I’m moving to a different city in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula in a few weeks, so that’s uppermost in my mind these days. All the endless details, half-filled boxes, scratched-out lists, and memories of these past years that grab me when least expected, bringing tears to my eyes. I’m sure that most of you have been there in one form or another. At this point, what better topic for my blog post?
I’ve always enjoyed books where the main character moves to a new home in an unfamiliar town. In the new spot, there’s the painting, organizing, exploring, and then… Stories with this theme seem to fit into about three categories, I’ve noticed. First, you have the ones where everything starts out hunky-dory, and then things start to go downhill quickly. Author Ira Levin was a master with this type, as exemplified in both Rosemary’s Baby and Stepford Wives. The protagonists’ new homes were great until they got involved with the suspicious and creepy neighbors. Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn, could also fit into this group, since the move made by the main characters from New York to Missouri was certainly a catalyst, fracturing an already fragile relationship.
Another plot line related to moving would be where it’s touch and go for a while, but eventually the lives of the characters you love turn out better than anyone could ever expect in their wildest imaginations. Think Safe Haven, by Nicholas Sparks. Girl runs away from abusive husband and hides out in idyllic location near the ocean. She meets handsome new love interest with adorable kids and, of course, things begin to go awry as her past threatens to catch up with her. After a breath-taking couple of twists in the plot, well, I won’t go into detail in case you still wanted to read this one.
The third group seems to be the most realistic, where the main character relocates for an often heart-rending reason and works toward building life anew. The Year of Pleasures by Elizabeth Berg fits neatly into this groove, with the main character experiencing the entire gamut of grief, introspection, doubts, small delights, and eventual self-actualization.
As I tape up my last box and throw away the final list, I’ll certainly be hoping that Ira Levin won’t be orchestrating my personal story from the great beyond, since I don’t think that I’d make a very good Satanist or robot. I picture myself more an Elizabeth Berg sort of an individual. Once transplanted in my new home, I’ll have to really get on the stick with my writing if I’m ever going to get a whiff of that self-actualization stuff. Knowing that I can use my new experiences and emotions as an impetus in my work is certainly a draw, and I can hardly wait to get back to it.