Several decades ago (2001
or 2002), I went with a friend to a local literary festival. One of the authors,
Richard B. Wright, read from his new book at the time: Clara Callan.
The story is primarily told through an exchange of letters and Wright’s short
reading intrigued me enough to buy the book.
My friend who attended with me has never warmed to the book, while I’m drawn back in every time I read it. What is it about this story that resonates strongly with me?
Clara Callan follows the lives of two small-town Canadian sisters, from the end of 1934 to the end of 1938. After their father’s death, thirtysomething Clara stays put in the family home, teaching school in their small Ontario hometown, as her father did before her. Her younger, more adventurous sister Nora is ready to spread her wings and moves to New York City, using connections to get work as an actor on radio.
Their letters back and forth chronical their lives during these four years; journal-type entries from Clara add further background detail. As Nora settles into her life in New York, her co-worker and free-spirited friend, writer Evelyn Dowling, also begins writing Clara. Clara’s letter topics range (and jump around) from the minutia of daily work and small-town life, such as keeping a coal furnace going in winter, to more weighty matters including her early-in-the-story rape and having to deal with the resulting pregnancy. Nora’s letters typically focus on her burgeoning career; her social life with friends, co-workers, and various men, as well as advice for Clara around expanding her seemingly little life.
But while Nora initially appears to be leading the bigger life, cautious dutiful Clara comes up from behind, experiencing significant life changes as the story unfolds. She distances herself from God and her church, while Norah continues to believe. She travels to New York, then Italy with Norah and her emotionally abusive boyfriend, offering Norah support throughout the journey. She also participates in an intellectually satisfying correspondence with Norah’s friend Evelyn. Later Clara begins seeing a man she met at a movie theatre, continuing even after she learns he’s married. Small-town rumours circulate and she is harassed. She finally breaks off her relationship with the married man, but finds herself once again pregnant. This time she decides to keep the baby, forcing her to resign from teaching and embark on a bold new life as a single mother as 1938 comes to a close.
Norah and Evelyn have dramas of their own, contributing to respective personal changes in both work and life; but their evolutions seem less surprising than Clara’s. In fact, their boldness and brashness seem subtly tempered over time by wisdom won through hard knocks.
Wright does a fine job of writing for these three strong, unique women. His ability to do so reminds me of the talents of Wally Lamb. In an era when women’s voices were essentially silenced or eclipsed, his focus on such voices is refreshing. That said, I would have liked to have seen more substantial, nuanced, and positive male characters. Other than a few mentions of Clara’s late father, and her teaching colleague, the only other men represented were a rapist, several cheating husbands, and a narcissistic abusive boyfriend. One would hope the men of the 1930s had much more to offer.
I also appreciated the Canadian context of this novel. The backdrop to a good portion of Clara’s year is the dark, bleak Canadian winter. Wright does a good job of capturing the claustrophobia and wearing nature of this season; and, admittedly, that atmosphere could be off-putting to some readers. Yet, this winter bleakness is counter-balanced by the hope and new energy of spring, the lushness of summer, and the crisp beauty of fall. For those of us who live in the land of Canadian seasons, it feels familiar and reassuring.
Also dark are some of the themes explored in the book: rape, illegal abortion, small-town intolerance, depression/mental illness, sexism, the limited options for women in that era, and politics (particularly in Europe) leading up to World War Two. Yet again, these are ably offset by the positives and small wins of everyday life, including the acceptance and support Clara, Nora, and Evelyn are able to offer and find in each other.
As my friend would attest to, Clara Callan is not for everyone. It is no beach-read romp, which is sometimes what we really need as winter drags on. But there’s also so much there to embrace and take comfort in: the bond of sisters (and siblings) who are different but mostly accepting of those differences; the power of reciprocal communication to ground us and help us feel known; the energy and promise of personal evolution, and the way life can surprise us and we can surprise ourselves.
