In 1996, now-deceased American horror author Richard Laymon published the rather cheesily excellent book Body Rides.
It was more of Laymon’s usual fare — shlock horror dressed up with pretty language, gratuitous violence, a little tawdriness and more than a little sexuality.
But the truly interesting part of the story was its central premise. It concerned an ancient Egyptian talisman that allowed its wearer to project their consciousness into someone else’s body, where they would reside as a passive passenger.
Hence the title — characters in the book literally ride in other people’s bodies as if they were fairground attractions.
Most people, I think, would be fascinated to be a fly on the wall in the lives of other people. However, I’m not sure most people would be that comfortable actually inhabiting another person.
Laymon plays with this concept and takes it to a somewhat absurd conclusion, but the ride — pardon the pun — is worth the destination.
I mention all of this because when I first dove into Barbara Boswell’s latest offering The Comrade’s Wife, my mind was drawn back to the artefact in Laymon’s book.
And it’s for one simple reason. Written in the first person, from the point of view of a middle-aged black woman in modern South Africa, The Comrade’s Wife does an excellent job of placing you in the shoes of the protagonist.
You not only share experiences with Anita, our literally fearless heroine, but as the book progresses, you inhabit her.
Boswell’s writing is so evocative, and so anchored in emotionally adroit language, that you start to not only identify with the character, but develop an emotional kinship.
Empathy, but turned up to 11. And it’s truly remarkable.
The plot has been seen before in other works — a whirlwind romance between a charming rapscallion and a maiden fair who has been wronged in her past.
Things are choppy at first, then the keel evens out and finally we begin to list dangerously in the direction of the shallow reef that we should have known was there in the first place.
However, the plot is not the reason I would advise picking up this book. There are so many others.
The first would be the style. Boswell is an associate professor of English Literary Studies and the head of department of the same subject at the University of Cape Town. So, it makes sense that well-constructed sentences flow from her like crystal-clear Himalayan run-off.
Her prose is at once thought-provoking and emotionally impactful and more than once my big brother instinct kicked in, making me want to put my arm around Anita and whisk her away from the bad guys.
Anita is an empathetic and well-constructed character, an intellectual and intuitive woman well aware of her own agency and in touch with her feelings. And she is marvellously represented in the writing of this story.
But, beyond the above-mentioned qualification, Boswell has postgraduate qualifications in gender and women’s studies. This is the lode she mines the deepest in this story.
Anita is not only a victim of workplace injustice and discrimination due to race and gender, but has her own unfortunate experience with gender-based violence, as well. There are those who would say that it sounds contrived that so much can go so wrong for one person but this is a reality that many women face.
It’s not a problem confined to South Africa but we certainly do have our own particularly nasty struggle with it.
Anita’s first marriage crumbled silently, but devastatingly, due to problems conceiving children and her only real friends are holdovers from her university days.
Again, it sounds as though one might be piling it on a little but this is a reality for many, many people — alone and wondering where it all went wrong in their mid-to-late forties, on top of the pre-existing tension in life.
But, as with most grown-ups, Anita perseveres, puts her head down and gets on with life. But one does feel as if her semi-isolation and sense of “me against the world” primed the pump uniquely for her to be swept off her feet by Neill, the aforementioned charming rapscallion.
Neill is a successful lawyer-turned-politician. The ruling party he serves is never named outright but it’s very much a “nudge, nudge, wink, wink” that any card-carrying South African will understand immediately.
Neill is handsome, physically fit, intelligent, unbelievably rich and incredibly charming. Don Juan de Marco with a law degree. It’s no wonder that Anita is completely and utterly smitten with him.
But things slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, begin to turn.
I remember binge-watching the entire series of CSI: NY years ago with my girlfriend at the time. Whenever a (usually male) character was introduced who was too cagey, too lucky or too charming, we would look at each other and say, almost at once: “Do we trust this guy?”
I had the same feeling in the pit of my stomach when Neill first casually strolls into Anita’s life.
From here, the story takes us on a whirlwind tour of one woman’s emotions as she is slowly and methodically weakened by the self-serving actions of a … well, the term “narcissist” is bandied about on the internet these days as a sort of catch-all term for any person who is even mildly antisocial, but there are certainly cases where use of the word is warranted. As it certainly might be here.
This is where Boswell’s writing truly begins to shine. As a white middle-aged male and the son of an immigrant, I am the furthest possible demographic from Anita. Yet I felt her emotions as if they were happening to me.
Not since Tom Robbins’ Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas, a book told in the second person from the point of view of a young Asian-American woman, did I find myself so comfortably inhabiting shoes that were so clearly not made for me.
This was both remarkable and wonderful to experience.
In summary, Barbara Boswell’s evocative writing and insight into the human condition make The Comrade’s Wife a more than worthwhile read.
The Comrade’s Wife is published by Jacana Media.