Oscar and Lucinda

Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey completely absorbs one into the story and leaves a lasting impression on the reader. The struggles and pain that each character endures, often silently, moves the reader quite profoundly through Carey's beautiful writing style, and makes this story unforgettable. The exploration into childhood is arguably the most powerful part of the novel as it immediately introduces the themes of fear, isolation, and the complicated mix of love and pain in Oscar and Lucinda’s relationships with their parents, as well as creating parallels between multiple characters in their experiences during youth. Oscar in particular seems helplessly vulnerable and fearful of the world around him, and both Oscar and Lucinda grow up unprepared to fit into the societies they were born into, causing them to be outsiders for the duration of their lives. Many elements of Oscar’s childhood overlap with each other, contributing to, and sometimes causing, his complicated relationship with his father to be strained and damaged.

There are numerous factors that play into Oscar’s difficult relationship with his father. The first encounter that the reader sees between Oscar and Theophilus is a violent and dramatic scene, initially making Theophilus appear like a tyrannical and cruel man, and arguably a typically Victorian adult figure in literature. However, there is a hint at Theophilus’ parental care in this scene, as Carey makes it clear that he believes he is saving Oscar from being punished by God. In this way, although the cause of his behaviour was seemingly unjustified, it would explain why his behaviour was so panicked and rough, as it was coming from his want to protect his son.

Furthermore, following this scene the narrator softens Theophilus’ image by explaining how the traumatic and painful experience of the deaths of both his wife and two children, combined with an extreme God-fearing religion, have caused him to be excessively overprotective of Oscar. Theophilus only appears to know how to express his love through physical actions, such as gently listening to Oscar’s heart, and sitting beside him at night to listen to his breathing. These tender acts of love and care are revealed to the reader as stemming from his fear of losing Oscar, therefore provoking sympathy and understanding for him. However, whilst the reader is reassured by these descriptions of love and Theophilus’ desperation to keep his child safe, Oscar is never given an explanation or apology for being struck, and so continues to feel angry and resentful towards his father, beginning to doubt everything he has been taught about their religion. Their lack of a communicative relationship causes their bond to strain and break, as Oscar feels frustration and resentment towards his father but is unable to express it.

Oscar loses his faith in his father as his protector, and Theophilus cannot communicate his love, leaving Oscar feeling neglected and unsure of his father’s feelings. This bittering towards Theophilus is made more dreadful by the extremity of Oscar and Theophilus’ desperate and isolated situation. Peter Carey artfully summarises this immense loneliness: ‘[they] had supported each other, silently, not wishing to touch their hurt with words’. He continues: ‘[they] were united by blood, by the fundamentalist certainties of a dissenting faith, by this dead woman whom they could not talk about directly’, and ‘in the silence of their eyes they understood each other and said things that would have been quite unthinkable to say out loud’. This reminds the reader that they are the only survivors in their family, enhancing their dependency on each other, and as their relationship deteriorates, emphasises the saddening fact that they are both losing their only allies in life. Their faith also isolates them from their society, and removes the chance of finding comfort or companionship from the outside world.

Lucinda’s experience of childhood, similarly to Oscar’s, has many overlapping elements, and is largely dictated by parental influence. However, contrasting to Theophilus’ traumatic experiences as an adult affecting his parenting, Lucinda’s mother, Elizabeth, experienced her trauma as a child, accidentally causing the death of man, and it haunts her mind into adulthood. This causes Elizabeth to be incredibly strict with Lucinda as this event gave her an underlying fear of carelessness and imperfection, which Lucinda later calls the ‘disease of neatness’. The moment in the novel where this is particularly evident is when the young Lucinda brings her doll home after trying to make its hair neater, and her parents react violently. However, Lucinda’s relationship with her mother is not wholly negative; despite ‘temper and anxiety’ being common aspects of her childhood, Elizabeth and Lucinda share some rare but wonderful experiences and play together outside, giving her moments of joy and freedom that Oscar never seemed to have with his father. Elizabeth does admit, however, that she created a fantasy for Lucinda to exist in that did not align with the society they lived in, which resulted in Lucinda’s upbringing branding her as an outcast, just as Oscar’s did.

Oscar and Lucinda’s adulthood is also written in a captivating way, making the book both quite difficult to put down, and one that the reader wants to read slowly to savour the experience. Although it is a tragic, and sometimes harrowing, story, the excellent writing quality makes this a must-read, and I think anyone would find this novel enjoyable and moving.

Rating: 4.5/5