MYSTERY RIDE was Boswell’s crowning achievement, a sharp, ironic, yet surprisingly sensitive novel about relationships--marriages, lovers, parent/offspring, friendships, as well as an incisive peek into matters of mental health.
In his latest novel, set near San Diego, 2008, Boswell explores the world of mentally/emotionally challenged individuals and their caretakers/counselors, rendered with an eagle eye and a tender heart. Peopled with well-defined, original characters, it revolves around the theme of keeping your grip while life tumbles down around you, and aiming to encounter a slip of hope and normality within the chaos of a broken world.
“Every sane person has to find every day some manner of accommodating the impossible, some way of covering up for the failures of the rational world. This might actually be a reasonable definition of sanity.”
The story is set at the fictional Onyx Springs Rehabilitation and Therapeutic Center, one of the largest treatment centers in the US, which houses dormitories for the high risk clientele, and an outpatient facility. Many of them come together at the sheltered workshop—a pantyhose packaging workshop that allow patients to earn money and learn assembly line skills, preparing them to function semi-independently. The characters engage, collaborate, and collide in a circling and revealing narrative that allows the reader to witness a share of their all-consuming lives.
Thirty-three-year-old James Candler is an affable, attractive therapist, a yearning counselor who has, even with his flaws, found his niche in counseling individuals.
“He thought it might be more important to be heard than to be understood. It was almost certainly the greatest benefit of therapy: that someone was willing to listen.”
Now, however, he is pursuing the directorship at Onyx Springs at the persuasion of the vacating director. Candler bought an expensive house and a fancy car, steeped himself in financial debt, compelling him to require the lucrative directorship position. His fiancé, who he barely knows, is about to arrive; his sister, who recently lost her husband, is also on her way. And James is drawn to a woman (he doesn’t recognize) from his past, and who he counseled once—which turned her life around.
In the meantime, James’s distant past is hurtling toward his present, pressing on him emotionally. During James’s youth in Arizona, his parents—pretentious artists--refused to get professional help for his brother, Pook, who was autistic and fragile. Pook was also an artist, but his talent was his curse, one that underpins James’s journey of self-awareness, which takes place through the arc of the book.
Billy Atlas, James’s best friend since childhood, has emotional problems that have interfered with social adjustment, but he comprehends Candler better than anyone. He is temporarily living with James, who has propped Billy up with a supervising job at the shelter, an assignment that Billy may not be emotionally competent to handle.
Then there are the clients, a variety of characters with their own exquisite torments. If the mind is an elaborate system of pulleys and levers and delicate balances, then what happens when a portion is altered or missing?
The most sympathetic character is Mick Coury, a client of Candler and the workshop, a handsome twenty-one-year-old suffering from schizophrenia. When he is on his meds, he functions steadily, but he is dissatisfied with the flattening effect. He has had several suicide attempts in the past, but appears to be coping.
Mick falls head over heels for Karly, a beautiful client, but with the intelligence of a small child. Maura Wood, who lives on-campus, has superior intelligence, like Mick, but suffers from extreme emotional problems. She is desperate for Mick, who is desperate for Karly. Everyone struggles for an anchor of something possible, grasping for certainty in this tumbledown world.
One must have clear boundaries to work effectively in this field. In Tumbledown, boundaries are getting blurred and often violated, and both clients and counselors are potentially headed for a fall. Moreover, as the story flows back and forth between characters and time periods, we begin to understand, for example, why James became a counselor, and his desire to reconcile the past with the present. Billy strives to capitalize on the present and secure a footing in the future, as a way of erasing the past. Mick’s greatest desire is to “return to the world as it had been before. The simplicity of it, the basic clarity of existence, would once more belong to him.”
In the dedication at the front of the book, Boswell states “This book is dedicated to all the clients who survived my tenure as a counselor and to the one who didn’t.” That line resonates in every character that appears in this narrative, in the precise way that he portrays the domain and the people who inhabit it. As a psychiatric nurse for thirty years, I recognize a credible setting from a badly contrived one. I am reticent to read a book with this context, due to occupational hazard, but I wasn’t disappointed here, as I recognized the authenticity and acumen of Boswell’s depictions.
What sometimes detracts from the story is the densely crowded narrative. Most of the characters are introduced early, and they pile on before the reader has an opportunity to absorb them. Eventually, they are given dimension and place in the story, but the torpid momentum periodically drained my senses. Moreover, Boswell goes off on tangents, and the narrative was weighted with infinitesimal details, and the tension I craved was diminished.
This was a brave and incisive book about the tyranny of the psyche, but at times it was overcome by a tyranny of verbosity. If you stick with it, though, you will be ultimately moved by a compassionate story of humanity, and the conflicting and complex nature of surviving in an impossible world.
“He had a vague belief that the ability to do the right thing and the ability to do the wrong thing were the same ability, and it existed like a great body of water on which floated your personality, and you could never tell just what might seep through, or in which direction a tide might take you.”