The seeds of love
In an uneven but ultimately successful novel, Allan Massie finds a rewarding family saga partially obscured by whimsy
Tis an exuberant, provocative mess; sometimes witty, sometimes moving, sometimes tiresome. It’s a family saga, even one with an Aga in the background, and an exercise in the sort of whimsy that is dignified by the term “magic realism”. Not surprisingly the family sections work better and ring true, while the whimsy – turning on the inheritance of seed pods which if consumed may bring either death or enlightenment – is pretty silly. The writing is energetic and often lively, but Thomas has either no idea of economy, or despises it. Structurally the novel is a wreck, and this matters because without a firm structure, a novel will wander without line or direction. In some ways Thomas is like Iris Murdoch on speed. She has the same zest for ideas and for involved family situations, but Murdoch kept a firm hold on her plot. She once said that before she started writing a novel, she could already tell you what would happen in Chapter 23. Thomas gives the impression of not knowing what will happen on the next page. This admittedly gives her work an agreeable spontaneity.
The family are called Gardener. They are mostly botanists, and there is a family secret: what happened to three of them who disappeared on a mysterious “lost” island in the Pacific or perhaps the South Seas. There is a family tree at the beginning of the book and another at the end; the second one is the more accurate. Great-aunt Oleander has just died. She was a sort of guru running a centre which offered, or professed to offer, enlightenment to clients, mostly celebrities. She leaves the centre to Fleur, an orphan, and the remarkable seed pods and a house on Jura to the other members of the family. Oleander was highly revered, as clever phonies often are. Another of her legacies to Fleur is a mysterious book which is sometimes blank and sometimes not. You may believe this if it pleases you.
The extended family is predictably dysfunctional. Overweight Bryony, an estate agent, drinks too much,