Consent by Annabel Lyon

Consent by Annabel Lyon
Random House Canada, September 2020

Two pairs of sisters, two stories that intersect.

In one storyline, there are identical twins Saskia and Jenny, who are nothing alike in personality. Jenny is a sociopath from childhood onward.

        "That's boring. Play with me. You have to play with me or I'll set your book on fire."
        She would, too, in the bathroom sink, with the barbeque lighter. She had got a spanking last time, but it would not deter her from doing it again. Only Saskia could save her, by giving in. That was her one power. Still: "You're not the boss of me!"
        A lie. Jenny always got what she wanted, always. She could twist Saskia into any trouble she wanted.
        Jenny's eyes sparkled. Saskia was serious. That was how you told them apart.

In the other storyline is Sara, who has an academic mind and a taste for luxury goods. She is three years older than sweet-natured Mattie, who is intellectually disabled. When their mother dies, Sara takes responsibility for Mattie's well being. It's the third Canadian novel I've read this year with that premise, that of a sibling taking charge of an adult sister who has disabilities. Lynn Coady's Watching You Without Me and Andrew David MacDonald's When We Were Vikings are the other two. 

Consent and Watching You Without Me are both on the Giller longlist. While reading the latter feels like waiting for the train wreck that you know is coming, Consent is more like a puzzle, with the image not quite visible until all of the pieces have been confidently slotted into place.

Annabel Lyon has created vivid characters with complex emotions, the real stuff of familial love: loyalty, resentment, guilt and regret. Tragedy strikes both families and grief permeates this novel, but it's not all doom and gloom. There are surprises and touches of wry humour.

        She wore a black sheath and, round her neck and tucked into her belt, an indigo scarf of some impossible fabric, fairy wings, probably. Ten pounds of fairies to make a single scarf, harvested at dawn by peasant women in kerchiefs as the dew began to steam and the field fairies were just drifting up out of the grip of gravity. 

The Vancouver setting and weather ground the story in reality. 

        They met in Stanley Park, near the Rowing Club, and walked the seawall. It was a day of soft edges, grey drizzle, mist on the ocean and shreds of mist caught in the trees, and [he] told her some things he had never told her before. His life came into slightly sharper focus for her, though she said little.

For months, I've been looking at the cover design -- an upturned wine glass against a pink background -- in its thumbnail size online. It wasn't until I held a physical copy that I could see two additional details: there's a lipstick print on the glass and there's a spider trapped underneath. I'm not giving away any spoilers here, so I will just say that those little details are significant. This is a story with plot and I loved it.

If you haven't yet seen the full Giller longlist, check it out my reaction here or on booktube here. 

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This post is part of a series. I'm on the Shadow Giller jury this year, so I've been reading as many qualifying Canadian titles as possible. To see my other posts that are a part of this project, click on the Shadow Giller tag. Also, please visit our Shadowing the Best of CanLit website to see what the rest of the Shadow Giller jury are up to. Thanks for visiting my blog.