Leeway Cottage by Beth Gutcheon, HarperCollins , 2005, 416 pages, $14.95

By Donald H. Harrison

If this novel, recently reissued in paperback, were merely another story about several generations of self-absorbed WASPs sniping at each other through tight smiles, it would be pointless to review it here. However, the novel also contains a dramatic recapitulation of the mass escape of  Jews from Nazi-occupied Denmark to neutral Sweden plus a reconstruction of life and death in Ravensbrük, a death camp for women and children.

I use terms like "also" and "plus" because the Holocaust information seems more an add-on than an integral part of the story—as if Gutcheon, whose skill as a novelist is undisputed, had done all this research on the Danish rescue and then didn't know what to do with it.  So, it appears, she tacked a riveting historical story onto what I regarded as a tale about rather tedious mothers and daughters who, under a thin veneer of civility, do whatever they can to make each other's lives miserable.

There are differences between personality battles and real wars, and, to her credit, Gutcheon shows herself to be quite good at portraying both. I have had the opportunity in Copenhagen to interview participants in the Danish rescue—among them members of Rabbi Melchior's family and Ebba Lund, the so-called girl in the red cap who directed many Jews to the boats that carried them to safety.

Like Gutcheon, I have sadly reported that the wonderful tale of King Christian X wearing a Jewish arm band was a myth unwittingly popularized by Exodus author Leon Uris. Because of these experiences, I recognize in Gutcheon a novelist who has done her homework as an historian.  Her research is impeccable, first-rate, and the chapters on Danish rescue and resistance are well-worth reading.

However, the Danish story is maddeningly tangential to the main plot about a dreary family that spends its summers being dysfunctional in a proper sort of way in a fine old home overlooking the Maine coastline. 

None of the main characters is directly involved in the Danish rescue; the closest anyone comes is Laurus, the Danish immigrant husband, who is sent to London to serve in a special unit encouraging resistance groups behind Nazi lines. His sister, Nina, still in Denmark, is a heroine through whose actions much of the heroic story of the Danes is retold.  Nina is a fictional character, but these chapters are also peopled with genuine heroes such as physicist Niels Bohr who pleads successfully with the King of Sweden to grant refuge to the Jews.

Nina eventually is caught by the Nazis and her harrowing experiences at Ravensbrük—which Gutcheon chooses to tell almost as an after-word—render her traumatized.  We are left  guessing why she can no longer connect with the world, although we can intuit why she can have no meaningful relationship with  Laurus' wife, Sydney, who is the book's main character. 

In an interview reprinted in the back of the book, Gutcheon responds "of course" when asked if  Laurus and Sydney are metaphors for their countries, or for the United States and Europe. Accordingly we can say of the two characters that there is no real conflict between them, they don't clash, they co-exist in a habitual relationship of affection. Sydney is too involved in her little battles to inquire too deeply into the experiences that reshaped Nina; for her part, Nina is far too psychologically knotted to untwist her psyche, especially not in the company of someone as devoid of empathy as Sydney.  Laurus is content to leave well enough alone.

As readers, therefore, we are challenged to draw our own conclusions about the depth of European suffering; and the shallowness resulting from Americans' pampering. Frankly, I was disappointed; I'd have preferred for the author to have staked out some conclusions for us—perhaps in a dramatic confrontation between Nina and Sydney over what is important in life and what isn't. In not insisting that there be some showdown in that Maine cottage, perhaps Gutcheon gave too much leeway to her indecision over how to best mix history and fiction.