company in Minnesota, who works, with her research partner Dr. Anders Eckman, in the rather unexciting field of cholesterol. But Eckman has been sent by the company to Brazil and as the story opens, Marina's boss and lover, Mr. Fox, appears in the doorway of her lab with an airmail letter informing the company that Dr. Eckman has died of a fever. Marina feels as though the world is collapsing, folding in on her.

Eckman has left a wife and three sons and Mr. Fox and Marina go to the home to break the tragic news. Mrs. Eckman is unable to accept that her husband is dead. She believes she would feel it if he were gone. She wants Marina to go to Brazil and find out what has happened. And this, as it happens, is exactly what Mr. Fox wants as well.

Eckman had been sent to Brazil to locate Dr. Annick Swenson, a researcher in the employ of the drug company who is supposed to be developing a fertility drug for the company. Swenson has been uncommunicative and Fox doesn't know where progress on the drug stands - or, indeed, if there has been any progress. Eckman was supposed to find out, but since he is out of the picture, Marina, who was a long-ago medical student of Dr. Swenson's, is persuaded to take his place.

Things are complicated by Marina's personal history as the daughter of an Indian man and a white woman. Her father deserted the family early on and returned to India where he created a second family. Marina and her mother occasionally visited him there and the anti-malarial drugs which Marina had to take gave her terrible nightmares. Now, in preparation for her trip to Brazil, she's put on the drug again and the nightmares resume. They are debilitating.

Another complicating factor is that no one really knows where in Brazil Dr. Swenson and the tribe she lives with are located. When Marina arrives in the town of Manaus, which is the only address they have for Swenson, she has no idea how to proceed further. But she meets characters who are familiar with Swenson, including a couple who are housesitting her apartment there. After a few weeks, one night when she is attending the opera with that couple, Dr. Swenson herself turns up and the story really begins to come to life.

The drug research in the jungle brings up unexpected moral dilemmas and Marina finds that all is not exactly as it might seem and that many mysteries lurk among the trees with the insects, snakes, monkeys, and brilliantly colored birds.

This is the first Patchett book I've read so I can't compare it to her others, but its structure - at least in the first part - is somewhat like a meandering stream that keeps twisting back upon itself. The reader is not really sure where to focus her attention, but with the arrival of Dr. Swenson on the scene, the stream straightens out a bit and one can discern the plot. Dr. Swenson is a charismatic character and this time, unlike medical school, she brings out the best in her former pupil, Marina Singh.

Patchett is an artful writer who most likely has read Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness and has taken its lessons to heart. She's written a worthy successor to that long ago jungle trek.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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