Reclaiming Landscapes

Landscapes
Christine Lai
Doubleday Canada, May 2023
$29.95

Landscapes, Christine Lai’s debut novel, includes a mix of narrative, essay, and journal entries to describe Mornington Hall, a one-thousand-acre country manor in England, obliterated by heatwaves, mould, termites and dark, protruding memories. In a post-apocalyptic world, archivist Penelope salvages the remains of a mildewed art collection, including the historic works of her idol, nineteenth-century English painter J.M.W. Turner.

As Mornington Hall cracks under the pressure of its upcoming demolition, Penelope prepares for the return of the estate’s former owner Julian, the villainous brother of her partner Aidan, who physically and sexually violated Penelope two decades before the decay of the manor. As Julian’s visit looms over her, Penelope is consumed by her past experiences of violence, the present-day packing of Mornington Hall, and her future reclamation of art, mind, body, and spirit. 

Landscapes was shortlisted for the inaugural 2020 Novel Prize, which is given out by three collaborating publishers: New Directions Publishing, Fitzcarraldo Editions, and Giramondo Publishing. This prize is awarded to authors who redefine literary fiction through innovative and imaginative styles.

Lai may be fresh to the publishing world, but this haunting novel of memory, destruction, and inner turmoil emulates similar works by Canadian-born British novelist Rachel Cusk and Japanese-born British novelist Kazuo Ishiguro. Lai grew up in Canada and lived in England for six years during her graduate studies, receiving a PhD in English literature from University College London and an MPhil from the University of Cambridge. She currently lives in Vancouver, B.C. 

Lai’s work of literary fiction details historic paintings depicting graphic scenes of sexual violence against women, broadening discussions around rape culture and female liberation through nature. Woven between eleven chapters of both Julian and Penelope’s alternating forms of storytelling are details of the artworks’ explicit violence and the presumption of harm Penelope has experienced. Her final seven months living at Mornington Hall before Julian’s scheduled arrival are pierced with anxiety. Penelope describes these moments as the feeling of drowning in her own memory and the all-consuming fear of the termites crawling within the walls. When the termites are exterminated, she likens the fear of their return to remembering her trauma and what it will be like to face Julian. 

Penelope’s nightmares continue to be haunted by termites and scenes of violence against people and animals to the point where she feels she “might die of the past.” In one nightmare, the termites descend upon her with rage “to the accompaniment of cymbals and drums like a symphony from hell” which she confirms is a “swarm of death itself.” Yet, Penelope continues to catalogue and pack up the large collection of artwork and books in the library. This pastime is her means of survival. 

With three months left until Julian’s scheduled return, Penelope reflects on the ways she’s inhabited silence. She remembers initially writing through her pain about what she refers to as the event and fleshes out the aftermath of what happened and how the places she once strolled with Julian became landmines in her memory. Through writing, Penelope learns that “waiting gives power to the other” and “what matters is not the event itself, but what [she] chose to do with it.” Penelope understands that while the flood of memories may return, she has the power to write her way out again. Although the book ends before the demolition of Mornington Hall, this intentional conclusion reveals a new path forward where Penelope reclaims her future. 

Landscapes invites readers to examine the ways sexual violence against women has been historically fetishized through art. Lai’s final essay showcases works by Doris Salcedo and her representation of violence through her sombre sculptures and installations. In this case, viewers can grasp the severity of pain, wounding, and dehumanizing acts of violence through the absence of gore and the inadequacies of language to describe the complexities of trauma. Lai also highlights the more recent work of Ana Mendieta’s Siluetas series, which portrays female figures among earthy landscapes. The artist uses elements of nature to mark the parts of the body that have suffered without victimizing the survivor, making space for conversations and new artwork focused on empowerment and liberation. 

Overall, the gradual decay of Mornington Hall is a symbol for the way past trauma has impacted Penelope and the building’s demolition represents how she is breaking free from an experience that doesn’t define her. As a reader and survivor of sexual assault, I can relate to Penelope’s daily struggles, especially through her reoccurring nightmares and the anxiety around facing her abuser. I understand how cathartic writing can be as means to heal through trauma. While I appreciate Lai’s decision to keep Julian and Penelope from ever crossing paths again, I wish Lai never gave a voice to Julian in this novel. I did not need further confirmation that this character — with a complex background of his own — is arrogant, greedy, and downright evil.