What do You think about In A Glass House (1998)?
I really looked forward to reading this second novel in Nino Ricci’s Vittorio Innocente trilogy, following the award-winning Lives of the Saints. And I believe it could have been another award-winner, if not for the number of flaws in the narrative. The first book covered Vittorio’s life until the age of seven. In this book which spans two decades, we follow Vittorio from the farm on Lake Erie in SW Ontario, through his years in university, to his journey to Nigeria to teach, back to the farm, and at the end, as he prepares to leave for Toronto. The title of the book refers to the glass greenhouses where Mario, Vittorio’s father, raises vegetables, eventually prospering, despite a harsh climate. In contrast, he never tries to accept Vittorio’s half-sister, Rita, the result of his wife’s death delivering the child that was conceived in an affair back in Italy. Even Vittorio is stranger to him than his beloved tomatoes. Rita eventually concocts a ruse to get taken in by another family, and although Vittorio attempts to connect with her, they remain awkward with one another, unable to truly relate to each other. Vittorio has the same problem with his peers: he doesn’t understand, even when a friend basically tells him that a relationship is a two-way street. Even from his own self, Vittorio is divided: there is “a hollowness at the centre of me”. So, however thin, there is a plot to this story: a family that can’t seem to bond, that in fact, grows further and further apart; and it’s questionable whether or not a sub-plot exists, whether or not this can be called a coming-of-age story when Vittorio doesn’t really come to terms with things. Near the end, prior to leaving Africa, he says: I seemed to be leaving as I’d come, from dark to dark, stealing away like some scuttling sea thing beneath the wrinkling surface of the day.”I marked several eloquent passages such as the above, but ultimately, Ricci’s exquisite prose was extinguished by his overuse of certain words. A beautifully written passage often needed air (delete key). Often the repetition of a word, like the steady dripping of water from a tap, distracts the reader, who might otherwise be caught up in Ricci’s potentially brilliant prose. I know how difficult it is; how we all have our favourite words, and are often blind to them. In Ricci’s case it’s ‘somehow, merely, finally, simply, the sense that/of’, and even ‘I dunno’. I tried, unsuccessfully, to find a narrative purpose for the over-use. There were four words that stood out, becoming more irritating with each repetition, taking me “out” of the story -- furtive(ly): 19; gloom(y): 30; suddenly (not counting ‘sudden’): 88; but the worst offender by far was ‘seemed/ing’ (not counting ‘seem’!), which Ricci used, in 374 pages – hard to believe! – over 600 times. It’s possible Ricci was attempting to achieve a particular tone, or rhythm, or perhaps to make some point about his narrator, but it didn’t work for me. I rewrote lines or passages without ‘seemed’ for example, enough times to confirm that neither meaning nor tone would be lost. Why, you might ask, did I continue reading? My only response is: because I have the final book of the trilogy, and I am choosing to be optimistic! Where She Has Gone was a Giller Prize Finalist, after all. I hope this time to find the writing a little less cluttered, and to appreciate Ricci’s real talent; and I’m hoping that there will also be resolution, finally, for Vittorio.
—Bonnie
