Eleven-year-old Velvet takes part in the Fresh Air Fund summer scheme, two weeks staying ‘with rich white people’. She’s paired with forty-seven-year-old Ginger, an artist, married to a man she met in AA. The couple are considering adopting, although Ginger’s keener than Paul. Taking Velvet into their home is a trial to see what it’s like to have an older child around.
We called the organization and they sent us information, including a brochure of white kids and black kids holding flowers and smiling, of white adults hugging black kids and a slender black girl touching a white woolly sheep. It was sentimental and flattering to white vanity and manipulative as hell. It was also irresistible. It made you think the beautiful sentiments you pretend to believe in reality really might be true.
Velvet soon becomes acquainted with the stables next door to Ginger’s house. There she takes a shine to Fugly Girl, the most dangerous horse in the yard. While there’s a clear parallel to be drawn between Fugly Girl’s behaviour and Velvet’s, the stable and Velvet’s subsequent ability as a rider is also used to highlight the difference in the attitudes of Ginger and Silvia, Velvet’s mother, to Velvet’s new hobby. Ginger is delighted and encourages Velvet, seeing it as a way to develop their relationship further, allowing Velvet to spend weekends with her and Paul. Silvia is adamant that Velvet can’t ride horses, she’s worried it’s too dangerous, a worry that both Ginger and Velvet ignore.
Silvia’s not the only person concerned, Paul also worries, but his fears are directed towards Ginger’s relationship with Velvet, to the need he sees in both of them, to the addiction that’s forming on Ginger’s side.
What Gaitskill does well with all of these elements is complicate them. Silvia appears to be a bad mother, she’s angry and abusive, belittling her daughter. But how much of what the reader understands about Silvia is lost in translation? She speaks Spanish and her words are almost always conveyed in English by her daughter, son or an independent translator. When Gaitskill does give us Silvia’s words directly, we see a woman worn down by her situation and a mother concerned about the effect Ginger’s influence is having on Velvet, about how it will prevent her fitting in to the community which she belongs.
Ginger also struggles to translate Velvet. She views her through a prism of idealism, even when there’s sufficient evidence to show Violet’s lying or being lazy or rude.
I was the adult. But I never knew from one moment to the next if I was or not. Being this kind of adult was like driving a car without breaks at night around hairpin turns. My body tensed and relaxed constantly. I was always nearly ruining dinner or forgetting to pick something up. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to drink – really wanted to, for the first time in years. Was this what parenting was like, 24/7? My God, how did anyone do it? How did her mother do it, in a foreign country, in a bad neighbourhood where she didn’t speak the language?
The novel is largely told from Velvet and Ginger’s first person perspectives, in short chapters which run immediately on from each other. Gaitskill uses the structure to support her theme of people being unknowable, making it all the more interesting when the occasional chapter from the perspective of Paul or Silvia or Dante, Velvet’s younger brother, comes along.
The Mare explores themes of motherhood, race, class, addiction, marriage and love. It asks whether it’s possible to offer someone a different kind of life and whether it’s the right thing to do. It’s gripping, challenging and provocative. A gem.
Thanks to Serpent’s Tail for the review copy.