I’ve just finished listening to At the Water’s Edge, by Sara Gruen. What a delightful book, this was my first Sara Gruen novel, and I have to say, I’m already listening to Water for Elephants. At the Water’s Edge is a historical fiction/romance, and in my opinion, it was the best hetero-normative romance novel I’ve ever read.
I had just finished reading Ravensbrück: Life and Death in Hitler’s Concentration Camp for Women by Sarah Helm, a 700+ page compendium of the events that took place at the Ravensbrück concentration camp for women during the second World War, and I was desperately in need of something light and fluffy.
At the Water’s Edge did not disappoint. And, *spoiler*, although it contains allusions to a forbidden sexuality and an unrealized, impossible love, I do still consider this to be a very traditionally hetero-normative novel. At first, I was hopelessly against the main character, Maddie, who was weak and simpering, a true creature of her class and conditioning. In the beginning of the novel her husband seemed to be very nearly a good and true partner, but as the narrative progressed, he was revealed to be more and more of a monster. And, luckily, otherwise I would have different opinions about this novel, Maddie got wise to his ways and did something about her situation, finally ending up in the arms of handsome yet tragic Angus. (I did tell you it was a romance novel).
A theme of this novel, barely realized in the writing, but perfectly clear to a queer reader such as myself, was the damage that can be done to a person, and those around them, by the denial and repression of one’s true self. Maddie, the novel’s heroine, is married to a man named Ellis, the same one who, over the course of the novel, becomes, or rather is revealed to be, a vile, psychopathic monster. But, as I’ve mentioned above, there is more to Ellis than just what he has become. He did not become the way that he was for no reason.
Now here I’ll skip ahead, assuming that you’ve read the novel, and are on the same page as me. But if not, I would suggest reading the book first, it is certainly worth a read. However, if you are one of those people that has no intention of ever picking this book up and you still want to know what I have to say about it, then go right ahead.
Ellis, the fated villain, is gay. Maddie describes time and time again his inability to ‘get it up’ (my very eloquent words) for her. And in fact, when they do accomplish the deed, it is always done in the dark, with clothes on, and over with as quickly as possible. Further evidence is presented when Maddie looks through Ellis’ things (as she is putting them away, not snooping, at least not at first), she finds photos hidden away. Not photos of her or of his family, and only a single photo of Ellis himself.
The first photo is of Ellis and his best friend Hank, arm in arm on the shore of a lake somewhere, laughing and looking for all the world like the very image of youth and vitality. The second picture is of Hank; alone, shirtless, and gleaming with sweat.
Further snooping on Maddie’s part, coupled with the novel’s description of a long history of hetero behavior, make it clear that Hank almost certainly does not share Ellis’ predilection. And if he is queer in some way, there is no evidence of it.
To the queer minded reader, Ellis’ motivations for entering a loveless marriage and forming an addiction to pills (and later, morphine) become clear. This does not excuse the abominable things he does or the way that he treats Maddie, but it does go a long way towards explaining why he is the way that he is. Ellis is hopelessly in love with his best friend, who will never share his love in the same way, trapped in a place and time where the very unchangeable fiber of his being is a nasty slur on a man’s, and his family’s, reputation.
It is never clear whether or not Maddie suspects that Ellis may be gay, but she doesn’t seem to. She is too busy with all of his other lies and betrayals. But all of those, on their own, are enough to make her leave her situation. Ellis himself never gets a chance at redemption, he dies quite suddenly towards the end of the novel and we are left with a shaken Maddie and a heartbroken Hank.
How much of what Ellis was could have been avoided if he had lived in a time and place where being gay was fine and normal? He would never have married Maddie in the first place, but would his unrequited love for Hank have driven him to similar extremes and psychopathic tendencies? We will never know, but it is interesting to think about. Even villains have backstories.
Disagree with me? Tell me why, but only if you’ve read the book.