So Lucky
by Nicola Griffith
Farrar, Straus, and Giroux. 192 pages. $15.
NICOLA GRIFFITH is a British expatriate who lives in Seattle with American writer Kelley Eskridge. She’s an acclaimed novelist who has won awards for her fiction in various genres, including for Hild, a well-reviewed historical novel about Saint Hilda of Whitby, a key figure in the conversion of the Anglo-Saxon peoples to Christianity in the 7th century.
Her new novel So Lucky, a slim book about the progress of a little-understood chronic disease, multiple sclerosis, seems unexpectedly narrow in scope when compared to previous efforts. However, the subject matter is partly autobiographical. Nicola Griffith has been living with this condition for years, since her diagnosis forced her into a career change: from self-defense instructor to full-time writer.
Griffith’s stark, dramatic style is perfectly suited to the story of a woman who loses everything she had counted on, including a prestigious job as executive director at a national AIDS foundation. Mara’s doctor advises her to rest, but she is determined to complete the organizational budget. After an argument with an assistant about better accessibility for disabled clients (and herself), Mara distractedly types a rude message on a spreadsheet. She is told that she needs to leave her job due to the “emotional lability” that is an apparent side-effect of her medical condition. A seasoned negotiator, Mara asks for eighteen months of continued employment-related health insurance. She is offered a year of insurance, and no more.
Abruptly faced with a regimen of experimental drugs, solitude, and fear for her future, Mara acquires a companion animal, a kitten as feisty as herself. She also applies her organizational skills to finding others with similar symptoms, creating a patient-directed group, and applying for funding. The sporadic betrayals of her body, and the agonizing side-effects of the drugs, are as vividly described as any battle scene.
The patronizing indifference of the general public to visibly disabled people, and the greed of drug companies, are shown clearly enough to provoke outrage. British and Canadian readers (such as this reviewer), who enjoy government-funded health care, are likely to feel confirmed in our disapproval of American capitalist medicine, despite modifications provided by the Affordable Care Act.
There is a subplot about the kind of unknown assailants that Mara, a former expert in self-defense, has trained herself to fight. A pattern of break-ins with physical violence against disabled people prompts her to do some detective work and to contact various law enforcement agencies. At first, she is met with predictable condescension. And as if that were not enough, a pattern of eerie sights and sounds suggests that Mara is either hallucinating or is haunted by some demonic force.
Despite the grim subject matter, this novel is as fast-paced and engaging as a thriller. The sheer courage and determination of the woman warrior at its center prevents the narrative from lagging. Although a cure for multiple sclerosis is nowhere in sight, the suspense is resolved in a satisfying conclusion.
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Jean Roberta, a frequent contributor to these pages, is a widely published writer based in Regina, Saskatchewan.
