How grief alters the shape of your heart
American-born Auckland writer Bryan Walpert has published literary criticism, a novella, and collections of poetry and stories, but Entanglement — longlisted for the Ockham NZ Book Awards — is his first novel, a beautiful, stylistically adventurous and deeply philosophical work.
Three intertwined narratives form the structure. A memory-impaired time traveller attempts to correct a tragic mistake he made in 1976 when, as a frightened child, he abandoned his brother Daniel on a frozen lake in Baltimore. A writer-in-residence at the Centre for Time in Sydney in 2011 becomes romantically involved with a philosopher from New Zealand. In 2019, an author at a lake retreat in New Zealand uses workshop prompts to explore the disintegration of his marriage and the tragedies which have marked his life.
The sections set in the Centre for Time present us with aspiring novelist Paul, preoccupied with the time travel novel he’s writing. His research gives the lay reader a chance to grasp the basics of quantum theory and the viability of going back and forth in time. It’s skilfully woven into the plot, especially in the connection between Paul and his New Zealand love interest, Anise.
Their initial spark and the subsequent trajectory of all the highs and lows is nuanced and intricately captured. (One passage delivers foreplay in the form of a discussion between relativity versus presentism. I kid you not, it’s a very sexy scene.)
Walpert has a screenwriter’s eye for foreshadowing and payoff, with the three narrative strands braiding together to form a Mobius strip, seams eventually dissolving. Every word of the novel’s lean 267 pages works hard for its rent, and even its title is evidence of this micro-level thoughtfulness, encompassing as it does the tragic connection between twin brothers, the superposition of subatomic particles, and the intertwining of colliding hearts.
Playfulness appears in unexpected places. A discussion on Schrodinger is followed with: “A thin line of light between the door and the frame. In one world, she will be sitting at a table, facing a mirror, putting on earrings. In another, she is buttoning a sweater.
In a third, she will be undressed, in the bed, her hair loose over her shoulders. My hand was on the knob. It seemed like anything was possible.”
The impact of the narrator’s decision to abandon his brother in Baltimore in 1976 haunts the rest of his life (and the entire book). When he is given writing prompts at the Lyndon Writers Retreat, the precise and meditative sentences draw slowly towards that fateful day. The memory-impaired time traveller may not even remember his full name, but understands he has a job to do, that if carried out correctly, may atone for all of his regrets.
At its essence, Entanglement is an exploration of how grief alters the shape of your heart. There’s a simple, devastating scene that involves painting a room. Italian physicist Carlo Rovelli is evoked in one passage as Anise explains the belief that there is no difference between matter and energy comforted her after the death of her father. It’s all movement, she says, and each one of us is an event. “I was lucky enough,” she says, “to experience the unfolding of part of the event that was my father.” This deep dive allows the reader to forge their own path as to how they interpret the ambiguous yet perfectly rendered ending.
Angelique Kasmara is a writer, editor, translator and reviewer from Auckland. Her first novel, Isobar Precinct, was the winner of the 2017 Sir James Wallace Prize for Creative Writing, and finalist for the 2019 Michael Gifkins Prize. A longer version of this review will appear on anzliterature.com