This measured and substantial novel is the capstone of Sue Miller's literary career and clearly removes her from the realm of just "women's fiction" and into a more Jamesian sphere of natural realism. Miller provides penetrating and complex characterizations--it doesn't get any better than this--through robust interior monologues, counterpoint between characters and scenes, overlay, keen perceptions and multiple perspectives, and an artful metaphor between stage/theater and real life. Her quartet of characters are examined and explored with a gifted pace and subtle precision that is both calibrated and unmannered simultaneously. There is very little overt drama, and no melodrama; the scrupulous and painstaking finesse to character and story is nearly flawless.
The parallel between a play staged in Boston at the beginning of the novel and the novel itself is the engine and drive of this story. Two protagonists of the quartet (Leslie and Sam) are watching the play, "The Lake Shore Limited"-- three, if you count the playwright, Billy, (Wilhelmina), and the fourth, Rafe, is the main actor playing Gabriel. There is also an unconscious ghost or shadow present in the performance, that of Leslie's much younger brother, Gus, who was Billy's lover until he died in the 9/11 tragedy six years ago.
Leslie, who is watching the play with her husband, Pierce, and her old friend, Sam, is struck by the story, but especially to Rafe's character, Gabriel. In the play, a bombing incident on the Lake Shore Limited train is emotionally jarring and reflective of the American tragedy that took Gus's life. Gabriel's response onstage to his wife's possible death is unsettling to Leslie, who begins to revisit Gus's death and her perception of Billy and Gus's relationship. Likewise, Billy is startled and moved by Rafe's performance in the final scene. And the effect on Rafe of playing Gabriel is stark indeed. Identification with the stage performance changes the lives of all the characters and brings a robust dimension to the novel.
Miller has this brilliantly controlled. The play that readers "read," i.e. see staged, takes up only a handful of pages, and therefore cannot be the entire play. What Miller does is recreate the dramatic turns and action in this section. As the story progresses, more of the play is unfolded through reflection. Although the theatrical "showing" is moderately stilted, (in the contrived style of the stage) this proves later to be a seamless counterpoint to the story at hand. In other words, the questionable authenticity of its truncated beginning will cease to be a problem as time goes on. The text of the play is meticulously linked to its intended audience and is artfully reticulated in the subtext of the novel.
Leslie, Sam, Billy, and Rafe are irrevocably connected in a combination of direct and circuitous ways that intensify with conversation, memories, and with each character's struggle against the past. The author captures the rueful feelings associated with conflicting and impure affections; she conveys the internal contradictions through extended interior monologues that are reminiscent of Henry James. Moreover, Miller's ability to sustain potent, lengthy dialogue between the characters without a shred of artificiality is remarkable, and evokes the reality twist to the theatrical performance.
Through flashbacks and linear chronology, the attachments and junctions, as well as the missed connections between the quartet build to a ripe, organic network of emotions and circumstances. Although there are references and scenes of September 11th, this is not a "9/11" story per se. It has a distinctly American texture, but the thrust is the equation of life with theater. The environment is often like a stage set, and the characters move cautiously around, holding back, playing roles, and letting go at concentrated intervals. Yet, the action and story feel completely natural.
Throughout the novel, the theatrical play is the axis--hence, the title. Miller returns to the play repeatedly, buttressing the novel and characters, and fortifying the themes with an elegant body of construction. Miller's familiar themes of love, loss, grief, and redemption are present, but sans histrionics and spectacles. The subtle, sublime drama is a quietly pulverizing experience for the reader. The intensity of the story fueled with comprehensive characterizations is so richly satisfying that it will take considerable effort to re-emerge from the novel, from the play, from the indelible characters that make up the story.
Ignore the covers; the hardcover picture is misleading and the paperback edition is frivolous, both adding up to an almost generic choice of covers not worthy of such a distinguished work of literature.