Booth by Karen Joy Fowler
Over the last few years, I have become more interested in the American Civil War for two reasons. The first is why I now read so much non-fiction: an increasing awareness of my ignorance about so much. The second is because the recent chaotic state of America, still the leader of the free world in my opinion, clearly has deep roots. It seems increasingly obvious that such shocking events as George Floyd’s public murder and the Capitol riots are part of the ongoing, and seemingly unresolved, consequences of the Civil War.
That’s why then I was drawn to this Booker long-listed novel about that tumultuous period in American history. Fowler takes as her key point of reference the assassination of Lincoln - the first of those murders that characterise America’s modern history - and explores the state of the nation through an epic, sprawling focus on the family of John Wilkes Booth.
Like all good schoolboys, I knew that Booth was an actor who shot Lincoln in his box at the theatre in the dog days of the war. What I was not aware of was the fact that he was part of America’s foremost acting dynasty - think the Redgraves for a more homely British equivalent.
The novel begins in the early 19th century and as we surmise not long after famous Shakespearean actor, Junius Brutus Booth, has brought his family from London to a rural homestead in Maryland - we later learn the scandalous reason why he has chosen to make his career in America and in such a remote location. Junius’ hugely charismatic and idiosyncratic personality dominates the first half of the novel. Interestingly enough though, Fowler regularly switches the family character whose perspective leads the narrative but does not use Junius for that purpose. Instead it is his range of unusual or unfashionable views - vegetarianism, anti-slavery - and his brilliant public performances and wild behaviour away from the stage that light up the family’s domestic routines. He is away for nine months of each year taking the bard to the different corners of this sprawling new country, sending back money from his triumphs to support his growing family.
The story, however, remains rooted with the left behind family and the perspective comes initially from his eldest daughter Rosalie and then her younger sister, Asia. Rosalie early on accepts her role as the unobtrusive family carer, deeply affected by the childhood deaths of her siblings, who supports her mother to run the family in her father’s absence. Asia, beautiful and spirited, constantly fights against the restraints of being a woman and rather surprisingly becomes the family’s chronicler.
This early section is as much social history, with fascinating insights about the acting life as the country moves westwards, and about life on a 19th century American farm with a family of a similar status to Austen’s Bennetts. However, in two respects there is a larger perspective. Throughout the novel, Fowler intersperses the family’s story with short extracts from letters, speeches by Abraham Lincoln and news reports about him. We know how this story ends and we see the man of destiny moving towards that tragic destiny.
The second level of subtle perspective is supplied by Joe Hall and his family. Joe is a freed slave who runs the Booth farm. Yet his family is spread around the surrounding farms and are not free, and he is helped to run the farm with indentured slaves whom Junius leases from his neighbours. Despite the Booth family’s enlightened views they are compromised - much like the American economy where morals often clashed with business.
When Junius abuses himself to death via his wild roistering, the focus falls more on his sons. They have all moved on to the family business and begin the arduous yearly round of touring in order to support the increasingly stretched family. Fowler particularly focuses on Edwin, the second eldest surviving boy, and the true inheritor of Junius’ acting talents - this is significant. There is a deliberate turning away from John, the youngest, spoiled child. We learn about the circumstances of his birth that provides him with his own sense of destiny as well as his less benevolent wild nature. He is handsome, dashing and has some of his father’s charm but it is skin deep and does not encompass Junius’ big-heartedness.
As I stated, we know where the story is going and yet it is still thrilling and disturbing to see the family unwillingly bound up in a national tragedy. John’s confederate sympathies, at odds with his family, eventually become intolerable for his indulgent family to contain. His arrogant sense of being chosen for this moment, leads John to Lincoln. The two strands of the story come together briefly and portentously; and this is perhaps where this excellent novel faltered slightly. The ending was tidied up, with Lincoln and the family quickly consigned to history. Having spent so long with the family, this was disappointing but then, again, it must be difficult for a writer to move on from such a senseless real life climax.
I can thoroughly recommend this book. It is an imagined history of a resonant period in the modern world’s history and it had the ring of truth and deep psychological insight.