Nothing to See Here

Actually, quite a lot.

I read this last week, and have re-read much of it since. (It’s not long). The author, Kevin Wilson, wrote a much-praised novel The Family Fang, which I read and enjoyed but wasn’t wowed by. I enjoyed this one more. A lot more.

First, let me quote you some Flannery. Of course.

When you can assume that your audience holds the same beliefs you do, you can relax and use more normal means of talking to it; when you have to assume that it does not, then you have to make your vision apparent by shock — to the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost-blind you draw large and startling figures.

That applies here. The premise is absurd, but marvelously told by a narrative with a distinctive, engaging voice, and done so effectively and is, in essence, communicating true things, so that almost immediately, your disbelief is suspended. At least mine was.

Point of comparison would be Raising the Dad , another novel with an absurd premise, but so well written and emerging from such a place of truth that it made powerful points about parents, children, family history and even consciousness and humanity  in a quite engaging way.

Back to Nothing to See Here. In short:

It’s 1995, and a young woman ends up (and how is important, just no need to get into it here) being a nanny/governess for a high school friend’s son and daughter, two ten-year old children with a particular quality: they catch on fire.

There’s a lot of plot in this short novel, but I’m not going to summarize it. You can read it for yourself! I will say that a small part of the initial attraction is the setting, the somewhat familiar area around Nashville, specifically Franklin.

Okay, so no detailed plot summary. The only thing I want to say is that this notion of two children spontaneously combusting at certain times and the reactions of those around them to it becomes, I think, a quite effective metaphor for a couple of things about this life on earth:

• Obviously, the trauma we carry within us. And not just the trauma – anything. Any quirk, any “disability,” any baggage. Perhaps we don’t even have to go that far: any quality or personality trait, period. These things can be harmful to us and others. They are frightening. They make us weird. They set us apart. But they also can, depending on how we view them, use them, address them, rein them – be forces that render us powerful, produce good and even create beauty.
• Parenting. Lillian is a slacker, an accidental parent of sorts here. But her involvement with the children and their fire raises questions about her own purpose, what she’s been doing with her time on earth so far, what she’s carrying around, and what she now, has a choice to do with all of that, if not for her own sake, but for the sake of others – who really need her.

Nothing to See Here is sharp and true, with fantastic, succinct characterization and observation, much of it hilarious.  I read it through in a day and have been re-reading chunks ever since.

Roland shrugged. “We don’t have that much stuff to bring,” the boy informed us. He had stripes buzzed into the sides of his hair, and I was shocked to realize that their hair was unsinged. I don’t know why, with these demon children bursting into flames right in front of me, their bad haircuts remaining intact was the magic that fully amazed me, but that’s how it works, I think. The big thing is so ridiculous that you absorb only the smaller miracles.