Seeking truths behind daily life
LOVE ORANGE by Natasha Randall (Riverrun, $35)
Deception, addiction, surveillance and obsession may sound like the foundations for a great piece of fiction but how far are they really from the everyday reality of 21st century families? According to Natasha Randall’s stunning debut novel, not as far as one would think.
Told through the eyes of Jenni and Hank Tinkley and their suburban pastor, Father Brian, Love Orange presents an unforgiving examination of contemporary life and the lengths we go to survive its relentless anxieties. Because, while the Tinkleys appear to be the perfect “All-american family”, with a digital smart home, in the nice part of town and two respectful sons attending the local school, their performative civility masks far grittier truths.
How can you be a father or a husband if you don’t know how to be a man? That’s the question haunting Hank, although he would be the last to admit it. Lacking professional success in a society that tells men they are what they do, Hank becomes obsessed with other conventional domains of masculinity; flaunting his supposed Viking lineage, optimising the family home and endeavouring to toughen up his sons through camping and sport. However, identity isn’t quite so formulaic anymore, leaving Hank caught between the traditional model of masculinity and the new culture that denounces men to the point of shame.
Meanwhile, Jenni suffocates in the “marshmallow numbness” of motherhood; a painful mix of adoration and resentment towards sons she is now totally and irrevocably defined by. Not to mention the nagging competition with her husband’s “smart house” technology, ever-attentive in ways
Jenni can never compete. Most days it seems the only thing to look forward to is the correspondence she has with a prisoner via a church outreach programme. That, or the oddly pleasurable taste of his orange-coloured letters.
Dysfunction appears genetic as it travels through to the younger Tinkleys, with 12-year-old Luke expressing obsessive autistic proclivities while his older brother Jesse’s gaming habit leads him to nefarious corners of the dark web at just 14.
Technology and camping, internet gaming or opioids; while the family appear divided by various affairs, they are in fact bound by a greater condition. Love Orange presents a disturbing examination of how versatile and insidious addiction can be, hiding among the shiny promises of modernity.
For those drawn to action-packed stories, where clear heroes and villains travel predictable arcs towards neat conclusions, Love Orange may leave you wanting.
Full of characters not easily typified, moving through lives without any obvious “theme” or purpose, Randall’s novel is anticlimactic yet admirable in its refusal of cheap literary thrills and easy storylines. Instead, choosing to tell a story that is more gritty, mundane, uncomfortable yet brutally real.
In the world of instant gratification and unattainable ideals, Randall so vividly captures, perhaps these stories in their disturbingly familiar complexities, are the ones we most need to hear.