Exiles in the Garden

Ward Just has produced yet another subtle novel for grownups, particularly grownups who live in a capital city but have opted out of its primary business, politics. Just is a master of construction. The novel is made from a complex set of flashbacks, inner observation, re-entrant structures, etc, that are a wonder to observe but do not interfere with the narrative drive. The main theme of the book is, I think, the contrast between living a private life and a life of political adventure and involvement. Alec, the viewpoint character, is a lifelong observer - he is a professional photographer and a good one. His father was a senator, and his wife's father was some kind of political hero/actor. Without spoiling the narrative, I can tell you that we see Alec struggling quietly with what makes a life worthwhile in the light of his father, his wife's father, and his politically-involved neighbors. The crux of the novel comes toward the end, in a series of unexpected meetings. Even his daughter chooses to take part in the action in a way that Alec never does. But Alec has his life, and it is one that many might envy. Do you envy Alec? Read the book and find out. If you're a writer you will definitely envy Ward Just's skill. A few reviewers have opined that the book is dull. Perhaps subtlety moves across the line into dullness for them. I didn't see it that way, and I'm betting that you won't either. If you want more action, go read a spy thriller or something.

This is a novel about living life, not just the dramatic moment. Ward Just is the author of fifteen previous novels, three collections of short stories, a play and two works of non-fiction. His most recent novel was the justly praised Forgetfulness, a novel so good that I bought two copies of it (though by accident). Well into Exiles, Alex gets a letter from his wife, Lucia. She has written from Europe to tell him she is leaving him for good. Swiss-born, she's never felt anchored in Alec's Washington (DC). Now she's met a man, a European intellectual who makes her feel, she writes, as though her life is contained within, tied together by, a "red thread" that gives it shape and meaning. All of Alec's life, he has suffered a delicate malaise of disconnection. He has never felt bound by such a thread. Any novel worth its salt about Washington touches on politics but in this novel, politics sets the stage --is scenery-- setting but not substance. Alec grew up with politics, his father a five-time senator, but Alec has rejected his father's life just as, later on, as a photographer for a Washington-based newspaper (the Post?), he turns down an offer to go to Vietnam to photograph a war he doesn't believe in. Alec may wonder if he has been brave enough in his life, but he has consistently refused to inflate the value of things he doesn't believed in (like the war) and has lived the penalty for his refusal. His life with Lucia began unravelling when foreigners --exiles-- moved in next door to his house. Lucia became a fixture at their nightly soirees and Alec didn't, and the distance in interests and enthusiasms between them drove a wedge between them. Alec loses Lucia. He continues with his life. He leaves the newspaper, he gains transitory fame as a photographer of actors, acting and films. He meets, and becomes a uncommitted but lifetime partner with, a class B film actress. His former life -life with Lucia--intrudes when Lucia discovers that her long lost father, an old-style European revolutionary, is in a nursing home in Washington. Lucia doesn't even remember her father: he deserted her mother and her when she was three. She asks Alec to go meet him. Alec does.He finds himself fascinated by a man who has had no hesitations in making bold choices in his life. Why? What's the difference between the life of an Alec and an Andre (Lucia's father's name)? Just doesn't offer any easy answers in this extraordinary short novel, only a nuanced picture of a man struggling to make sense of his own, not someone else's, life. As always in Ward Just's writing, the book is filled with absolutely on the mark details ("A steward, immaculate in white, served drinks in long glasses to three girls sunning themselves on the foredeck. When the girls raised their hands to receive the drinks, their arms curved like swans' necks. The steward carefully placed a long glass in each and backed away, a priest at the altar." pp. 167-8) and small, sly truths ("Kim

Everyone is wounded in his or her own way in this very adult, highly pensive new novel by Ward Just. As the book opens, Alec, a Washington photographer, is at the bedside of his father, the long-nosed, multi-term power broker Senator, who is dying. We learn right away that his marriage has ended: Lucia, born Czech but raised in wartime Switzerland, ran off years ago with a dashing Hungarian with a strong sense of purpose. We also learn that Lucia had a limp, the result of a ski accident that left her partially maimed. And Alec? He is the only one who has not suffered broken bones or scars, it seems, but he DOES suffer from macular degeneration -- an inability to see clearly. There is subtle symbolism in nearly every page of this masterfully-written novel. The novel soars when it focuses squarely on the marriage of Alec and Lucia in the 1960s; a town with a powerful social structure, a sense of glamor and excitement with JFK at the helm. Lucia is particularly intrigued by the mysterious emigre couple next door; Alec differs, believing they are "damaged goods, a second-rate theatrical troupe giving nightly performances of the heartbreak of central Europe." But things change quickly. The couple moves away, and another couple move in -- loud lawyers who tear down part of the garden to build a tennis court. JFK gives way to LBJ and then Nixon. Alec and Lucia move to a bigger house and Lucia moves overseas, leaving him for a chance of a more authentic life with her Hungarian. And Alec? He lives on, avoiding conflict, keeping as far as he can from the Washington scene, living his life the best he can on the sidelines. That is, until, decades later, he comes face to face with Lucia's mysterious father, who was imprisoned first by the Nazis and then by the Soviets, risking his life and abandoning his family for his ideology. This subtle and well-written book demands concentration from the reader. But the questions it asks are timeless: "When do we become exiles in our own life? Is there true honor in turning down the opportunities for adventure to remain true to oneself? Are we foreigners ourselves in our own country?" I particularly enjoyed the inside look at Washington at a time when everything was changing.