A young woman falls in love, marries, starts her career, becomes a mother, experiences the joys and challenges of parenthood with her partner, suffers betrayal, and fears her marriage may not survive. So far, so familiar. Though the story may be old as time, Dept. of Speculation is a slim and unusual novel of quite an experimental form. Rather than a linear narrative where one scene evolves into the next, Offill has written a fragmentary novel. In this collage of vignettes, each short paragraph stands on its own. It is the white space between those paragraphs where we, as the reader, fill in the blanks and form our own story.
There are few characters in this novel, all of them unnamed. We meet the husband, the daughter, a few friends. Or perhaps “meet” is the wrong word. We see them through the eyes and interpretations of our – equally unnamed – narrator, the wife, the mother, the woman. The vignettes are her memories, thoughts and observations that float into view, like they would into a mind and thus build a picture, tell the story of a typically unique daily life of marriage and parenthood with all its highs and lows. Each of these fragments could stand on its own, neat and complete, “like your cleverest friend’s Facebook updates”, as I read in some other review (is facebook still a thing?). They are often clever and original, at times surprising and sweet, always perfectly put. Like that friend’s facebook posts, some will hit a nerve and stick, others are more forgettable, but they work their magic together in leaving enough room for the reader’s own interpretations.
Offill works with subtle shifts in tone and perspective to enhance the changing atmosphere in the couple’s home, the different stages their relationship moves through, as most relationships will. It is a gradual process when things get rocky between the husband and wife, a change we observe in a change in narrative as the wife distances herself from her family and thus is distanced from the narration.
Dept. of Speculation is experimental without being difficult to read as Offill skillfully leaves out anything the novel doesn’t need, there is no excess, no decoration, and yet it is a tender novel, full of heart, humour and warmth.
“When a student gets it, when it first breaks across his face, it’s so fucking beautiful, he told me. I nodded, moved, though I’d never taught anyone one single thing. What do you teach, I asked him. Rollerblading, he explained.”
This edition published by Granta, 2015.
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