Natalie Fast

My child, such trouble I have

Emma Donoghue’s excellent novel Room was rightly shortlisted for the Man Booker prize and the first four (three really) inept words that came to mind after reading it were: ‘really good, really creepy’. It makes me cringe now to think that I didn’t have anything more intelligent to say; but I was emotionally exhausted and, really, no words can quite describe the world Donoghue has created in an eleven square foot shed.

Room is 5-year-old Jack’s world, solely inhabited by him, Ma, Plant and the nightly visits from Old Nick. He hasn’t been lied to about his surroundings, just not told the whole truth. It is from this state of awareness, but not of information, that the unnerving story is told. The adult world is filtered through the eyes and mouth of a young boy so removed, and yet so central, from the grimmest aspects of Outside. To Jack, Room is normal. Things that he sees on TV are just TVpeople and TVanimals; the air that gets brought in when Old Nick opens the door is Outside air; and the Skylight (the only source of natural light) is Outerspace. Jack describes these boundaries and worlds so thoroughly that we almost start to become part of Wall, Bed and Sink.

Donoghue commands the narrative so powerfully that it never slips or sounds contrite. In Jack’s speech pronouns are missing, verbs muddled and repetition adored. This jaunty narration makes Jack a thoroughly compelling and strange little character. Through his innocent eyes and thoughts, Donoghue pours the violence, horror and adult traumas of our Outside world. There is a constant feeling of discomfort for the reader as we are put in the position of knowing more than the protagonist. It is more than just dramatic irony; we know what needs to be ‘unlied’ and we feel that we are withholding information.

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