Room
Emma Donoghue’s bold novel about a little boy and his mother imprisoned in an 11 x 11 foot room both haunting and sweet
Jack lives in Room with his Ma. He is five, and sleeps in Wardrobe while Ma sleeps in Bed under Duvet. He holds Blanket while watching TV and switching the planets with Remote. Most nights at 9 p.m., Old Nick comes into Room and Jack has to stay in Wardrobe until he’s gone.
In a time where children are being stolen and kept in underground captivity for years, Donoghue’s “Room” is especially insightful — without being obnoxiously zeitgeisty. When reading, I would occasionally stop myself and try to wrap my head around the concept of complete isolation: trapped in an 11 x 11 foot room with a child you’re trying to raise as normally as possible without letting him know that an entire world exists that he may never be part of, but that you lived in for 19 years. The thought is paralyzing, and if dwelled upon, will make you feel like the walls have closed in on you, as well. But that’s where Donoghue softens her shocking concept with style, telling the story of Jack, Ma and Room from Jack’s perspective: that of a wide-eyed little boy who thinks everything in Room (except for when Ma’s “Gone”) is extraordinarily entertaining. For Jack, Room is the epitome of a safe haven, despite its being the truest sense of hell his mother has ever known.
Through Jack, the story unravels: we learn how long Ma has been there, that she’s tried to escape, and what happens when she angers Old Nick (the moniker Jack has coined for the man who keeps them in captivity — a reference to hearing on television about how Old St. Nick comes in the middle of the night). Jack’s unique syntax is charming, reflecting a child’s innocence with a demand to understand the reasons behind everything. He’s incredibly astute for a child of his age, considering his limitations and a worldview bolstered in the belief that everything depicted on television is fake and made simply of colors. His world is his mother, and the world is theirs — they’re “dead spits,” as Jack says. Although their story is harrowing, their love for one another and Ma’s willingness to create and maintain every possible illusion to encase Jack in as pleasant a world as possible is pretty incredible.
Through Jack’s interactions with Ma, we are able to see that Jack’s entrance into the world — however disturbing — saved her life and gave her a hope she probably wouldn’t have had otherwise.
I don’t believe in plot spoilers. But what I can say is that the last half of “Room” will make you think deeply about how you interact with the world, how the world interacts with you, and the boundless reaches of human adaptability and love — a concept which becomes much more powerful when everything else is stripped away, and you’re left with the disturbed basic realities of human existence. “Room” is a quick read, and most likely, you won’t be able to put it down until you’ve finished. But when you do, there’s no question that Donoghue’s well crafted and heartrending story will stick with you.
