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A compelling debut
TOMATO GIRL
By Jayne Pupek
298 pp. Algonquin Books $23.95
Reviewed by Julie McGuire
“What’s the use of make believe if it can’t be the way you want it?”
—(Ellie Sanders, narrator)
Jayne Pupek’s thoughtful and compelling debut, Tomato Girl, is a Southern novel in the tradition of Pat Conroy and Carson McCullers, both of whom explore themes of difficult familial relationships, heated racial tensions, and calamity within the context of a specific place—the South. The entry on Southern literature in Wikipedia states, “Some critics specify that the previous definitions of southern literature still hold, with some of them suggesting, only somewhat in jest, that all southern literature must still contain a dead mule within its pages.” Tomato Girl doesn’t contain a dead mule; it is, however, replete with almost unbearable tragedies.
Not for the faint of heart, Tomato Girl takes the reader on an emotional journey with Ellie Sanders, the wise-beyond-her-years narrator, whose world is perilously close to the edge of disaster:
Another awful time, Mama wound tape around our parakeet’s beak because the bird wouldn’t be quiet. She’d only meant to quiet him, but she wrapped the tape up too high on his beak, covering the holes where Paco breathed. Daddy dug a small grave in the yard to bury him, but explained we could not mark it or ever talk about the parakeet again. “It will upset Mama when she realizes what she’s done,” he’d said. “And other people wouldn’t understand. This is best forgotten.” I’d nodded then tucked away my sadness, like a handkerchief in my pocket. Keeping secrets came easy after so much practice, but some things you just can’t forget no matter how hard
you try.
Eleven-year-old Ellie does not have a typical childhood. Her mother, Julia is severely mentally ill—sometimes requiring sedation with horse tranquilizers when her prescribed medication fails to calm her “nerves.” Her father, Rupert, exhausted from years of caring for his wife whom he describes as “a lily caught in a hurricane,” succumbs to the charms of teenager, Tess, who sells her tomatoes to the local grocery store. Unlike other children her age, Ellie’s make believe world consists not of gutsy super heroes, ferocious dinosaurs and potent magical powers, but of a world where her mom doesn’t hurt things or herself, her dad is emotionally available again, and where the Tomato Girl disappears forever. Ellie is asked to grow up much too soon, constantly walking on eggshells to prevent her mom from having a “spell.” Ellie tells us:
I rest my satchel across my lap and practice fractions in my notebook or recite my spelling list: SORROW: S-0-R-R-0-W; TOMORROW: T-O-M-O-R-R-0-W. I go over my words until I can spell them by heart. Sometimes I read my lessons, sounding out the words I don’t know because I’m afraid to ask Mama. Her nerves are wound tight as a watch. I don’t want to upset her. She might cry or take off her clothes. I’m always afraid she’ll drop the baby.
When Ellie’s mom is badly injured and hospitalized after a perhaps not-so-accidental fall down the basement steps, Ellie’s father invites Tess to live with them, ostensibly to help take care of the household chores. Tess’s own childhood has been traumatic—an epileptic, she was sexually molested by her father during seizures—and she is much too adult for Ellie’s taste, and Rupert’s good. Tess’s introduction into the Sanders household has far-reaching and devastating consequences. In a moment of sheer recklessness, Rupert makes a decision that destroys his family. “I curled up in the corner and closed my eyes [says Ellie]. For once, I wasn’t afraid what dreams might come while I slept. I knew now that bad dreams can find you even when you’re awake.”
Ellie seeks refuge in Clara and Jericho, a black couple who provide Ellie with security, stability, and chocolate chip cookies—achingly normal eleven-year-old delights. Ellie’s friendship with Clara and Jericho, however, is not looked upon kindly by the townsfolk, and Ellie soon loses her remaining friend from school. Each time I think that Ellie can’t take anything else another curveball is thrown that catches me by surprise.
Pupek, author of the book of poetry, Forms of Intercession, and former social worker is a skilled writer whose adroit handling of emotionally-charged themes prevents the book from becoming thoroughly depressing. She writes convincingly in Ellie’s voice, and manages to leave the reader believing there is at least a glimmer of hope for good in a world gone bad. Pupek renders an astute portrait of the mid-20th century South. Tomato Girl is an impressive debut. I suspect that Pupek will be a star on the writing scene for some time to come.
Julie McGuire, fiction editor of The Internet Review of Books, is a litigation paralegal. Her personal essays and poems have appeared in the Christian Science Monitor and several small periodicals. She and her family live in Virginia.
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