Abortion has been legal for all of my adult life. What happened to young women in crisis pregnancies prior to Roe v. Wade? This novel about a home for pregnant women in a hushed up hotel in Arkansas piqued my interest accordingly. It’s narrated in the first person in three parts, first by pregnant Rose, next by her hero, Son, and third by her daughter, Cecilia.
Rose is not an unwed mother. She leaves her first husband when she discovers she is pregnant because she realizes that she does not love him. I am still wondering about this, weeks after finishing the novel. The husband clearly adored her, and Rose appears to love nothing except driving a car. To say that she was a shell of a character is unfair. She seems most human in the pivotal scenes that transitions the reader to a new narrator.
Rose realizes that she will not be able to give her baby up for adoption when she witnesses a live birth at the home. The home’s handyman, Son, has fallen in love with her, and he is there when she freaks out, and offers to marry her and raise the child. After little Cecilia is born, Rose busies herself as an unpaid volunteer in the kitchen, occasionally butting heads with the head nun. Cecilia is raised by the owner of the property with an interesting back story, but Rose remains an enigma.
When her first husband finally tracks her down upon the death of her own mother, Rose disappears again. Ultimately, the novel just doesn’t ring true to life. There is nothing heroic about driving away from a problem, nor is there anything redeeming in hiding from the emotional duties of motherhood.
Even when the birth leads to adoption, pregnancy changes a woman. Rose’s story is a tragedy, in which the duties of motherhood never really touch her soul. The backtext to explain this vapidity is that it is “harder for the pretty girls.” Pish, posh. Grow up, Rose! In the end, Cecilia finds meaning in taking on a caregiver role at the home, which is presented in the novel as resulting from the intercession of St. Therese…hence the novel’s name? Hmph.
The best part of the novel was the portrayal of elderly Sr. Evangeline, who ends up as Rose’s best friend because of her mysterious mind reading powers. (I’ve met a few Sr. Evangelines in my day, but never have I met someone as one-dimensional as Rose.)
The Patron Saint of Liars was designated a “notable” book by the prestigious New York Times Book Review in 1992, and was later made into a television movie. I wonder if Patchett re-reads her first novel and cringes at the lost opportunities to deepen her characterization. Then again, I’d rather not know what made Rose tick. I’m too busy looking beautiful whilst I sling that hash and wipe my own kids’ noses.
Discussion Questions:
Lying had become a way of life for Rose even before she left her first husband. Do you tell yourself lies sometimes? Often? Why? Is there a larger truth stalking you?
Peace for Rose is her girlhood home, idealized in her mind. Where is your peace found? Is it an honest peace, one you can share with others? Or a fantasy?
Was Rose courageous, or selfish? Why do you feel that way? If an argument erupts over this question in your group, ask each other to share one instance in their past of a courageous act of a woman. What is courage?