Bold, brilliant, and a little bizarre, Mother Tongue is a story about motherhood, womanhood, and the desire to be true to yourself – no matter who that ‘self’ is.
Mother Tongue is the second novel from producer and writer Naima Brown, and it’s one that cements her status as a writer of incredible and profoundly insightful – yet a little unnerving – stories. It is well worth a read if you’re looking for something to sink your teeth into. Just be careful – it may bite back!
The plot of Mother Tongue, as viewed from outside, sounds a strange one. A struggling young mother named Brynn falls, hits her head, and awakes from the subsequent coma speaking fluent French, only capable of speaking English in a heavily accented voice. Those around her – her husband Eric, childhood best friend Lisa and young daughter Jenny – aren’t sure how to deal with this new, French version of the woman they thought they knew. In the midst of this mire, Brynn flees to pursue a new life in another country.
It’s dramatic, pushing the boundaries of belief, and yet it’s a deeply familiar story. At its core, it’s about a woman for whom the pressures of being a wife and a mother weigh heavily, and about her need to escape from that pressure or be crushed. It also explores how that decision to leave affects those around her, from the husband who lets his anger sink him into conspiracy and blame, to the daughter who grows up facing complex feelings around the idea of a family. The story is strange at times, yes, but in a manner that brings a fresh angle to another story, one that’s told time and time again.
From the outset, this novel is a confronting one, suffused in the tension often carried by stories that you know will get much worse before they get any better. The sections of the three primary viewpoint characters – Brynn, Eric, and Lisa – contradict each other in some ways and explain each other in others. They reveal deep flaws in each of them, offering insight into the mindset of people you might not agree with, as they attempt to justify or confront their mistakes.
It’s not afraid to get weird, to illuminate the parts of motherhood and of American society that we often prefer to leave in the dark. And, what makes it fundamentally intriguing, is that it provides no hard answers on which viewpoints are right and wrong – only what each character thinks of their own and other’s actions. It forces you to question yourself: what do you think? What was the right thing to do? And, of course, could I have done any better?
This novel is dense enough that I could write a hundred essays about the themes and symbolism and narrative parallels found within its pages. It employs such incredible imagery, which really cuts to the heart of the complicated issues it discusses. Furthermore, the novel engages in discussion of so many different topics, from motherhood and the way women are treated in society, to language and the way we can (or can’t communicate), with an insight and a depth that left me nigh-constantly intrigued. Hell, the fact that it tied meaning into a dinkus changing.
But, this weightiness does not make the novel too heavy to read, not by any means. It can get a little challenging at times, yes, but the lightness of its beautifully written – and at times luscious – prose and compelling characters keeps you constantly engaged. At times the plot moves slowly. But, often I found it was only when I looked back that I realised just how little physically happened in a chapter I had just finished, instead there was such a deep interiority to every little moment.
Mother Tongue is not a book I recommend lightly. It’s beautifully told, but dark and intense. If you are up for the challenge, and love tragic stories about flawed – yet somehow still compelling – characters, however, I will gladly press it into your hands.
FOUR STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Mother Tongue by Naima Brown is available now through Pan Macmillan Australia. Pick up a copy at your local bookstore HERE.
