BookBrowse Reviews Absolution by Alice McDermott

BookBrowse:

Alice McDermott shows new insights into global and personal power relations through an underexplored perspective on the Vietnam War—that of American military wives.

Absolution by Alice McDermott is an examination of moral relativity through characters who have the qualities of both victims and oppressors, saviors and interlopers: American military wives living in Saigon in the early '60s, when "the war, Vietnam itself, was nothing at all like it would become."

The protagonist Tricia is a somewhat naive, somewhat progressive 23-year-old kindergarten teacher married to an engineer, Peter. The newlyweds are Catholics, which makes them relative outsiders, though their faith is shared by both the American and Vietnamese presidents in this historic moment. Tricia wears her hair in a bouffant, consults the Betty Crocker cookbook before she goes shopping, and truly aspires to be "a helpmeet to [her] husband… a jewel in his crown"—a metaphor that highlights the parallel between patriarchy and colonialism.

She finds a purpose for herself in her unfamiliar surroundings when she's swooped up by Charlene, another corporate wife, at one of the many cocktail parties typical of the times that offer men the opportunity to advance their careers and women the opportunity to support them. Whereas Tricia feels awkward and out of place attempting to play the role of sophisticated adult, Charlene is an irresistible dynamo, glowing with privilege that makes her seem "both regal and feral." Charlene enlists Tricia into her "cabal" of women who, through not always lawful means, procure toys, clothes, and other comforts for sick and wounded Vietnamese.

Their latest scheme involves bootlegging a new toy, the first doll that isn't just meant to be taken care of but has a full life and career of her own: Barbie. When one of the corporate wives' servants, Lily (in fact, her name is Ly but Charlene has renamed her), fashions a doll-size ao dai, a commonly worn Vietnamese tunic, for Charlene's daughter, the "Saigon Barbie" craze is born. The profits the thematically resonant plaything brings in go towards the cabal's charitable efforts. Meanwhile, Lily/Ly, beloved by Charlene and Tricia, earns a pittance for her labor.

The story is told retrospectively through letters between Tricia and Charlene's now-grown-up daughter Rainey, so that the ironies of this ethically complex situation are made explicit. Tricia writes, "I've heard the phrase of late, 'white savior.' Charlene, despite her freckles, would have fit the bill."

McDermott seems interested in writing about degrees of marginality, of guilt, and of goodness. The women endure their husbands' sexist jokes and the patronizing attitudes of male doctors they often work alongside in their mission to provide relief to the ill; yet they themselves tend to otherize the Vietnamese people, despite their best intentions. And of course there's the bigger picture: the reason the Americans are "cocooned" in the country in the first place is an unstable mixture of quixotic democratic fervor and pure greed.

Absolution takes a thought-provoking fresh perspective on a much-fictionalized chapter of history, which is best represented by the fact that it elides John F. Kennedy's assassination and focuses instead on when the First Lady gave birth to a stillborn child and was the last person to find out about it after the media quickly broke the story. "You have to understand what it was like in those days," Tricia writes, "for us, the wives."

The novel isn't without slight flaws. Perhaps it's period correct, but young Tricia's innocence and ignorance can feel too on-the-nose, as when she exclaims "Holy smokes" or "Oh, our marvelous servants." And older Tricia's parenthetical self-criticisms start to seem intrusive after a while. Also, when Rainey eventually takes over the narration, her writing style is remarkably similar to Tricia's. But these are trifles.

A major theme of Absolution revolves around the bodhisattva known as Dizang in Vietnam, a figure in Buddhism who's chosen to serve the underworld before he can reach nirvana. Charlene understands him to be a martyr "of inconsequential good," "assigned to the saddest and most futile of projects," such as protecting the souls of children in limbo from demons. Several of McDermott's humanitarian characters might fit that description. Some view their own efforts with cynicism, some are almost too selfless to be true, and some are tricky to judge. What's certain is that their stories are all compelling and that they genuinely make the reader assess what it means to make a difference, for better or worse.

This review was originally published in The BookBrowse Review in January 2024, and has been updated for the November 2024 edition. Click here to go to this issue.