The naked truth
Lisa Glatt has a developed quite the knack for tackling dark subject matter with an enthralling wit. Her second novel, The Nakeds, is a subversive take on the American Dream. It begins on a spring morning in 1970, when 6-year-old Hannah Teller sneaks out of her Southern California home to walk to school by herself.
Hannah doesn’t want to interrupt her mother and father, who are fighting in the kitchen. Their marriage has come undone: Asher, we discover, has been cheating on his wife Nina for Hannah’s entire life. He is tired of living a lie; he wants to abandon Judaism and divorce Nina to become a Christian and marry his long-time girlfriend, “He wanted to switch gods, goddamn it, and move to Orange County.”
The Tellers live on a nice, yet uninviting street with manicured lawns and flower beds that extend to the curb. But there are no sidewalks, so Hannah is forced to walk on the street where the worst possible thing happens, she becomes the victim of a hit-and-run: “. . . it was a collision, yes, but a convergence too, an unfortunate union: metal to skin, fender to plaid dress, and finally, fat black tire to bare calf, to lacy sock and perfectly shiny shoe.”
From the moment Martin Kettle drives away and leaves Hannah’s limp body splayed on the street, he doesn’t stop running. Running away from his family, from deepening relationships with women, from the truth that haunts his conscience and conscious state. Martin’s parents are hardworking restaurant owners with a “work hard, play hard” mindset. Drinking to the point of obliteration seems to be a family trait. For Martin, alcohol dulls the sting of the past, but it is also the agent of his misery. He was in the midst of a bender when he got behind the wheel and hit Hannah with his car.
The novel’s greatest strength is the ease in which the narrative changes perspective, drawing rifts between what is said and the secrets the characters conceal. Time passes with the same ease. Glatt isn’t heavy handed with her pop-culture and historical references: her ’70s feels credible.
So soon a precocious Hannah becomes a mature teenager, confined by a series of casts meant to straighten her leg. This one, seemingly irreparable, part of her body comes to define the whole of her being.
When Hannah’s mother remarries, her new husband opens her eyes to the freedom of nudism. Together, Nina and Azeem encourage Hannah to adopt their new-found lifestyle and join them at the family-friendly nudist camp they visit on weekends. But Hannah’s encased leg makes her incapable of ever being truly naked. Still, there is a great difference between being physically naked and being emotionally naked, namely, being in tune with one’s feelings and insecurities to the point of being capable of openly expressing them to those you love. And Glatt uses Nina and Azeem’s marriage to demonstrate the difficulty of such a feat.
Nina enjoys being a nudist but when Azeem suggests they open their marriage, that is where she draws the line.
Time doesn’t heal all wounds. The hit-and-run incident leaves an indelible mark on both victim and perpetrator. Martin’s guilt is palpable and debilitating, while Hannah feels anchored by the weight of her damaged leg. But by the end of the novel, the weight does come to be lifted, allowing both characters the will to move on with their lives. Safa Jinje is a writer and editor living in Toronto. You can follow her on Twitter @Safajinjed.