Afterall

Naomi Brun is a freelance writer and a book reviewer for The Hamilton
Spectator.

There seems to be an emerging subgenre of novels featuring the gritty,
urban side of life in British Columbia. Perhaps local writers scorn the
province’s image as a veritable Shangri-La of tree-hugging granola
eaters who live as one with nature, and quite possibly the drug-crazed,
prostitute-laden British Columbia of these novels is a more accurate
representation of reality than the impression held by the rest of
Canada. I can’t be certain because I don’t live in British Columbia.
There just seem to be a large number of novels being published that
present a Vancouver or a Victoria with a street life that could compete
with downtown Montreal, and Afterall fits into this category quite
nicely.

Reading Afterall is an experience in magic realism. All the elements of
the story seem quite commonplace—a single 30-something protagonist, a
dinner party, a quiet little boy, and a night spent in the urban
core—but somehow, when all the pieces are put together, the sum total
looks like an impossibility. The 36-year-old protagonist, Beth, for
example, sees the world in a whimsical fashion, calling the boy’s
mother Maple instead of Mabel, and without any consideration at all,
impetuously announces at Mabel’s dinner party that she will spend that
very night with these curious homeless people just to see what it feels
like. When Mason, the little boy who seems nearly autistic, tells his
mother that he would like to go, too, her joy at his self-expression
prevents her from saying no.

The whole story hangs on this solitary peg, that a level-headed woman
would let her needy, nine-year-old son spend a night on the streets of
downtown Vancouver with a slightly unbalanced colleague. The novel only
works if the reader can accept this decision as a likely possibility,
and I don’t think that many readers could. Neither of Mason’s
parents have any real way of reaching him, and it seems highly doubtful
that they would allow him to be in that much danger just because he
voiced an opinion.

When Beth drifts to sleep and Mason wanders off, the reader goes on a
tour of all the perils Vancouver has to offer, and this section hangs
together nicely. The harsh setting complements Kvern’s minimalist
style quite well; Beth’s anguished search for Mason has a redemptive
quality that adds depth to this otherwise madcap tale.

Kvern has attempted to create a postmodern fairy tale in Afterall, and
like all fairy tales, the reader must be willing to suspend disbelief.
The writing is interesting and certainly different, but not plausible
enough for most readers.