A review by liralen
Cracks by Sheila Kohler
2.0
Note: Spoilers are tagged, but they are significant.
There's something of an [b:And Then There Were None|16299|And Then There Were None|Agatha Christie|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1391120695s/16299.jpg|3038872] flair to Cracks: A group of women are called together in middle age; it is, to an extent, a reckoning with their past. (If the comparison seems odd, it's because I'm thinking less of And Then There Were None and more of [b:The Body in the Ivy|129676|The Body in the Ivy (Faith Fairchild, #16)|Katherine Hall Page|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1387668571s/129676.jpg|124896], which is an homage to Christie and rather closer in plot to Cracks.)
The bulk of the story, though, is in the past. These girls were in school in South Africa in the 60s or thereabouts (though certain major aspects of SA at the time—e.g., apartheid—are all but invisible). They were the 'special' ones, the ones chosen to be on the swim team. One of them disappeared.
The story is told in first-person plural—'we'—with no particular character breaking through to leave an impression. Indeed, by the end of the book I could identify only one or two attributes and/or personality traits of each girl: There's the Catholic one whose father is abusive; the twins who are orphans; etc. And there's Sheila. Sheila Kohler. Whose defining characteristic is that she's an aspiring writer (and, in adulthood, published writer):
Sheila frowns. Perhaps she is thinking of her work. She wanted to be a writer like Alan Paton, and write a sentence like his about all the roads leading to Johannesburg, but she has only written thrillers, all of them about murdered girls. (98)
Sheila, who once signed her letters "From an undiscovered genius," has perhaps just had an idea for another book she always wanted to write, for she says, to no one in particular, "I have my work. I do have my work, you know." (102)
Sheila was putting it all down in her head. (161)
My understanding is that Kohler put a version of herself in here to make the book seem more realistic, but, oh gosh. That is: At least she didn't write herself in as a particularly 'good' character; the fictional Sheila Kohler is as culpable as the rest of them. But authors writing characters named after themselves into their books is a conceit that I've cringed at ever since I read [b:A Gift of Magic|244585|A Gift of Magic|Lois Duncan|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1173077780s/244585.jpg|46740], and I cringed here. (Exception: Authorial self-insertion worked in [b:The Abortion|160588|The Abortion|Richard Brautigan|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1215361162s/160588.jpg|691235], in large part because Brautigan made his point and then got out.) What does a reader do with an author-named character who, alongside her peers,?
There's a lot going on here. Being on the swim team is supposed to be a privilege, something special in this school, although it's hard to understand how that plays out because we never see any characters who aren't on the swim team and Miss G only cares about Fiamma (the girl who disappears) anyway. 'Cares about' is misleading—Miss G, a grown woman, is. The rest of the girls are petty, ignorant creatures who hate Fiamma in no small part because she's the one receiving all Miss G's attention.
Fiamma disappears, and it's treated as a mystery, but it's a mystery only to the reader. The girls, they all know. It seems the teachers know as well. Yet even as the tension of the school story comes to a head, nothing happens in the characters-in-middle-age sections. (Well. I suppose they're being quasi-blackmailed. But nothing comes of it.)
Weirdly, there are a lot more comparisons to my own boarding-school experience than is the case in most of the boarding-school books I've read. (Leaving aside the part, mind.) If that were the only weird thing about the book, I might be on board with it.
There's something of an [b:And Then There Were None|16299|And Then There Were None|Agatha Christie|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1391120695s/16299.jpg|3038872] flair to Cracks: A group of women are called together in middle age; it is, to an extent, a reckoning with their past. (If the comparison seems odd, it's because I'm thinking less of And Then There Were None and more of [b:The Body in the Ivy|129676|The Body in the Ivy (Faith Fairchild, #16)|Katherine Hall Page|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1387668571s/129676.jpg|124896], which is an homage to Christie and rather closer in plot to Cracks.)
The bulk of the story, though, is in the past. These girls were in school in South Africa in the 60s or thereabouts (though certain major aspects of SA at the time—e.g., apartheid—are all but invisible). They were the 'special' ones, the ones chosen to be on the swim team. One of them disappeared.
The story is told in first-person plural—'we'—with no particular character breaking through to leave an impression. Indeed, by the end of the book I could identify only one or two attributes and/or personality traits of each girl: There's the Catholic one whose father is abusive; the twins who are orphans; etc. And there's Sheila. Sheila Kohler. Whose defining characteristic is that she's an aspiring writer (and, in adulthood, published writer):
Sheila frowns. Perhaps she is thinking of her work. She wanted to be a writer like Alan Paton, and write a sentence like his about all the roads leading to Johannesburg, but she has only written thrillers, all of them about murdered girls. (98)
Sheila, who once signed her letters "From an undiscovered genius," has perhaps just had an idea for another book she always wanted to write, for she says, to no one in particular, "I have my work. I do have my work, you know." (102)
Sheila was putting it all down in her head. (161)
My understanding is that Kohler put a version of herself in here to make the book seem more realistic, but, oh gosh. That is: At least she didn't write herself in as a particularly 'good' character; the fictional Sheila Kohler is as culpable as the rest of them. But authors writing characters named after themselves into their books is a conceit that I've cringed at ever since I read [b:A Gift of Magic|244585|A Gift of Magic|Lois Duncan|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1173077780s/244585.jpg|46740], and I cringed here. (Exception: Authorial self-insertion worked in [b:The Abortion|160588|The Abortion|Richard Brautigan|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1215361162s/160588.jpg|691235], in large part because Brautigan made his point and then got out.) What does a reader do with an author-named character who, alongside her peers,
Spoiler
rapes and murders a classmateThere's a lot going on here. Being on the swim team is supposed to be a privilege, something special in this school, although it's hard to understand how that plays out because we never see any characters who aren't on the swim team and Miss G only cares about Fiamma (the girl who disappears) anyway. 'Cares about' is misleading—Miss G, a grown woman, is
Spoiler
sexually obsessed with Fiamma and goes further and further in her harassment and abuse as the book goes onFiamma disappears, and it's treated as a mystery, but it's a mystery only to the reader. The girls, they all know. It seems the teachers know as well. Yet even as the tension of the school story comes to a head, nothing happens in the characters-in-middle-age sections. (Well. I suppose they're being quasi-blackmailed. But nothing comes of it.)
Weirdly, there are a lot more comparisons to my own boarding-school experience than is the case in most of the boarding-school books I've read. (Leaving aside the