I sometimes wonder if I'm an unreliable narrator. That voice which tells a story, a story where you, the reader, is never sure of the truth. I have to stop reading certain kinds of books: Gone Girl, The Girl on a Train, and just this week Dennis Lehane's Since We Fell, a twisting force of a book, that had even me wondering what the true story was.
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The story of Rachel Fields, it opens with a killer line: "On a Tuesday in May, in her 35th year, Rachel shot her husband dead." I loved her from the start. Who hasn't wondered what it would be like to do that. Not that I have a husband. And for the record that other guy is still alive. I'm not that unreliable.
Since We Fell is just as much Rachel's husband's story, his name may, or may not be Brian. I can't give too much away. Just know that with these two you never know what's coming. It's like a rollercoaster punctuated by several WTFs. And, more importantly, such glorious writing.
Which is why I stopped reading The Girl on a Train, it wasn't that well written. I loved the film, with Emily Blunt. It was a fabulous story, just not a great book. But I also had to stop reading it because looking at Rachel (what is it with Rachels?) was like looking into a mirror. A sad alcoholic reeling from her marriage breakdown. Credit to me I've never blacked out, not that I can remember, there's a certain irony in that, I still have a job, and have better things to do than peer into neighbourhood houses. (Although, admittedly, I do know a fair bit about what's happening in my street.) But I connected, without sounding all bookclub wankerish, with poor sad Rachel. I know what it's like to see someone living a life that they should have been living with you. You think it's a better life, but the hard (sober) truth of it is, it's rarely better. Just a different life.
What was that line in Gone Girl? About the Cool Girl. "Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she's hosting the world's biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size two, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don't mind, I'm the Cool Girl."
The unreliable narrator always believes the Cool Girl gets picked over her. I will never be the Cool Girl, even though I like several of the abovementioned things. I'll leave it to you to decide which ones.
But back to being unreliable, and to never knowing that person you're in a relationship with. In an interview with Psychology Today Gone Girl author Gillian Flynn talked about marriage being the ultimate mystery: "You are never going to fully know the person in bed next to you, and … that can be thrilling or frightening. It depends on the person in bed next to you."
Which takes on a whole new meaning embarking on this life where so many people you meet have a past life you know nothing about. Did they cheat, or lie, or just grow bored, or grew boring and selfish themselves. Or a mixture of all those things.
And regardless, we've all been a little damaged and that makes us shield the truth even more. Who wants that potential beau to know we like poker, cheap beer and anal sex too early in the relationship.
Yet it's been weirdly ... I'm struggling for the right word, enlightening, un-encumbering, enjoyable ... to play the role of the unreliable narrator. To have a truth, that is my truth only, and not care, to some extent whether you believe me or not. Perhaps you even find this other character, the one only you know, far more enjoyable company. Perhaps I like her more too. A mistress of self reinvention as the story goes.
At 50, should we have worked out who we are or should we still be searching for our true selves? I thought I knew who I was and only now I'm starting to realise I was probably never her at all. Or I was her, and all of these other parts as well. Now I'm starting to sound like a Rachel.
All I know, as the unreliable narrator of my own life, is that I can rely on myself. Rely on myself to fail miserably sometimes, to exceed my own expectations, to wake up every day and be glad there's a new page in this story to turn over. And that someone wants to keep reading.
