
home
| art & architecture | books & cds | dance
| destinations | film | opera | television | theater | archives
..
....
The Sweet Hereafter
|
|
|
|
The Sweet Hereafter (1992), Russell Banks |
|
|
|
Russell Banks, over the course of three decades, has quietly emerged as one of the finest
American novelists. He was 27 years old when his first novel was published in 1967. The
Sweet Hereafter (1991) is his eleventh book, and like most of his work, especially the
much-admired Continental Drift (1985) and Affliction (1989), it is set in
northern New Hampshire, a densely forested region of mountains, harsh winters, and
impoverished rural communities. Banks's evocation of this New England outback and its
isolated inhabitants has a mythic grandeur that invites comparison with classic
regionalists such as William Faulkner and Willa Cather.
In The Sweet
Hereafter Banks dramatizes the aftermath of a tragic accident in the fictional New
Hampshire town of Sam Dent (named for a long dead and forgotten local land developer). On
a treacherous stretch of highway, the driver lost control of the school bus, which plunged
down a snowy embankment and crashed through the ice covering a deep water-filled sandpit.
The story never neglects the sense of hardscrabble economic blight and despair that
defines this community and its relationship to the impersonal forces of nature that
claimed the lives of 14 children. "It's a landscape that controls you," says
Mitchell Stephens, the slick New York lawyer who arrives in town with hopes of convincing
the victims' parents to mount a class-action lawsuit. "It's dark up there," he
says, "closed in by mountains of shadow..."
The voice of
Mitchell Stephens - one of the most compelling characters in recent fiction - is one of
four that share the narration of The Sweet Hereafter in alternating chapters. Banks
is equally deft with his other narrators: Dolores Driscoll, the feisty middle-aged bus
driver who survives the accident torn with shame and guilt, but her dignity unbowed; Billy
Ansel, an alcoholic Vietnam vet and garage mechanic whose twin daughters died in the
crash; and Nichole Burnell, a teenager who was on the bus and survives to mark out her
days paralyzed in a wheelchair. Each of these characters is fleshed-out and rendered with
complex psychological shadings, their individual versions of events overlapping and
intersecting one another so that the novel never feels disjointed or too schematic.
Mitchell Stephens is
the novel's stroke of genius: while he is the ultimate top-dollar ambulance chaser,
seemingly amoral and cold-hearted, he becomes a deeply compassionate presence. His
strained long-distance relationship with his drug-addicted daughter Zoe haunts him and
fuels his rage against a soulless modern culture he believes has stolen his daughter from
him. Even his litigious zeal, we soon realize, springs from his feeling of helplessness in
the face of his daughter's turmoil.
As he begins
interviewing grieving parents and using all of his professional skills to inspire them
with righteous vengeance and visions of a huge monetary settlement, the community neither
cracks apart nor comes together in anything like a predictable manner. And when Stephens
and the wheelchair-bound Nichole Burnell become unexpected adversaries during the taking
of her deposition, we glimpse at last the novel's tough-minded moral compass, which is as
pitiless and cold-eyed as New Hampshire in the dead of winter.
The novel ends
during another seasonal extreme, the heat of August, with all the book's major characters
in attendance at the town's annual demolition derby. It's an extraordinary chapter and
Banks manages to make it both transcendent and hard-edged, showing the community
spiritually cleansing itself through a ritual of automotive mayhem that seems to reenact
and dispel the worst of their emotional pain. Interestingly, it's a scene that Atom Egoyan
chose not to dramatize in
his 1998 film adaptation, which
nevertheless remains remarkably true to the spirit of Banks's novel (Banks is on record as
being highly supportive of Egoyan's interpretation), particularly in the brilliant
performance by Ian Holm as Mitchell Stephens.
The Sweet
Hereafter is a quick read. The film is a unique experience that is its own reward.
Should you have access to the latest technology, the excellent DVD of The Sweet
Hereafter offers a fascinating discussion between Russell Banks and Atom Egoyan on the
art of adapting books into films.
- Bob Wake