Irene Rutledge is a bold, knows-what-she-wants young woman studying for her doctorate in 1958. During the summer, she moves in with her best friend, Gloria, and for some inexplicable reason, is drawn to another post-grad living in the building, Frank Mattison, who almost everyone describes as weird. Gloria doesn’t like him much, telling Irene he has a number of very young, mousy girls in and out of his apartment all the time. Irene and Frank have a few awkward and terse exchanges, but eventually warm to each other after coming to the aid of a student on campus after a minor mishap.
Irene and Frank begin seeing each other, with Irene’s friends and parents disapproving of her new boyfriend. Why they disapprove is never exactly explained, other than that Frank is weird. He eventually confides a few details about his childhood to Irene, but for the most part, his past is dead to him, and he has no contact with his family. It’s the way he wants it, no exceptions. Eventually, the two become engaged, and Frank is apoplectic when one of his sisters, Vivien, crashes the wedding rehearsal and Irene invites her and her husband to the rehearsal dinner.
A few years later, Vivien is also at the hospital when Frank and Irene’s daughter is born. Despite Frank’s feelings, Irene does have contact now and then with Vivien, growing ever confused about the conflicting stories she’s hearing about his family. Who’s telling the truth? Irene has problems rearing her daughter, Regina, who’s doted on by her father, perhaps doted on too much. When Regina becomes a teen, she distances herself from her father, Frank becomes obsessively overprotective, and Irene fears the worst. Eventually, all that’s been hidden comes out into the open.
The story is told in first person, through Irene, and it’s fairly well done. Other characters don’t shy away from telling her their opinion of her, and she candidly relays their comments. I didn’t care for Irene’s passivity when it came to raising her daughter, though. She defers to Frank, which I find more than a little unbelievable, especially since she saw that her husband’s misguided coddling eventually led to a spoiled hellion in need of discipline. It was good to see Irene not back down after Regina does something unconscionable to a smaller child (this occurs while Frank is out of town).
The first third of this novel was intriguing, with a number of tantalizing questions. I was thoroughly engrossed in the mystery surrounding Frank and his past, and I vacillated on whether or not to like Irene; she started off as a smug, self-centered, attention seeking bitch, then mellowed, only occasionally slipping back into unlikable mode. Then, just over a third of the way in, after Frank and Irene marry, the story slumps into a narrative of their domestic and work lives. After their daughter is born, it becomes an unending treatise on martial strife, conflicting approaches to child rearing, Frank’s sudden, but fleeting, political activism, and Irene’s work woes as a high school teacher during the turbulent sixties and seventies. And let’s not forget Regina, who at six, makes Damien Thorn on his tricycle look like an angel.
It’s during this middle portion of the book that all the intriguing mystery of the beginning dissipates to be replaced by red herrings and situations that strain your willingness to suspend disbelief. Things finally pick up again in the last quarter, but the domestic trials and tribulations in the middle are taxing, with too much seesawing on Frank’s possible ulterior motives.
The shocking revelations weren’t all that shocking, I suspected a few things early on, and the primary antagonist, during the big confrontation, engaged in some silly mustache-twirling. I’ve read other books with a similar theme or revelation, but they were handled with much more finesse, even pathos. I won’t spoil the very end, something of an epilogue, but will say that I liked it, even though it has a sadder-but-wiser quality to it. It makes perfect sense, given all the dramatic upheavals.
The book’s structure suffers from not having chapters, and the narrative jumping years ahead from one paragraph to the next, which leaves the reader with no good stopping points and the novel no chance to breathe. Early on there were some scene breaks, but those are quickly dispensed with.
A quick read that starts strong but slides into mediocrity in the middle, Blood Secrets manages to rebound, even with the far-fetched climactic scene, saved, in part, by a thoughtful, and for me, satisfying ending. When all is said and done, it’s not a bad read. *** out of 5