Wildflowers by Peggy Frew review - Family love, stretched thin by addiction, still persists

The anatomy of a family is always interesting. If you think someone has a perfect happy family, you just don't know them well enough. You only need to dig a little beneath the surface to uncover problems. That's because we all have flaws and foibles and these reflect in our relationships.

But what is it like to have a family member who suffers from addiction? Is there a particular recipe of parenting and personality-type that leads to this outcome? And what is the fallout on the rest of the family? How do you live with someone in the grip of addiction? How do you support them and each other? In her new novel Wildflowers, Peggy Frew delves into these issues with searing insight and sensitivity.

Nina is the middle sister of three in a family that seemed perfectly normal when she was little. Her older sister Meg has always been the organiser, Nina the flaky one, and their younger sister, Amber, the star, destined for greatness in the acting world. But things didn't work out that way. In Amber's first professional acting role when she was a teenager, something happened to her, and afterwards she spiralled into a world of addiction.

After years of hard drugs, Amber has moved on from heroin and is now addicted to prescription drugs and alcohol. She's a difficult and often absent family member. Her parents make excuses for her. She hurts people. Yet, despite the family's deep frustrations and complex emotions relating to Amber, they still love her and constantly worry about her.

Meg wants to save Amber, and she recruits Nina to help stage a secret "intervention" by luring Amber on a "holiday" to a remote house in the tropics where they can supervise her withdrawal from drugs and alcohol. The plan is fraught with problems, not least the fact that neither Meg nor Nina knows anything about withdrawal from drug addiction. They are a long way from hospital support and lack access to the medications that an addict requires during withdrawal. Inevitably, a deed that begins as an act of love turns into something frightening.

The veracity of Frew's portrayal of addiction and its impact on family is painful reading. No one is spared. The parents delude themselves in order to survive but also in an attempt to shield their other daughters. They do this by pretending certain things aren't happening, downplaying events as if nothing is out of the ordinary. But the impacts of living with a drug addict are far-reaching and can't be ignored.

Frew clearly understands the gap between parental hopes and expectations for their children versus reality. One wonders whether excessive pressure to achieve and be flawless could be an underlying factor leading to disappointment and self-dissatisfaction in some young people, resulting in depression and addiction. But what are the other causes of addiction? Is it due to predisposing mental health conditions? Poor parenting? Wildness and lack of control?

The issue of addiction is clearly complex, and Frew understands that it can happen to anyone, any respectable family. She dives into the morass, and leaves the answers to the reader, never judging or blaming anyone.

Frew is a master writer - someone who is able to craft words with precision and carry you on a story of discovery. She is especially skilful at unpacking the layers of family dynamics, capturing that peculiar tension that exists between parents and siblings, especially when things go wrong.

READ MORE: Peggy Frew's Wildflowers deals with the fragile love of sisterhood

Despite the lows, there are many high points in this novel. Scenes which encapsulate the intuitive understanding between sisters, luminous memories, laughter and shared humour, fond reminiscence, childhood, parental endurance and commitment, family love.

Through all of this runs Frew's sensual and beautiful writing, laced with symbolism, motifs and metaphor. Using one voice throughout - Nina's - she makes the narrative feel almost autobiographical. Occasionally, the constant shifting between present and past disrupts the narrative flow. But Frew is tackling intense material here. And the reader wants to know the why, where and how Amber's addiction, which necessitates an intimate examination of the past.

Wildflowers is a stunning book, but may not be for everyone, especially those dealing with their own family stories of addiction. It's hard and sad and confronting at times. Frew doesn't shy away from exploring family breaking points, moments when people expose bare truths to each other, saying things that can't be taken back, crossing into dangerous territory from which there may be no return, no forgiveness.

Family love, however, can run deep, along with loyalty and hope for a better future. One more try.

Ultimately, Wildflowers shows that acceptance is the pathway to healing. We have to realise that sometimes we can't fix things, much as we may want to. True support lies in always being there, always offering love, as well as being able to forgive others for their weaknesses.

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