Ann Patchett’s luminous ‘Whistler’ is the must-read novel of the season
Book Review
Whistler
By Ann Patchett
Harper: 304 pages, $30
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At the recent glitzy PEN America Literary Gala at the Natural History Museum in New York City the evening’s MC, B.J. Novak, declared that the crowd was there to celebrate more than just freedom of speech — they were there for “literary glamour.”
“Writing is glamorous,” he declared. “Reading is glamorous.”
For Novak, bestselling novelist Ann Patchett — who has also worked tirelessly on behalf of independent booksellers and in support of her fellow writers, and was one of the event’s honored guests — epitomizes that allure. “I think it’s great that Ann Patchett is a smoke show. She doesn’t have to be,” he quipped. “It’s just cool that she is.”
With “Whistler,” Patchett’s 10th novel, she definitively proves that the “smoke show” moniker, if at all relevant, is icing on the cake. This exquisite writer has once again delivered an incandescent work of fiction — sweet, but never sentimental, infinitely wise and suffused with love. It’s also an ode to New York City itself.
“Whistler” is narrated by protagonist Daphne Fuller, a 54-year-old English teacher married to Jonathan, a restlessly retired doctor and hospital administrator who dotes on his wife and whom he regards as “extraordinary.” When we first encounter the couple, they’re roaming the Metropolitan Museum of Art — which, one gets the sense, they know by heart. As Daphne ponders the sculpture “Two Horses,” by Charles Ray, Jonathan spots an elderly stranger eyeing his wife, casting glances in her direction. The stranger follows them from room to room fixated on Daphne. Jonathan’s curiosity is piqued, and he slips away from his wife’s side to get to the bottom of why they’re being followed — which is revealed to be the novel’s inciting incident.
Turns out that stranger is no stranger at all. He is Eddie Triplett, a long-lost stepfather whose divorce from Daphne’s mother, Abigail, remains an unhealed wound. Running into Eddie now for the first time in more than four decades, Daphne is startled by the rush of emotion she feels: “I hadn’t known there was something in me to break,” she reflects, “but there it was and break it did. I stepped into an open crack in time and fell backwards.”
Eddie, as it happens, is but one of Daphne and her sister, Leda’s, three dads. By the time Abigail marries her third husband, mild-mannered Lucas, and the couple go on to have three sons, Daphne has grown a protective shell. These facts are narrated with detachment by the protagonist herself. As she and Eddie gently unspool their memories and together fill in the blanks, their bond deepens. The “falling backwards” Daphne experiences in Eddie’s company — traversing time — soothes, softens and delights her.
As the novel unfolds, what becomes ever clearer is that Daphne and her author are undeniably similar, though Patchett has observed: “I am normally careful to make sure there is a big wall between my life and my fiction.” In “Whistler,” she throws that caution to the wind. Easter eggs are scattered throughout. Like Daphne, Patchett is married to an older man — also a doctor — whom she adores. She too had three dads, as she chronicled in a 2020 New Yorker piece aptly titled “My Three Fathers.” Patchett and her heroine also appear to share this enviable trait: They navigate life with grace, generosity and utter competence. IRL, Patchett returns emails on the day she receives them, is an outspoken advocate for free expression, is generally renowned for her good deeds. She’s also widely known for her many devoted friendships, though she doesn’t suffer fools. You’d want to be her ride or die. As you would … Daphne’s.
In an interview 10 years ago, Patchett observed that it wasn’t until she read a piece by Jonathan Franzen, “in which he insisted that the novelist had to do what scares him most, and for him, that had been writing about his family,” that she considered following that path in her fiction. “I thought ‘oh nothing would scare me more. I would happily ride down the Amazon in a canoe and deal with snakes’ ” (as she did for “State of Wonder”) “ ‘than face my family.’ ” In 2016 she wrote “Commonwealth,” which drew on her personal experience of divorce and dysfunction, themes she revisits in “Whistler.” But in “Whistler,” it’s as if Patchett herself is in the reader’s ear. (And, by the way, should you pick up the audio version of the book, she narrates and is literally in your ear.)
Patchett has said she had an ulterior motive for writing “Whistler.” She’d been in the midst of writing a different book, a novel about a Wyoming rancher and her horse, Whistler, but it wasn’t clicking. As she pressed on over the better part of a year, a second idea came to her “like a fever dream.” She immediately filed away the messy work-in-progress and began writing a fictional ode to a cherished friend, former publishing executive Jim Fox, to whom “Whistler” is dedicated. Fox had died two years before, on his 85th birthday, and Patchett was still grieving. Her aim, with “Whistler,” she has said, is to put down on paper how much they loved each other. Fox is reborn as Eddie Triplett in the book, a charming and erudite book editor who radiates joie de vivre and is among the loves of his stepdaughter Daphne’s life.
Patchett’s literary style isn’t of the show-offy variety packed with dazzling sentences and edge-of-your-seat cliffhangers. The drama is quiet. Her words accrue and gain power through their spareness and clarity, and a level of character development that forges an easy intimacy with the reader. There’s also a sly wit and sagacity that have become Patchett signatures, honed to perfection in “Whistler,” whether wrestling with the legacy of family trauma, or the human struggle to accept the transitory nature of it all. Or, as Patchett’s mother once admonished after the failure of her daughter’s first marriage: “Stop trying to make everything permanent. It doesn’t work.”
While Patchett has clearly drawn on actual events and individuals to produce this luminous work, she exhibits the expert novelist’s knack for following a plot where the imagination takes it. I don’t recommend consuming “Whistler” in one enormous gulp. I dipped in and out, savoring scenes, reflecting on them, occasionally shedding a tear. In other words, I didn’t want it to end.
Haber is a writer, editor and publishing strategist and co-founder of the Ink Book Club on Substack. She was director of Oprah’s Book Club and books editor for O, the Oprah Magazine.
