Harriet and David are an unremarkable pair. They meet at an office Christmas party in the late 60s, the swinging element of that decade having passed them by, get married after a brief courtship and settle down in a big house in the suburbs, helped by a fat cheque from David's rich father.
Harriet soon finds herself up the duff and the couple manage to have four children in under six years, helped out each time by more dosh from dad. Their home becomes the centre for their extended family with scores of relatives descending upon them every Easter and Christmas. It is the perfect life and everyone is happy.
But then comes the fifth child. Ben was fighting pretty much from the womb and emerges a difficult and problematic toddler. He is violent and uncommunicative and his arrival explodes the family idyll.
Things only get worse as Ben gets older. He may or may not have been responsible for the death of the family pet. Harriet is convinced that he is some sort of changeling. He has ruined everything. The family stop visiting. The other children grow distant. So, obviously, his parents ship him off to an asylum where he cannot receive visitors and isn't expected to last all that long - a place where rich families send their problems and expect them to disappear.
Given that we are in the late 70s or early 80s by this stage, and not in Victorian England, this is a particularly sinister development. Clearly, Ben has ADHD or is somewhere on the autistic spectrum. He is not a troll or a goblin or a throwback to Neanderthal times, all of which are put forward as theories by his troubled parents. Their actions are horrific and, frankly, they deserve all that follows.
I won't say too much about what that entails but can reveal that Harriet brings a near comatose Ben back from the asylum in a fit of guilt and his disruptive infuence on the family is only amplified from this point on.
I was appalled by these fictional parents who resort to drastic measures when their comfortable family life is changed by the arrival of a difficult child. Having relied on handouts from a rich relative to maintain their lifestyle they cannot cope when things go wrong. They need a slap and, if I am honest, my annoyance at them did temper my enjoyment of the book somewhat.
The Fifth Child is at its best when Harriet and Ben are alone together and interacting and I am willing to bet a fair chunk of money that Lionel Shriver read this book before writing We Need to Talk About Kevin. The connections between the two books are obvious and numerous and both are potentially the more interesting for it.
I cannot say that I enjoyed this novel, enjoyed just isn't the right word, but I was impressed by how much Lessing was able to annoy and disturb my with her domestic horror story.
For 'obvious' reasons, I cannot / will not read this novel. Eeeek.
Posted by: D.J.Kirkby | December 29, 2012 at 12:12 PM
I read this book a few years ago with one of my bookclubs and it has stayed with all of us as really quite disturbing and sad. It often comes up in discussions about other books. I guess that is a sign of good writing - it haunts you for years after reading.
Posted by: Sarah | December 30, 2012 at 11:50 PM