Stretching the case
Cressida Connolly
RESTITUTION by Maureen Duffy Fourth Estate, £15.99, pp. 247 The nature versus nurture debate makes as compelling a subject for fiction as it does for science and political debate. As work on genetics becomes ever more widely dis- seminated, it is tempting to err increasingly on the side of nature, to believe that we are born, not made. We've always known about inheriting physical characteristics — in my family, a ridiculously protuberant right ear is one of my late father's legacies — but recent research suggests that a host of more tenuous traits may be bred in the bone: a melancholy disposition, or the ten- dency to addiction or overeating.
This area has always been a political minefield, and one which arouses passion- ate feeling. Part of that feeling is, of course, fear: fear that we'll get cancer because our grandfather did; fear that social policy could be determined unjustly, by coming down too strongly on the side of nature; above all, fear of the evil of racism. The extraordinary popularity of Professor Steve Jones — surely the only geneticist ever to have fronted a television commer- cial — is due to his there's-nothing-to- worry-about stance. While espousing genetic inheritance, Jones reassures us that it's still only part of the infinitely complex picture of our lives. And he should know.
All of which has clearly much occupied Maureen Duffy. Restitution is a novel about identity both personal and national, about whether blood is really thicker than water. It has characters who are German, Jewish, British and black, young and old; in Duffy's compassionate, humane vision they are all haunted by the same dreads and desires. The result is a novel which would make even the most resolute of Eurosceptics flinch, because the conclusion that it draws is undeniable: we are all Europeans now.
This is a noble end, but in her eagerness to reach it Duffy somewhat over-eggs the cake. So keen is she to discredit the politi- cally incorrect claims of nature over nur- ture that she stretches the opposing case. In Restitution loyalty and love are not bound by ties of blood.
Mothers abandon their children with unnatural ease and frequency; couples pre- fer one another to their offspring, fascinat- ing antecedents produce dull, unintelligent progeny, or generations of plain folk give birth to exotic homosexual dancers. All of this occurs in real life, but never with such relentless, consistent disregard of genes. Occasionally a concession to heredity is thrown in for good measure, but with a cliché which further strains credibility: the exotic dancer turns out to have Negro blood, or the heroine resembles her heroic grandmother.
But to argue with a novel is no bad thing; proof, if proof were needed, that Maureen Duffy has lost none of her fire. Her breadth of knowledge and of outlook makes her a most rewarding sparring part- ner, and she writes like a dream. So it is no insult to say that I cannot remember being so exasperated by a work of fiction. Read- ing Restitution was like staying up late with a prickly old friend and a bottle of whisky, with one important difference: the next day I could still remember and relish every word.
Previous page
