Home of theAmerican Circus is a poignant novel about a family estranged and the enduringness of love. When thirty-year-old Freya returns to her hometown to deal with the inheritance of a crumbling family home after the sudden passing of her parents, she is forced to face the people and events that sent her away, but is also brought back into the fold of the people she never wanted to leave. She finds herself as a caregiver to her niece, Aubrey, in many ways a younger version of herself and someone she seeks to save. The characters in this novel are sharp and vivid, a collection of flawed and hurt individuals, many who find their way forward, and some who do not.
One thing I really valued about this novel was its many elements of realism. Of course, fiction often takes liberties in order to tell a compelling story (and this novel does as well), but when so often there is a complete disregard in storytelling of
the real-life barriers that prevent resolution, Larkin does not shy away from
these issues. Freya faces real-life dilemmas of employment and bills and the
management of money, as well as legal questions and responsibilities of
caregivers. Freya not only is dealing with the trauma of returning home, she – like
so many in the real world – is facing that trauma while also battling fears
and worries of how to survive, and how to support Aubrey. Unlike other novels,
I wasn’t left with niggling questions of how a character moved forward with
something – it was most often explained and beautifully woven into the broader
storyline that built up to a strong climax and conclusion. And just as
importantly, resolution with all who’ve done harm is not something most can
find in their lifetimes, another important exploration of human relationships
that Larkin tackles with a masterful pen.
This novel was also a strong series of metaphors that spoke to me on a human level. The title refers to a circus, referencing the claim to fame (or infamy) of the town in
which it is set. The captured elephant that is celebrated in the town’s history,
first to be known to exist in America, most likely suffered tremendously due to
its environment, and specifically its lack of family at such a young age. The
characters frequently say “Sorry, Bet” as they pass the elephant statue, a commentary
on the many harms our society has historically done, and continues to do to
children. Another metaphor that caught my attention was the house itself. Freya
returns to a crumbling home and although she manages to rebuild it in places,
she cannot do it entirely, and must also find the strength to let it go. This is
the reality of trauma, of homes that weren’t what children needed, and tribute to those who find a way forward despite their crumbling foundations.
This exploration of found and chosen family is haunting and beautiful, and I highly recommend this novel.