It’s been five years since J.K. Rowling released the final installment of the Harry Potter series of which I was a huge fan, even owning my own replica Tom Riddle wand. Rowling seemed to have pigeonholed herself into role of fantasy writer for children. That being said, she deserved a chance to break from her own self-cast mold.
Advertised as Rowling’s first “novel for adults,” The Casual Vacancy, without question, delivers in that regard. Explicit scenes of sex, domestic abuse, mental disorder, infidelity, drug addiction, rape and suicide litter the pages. It’s hard not to feel as though Rowling compiled a list of so-called “adult” themes and wrote a book around them.
While most of these themes do come into play in the grand scheme of the narrative, the very serious issue of rape does not create much turmoil and is quickly overshadowed by the victim’s mother’s pervading substance abuse problem.
The novel opens with the death of Barry Fairbrother, a member of the small town of Pagford’s parish council, on his and his wife Mary’s anniversary. From there, the book follows the denizens of Pagford, a cast of too many—eighteen main characters, as the death affects them—or doesn’t.
Often the book feels disorganized, or at least inconsistent in its organization. Part one is organized by days of the week, chronicling various townsfolk from Sunday, the day of Fairbrother’s death, to Friday, his funeral. This seems irrelevant, as parts two through seven make no reference to days of the week whatsoever.
Following part one is a brief section called “Olden Days,” which provides a brief history of Pagford, outlining the main conflict in the book. This in itself seems randomly placed and would have served better as a prologue or not included at all. As for organization, Rowling gets a pretty low score (not to mention the extremely liberal use of parentheses to provide backstory).
The main conflict is a pretty substantial and legitimate one. Barry’s death leads to an imbalance on the council, leading Howard Mollison, the self-satisfied head of the council and owner of a local delicatessen, to take full authority on a controversial town issue over whether or not to relinquish a region, the Fields, over to Yarvil, the neighboring and flourished city and whether or not to close a nearby methadone clinic.
Once you overcome the initial confusion of figuring out who’s who, you see the characters for who they are. Unfortunately, who they are is a group of pretty despicable people all with hidden motives. The narrative features negligent single mothers, abusive fathers, outrageously flippant teenagers and backstabbing best friends.
There is one character, Krystal Weedon, who is actually likable. Krystal is the confident daughter of a single, heroine addicted mother enrolled in the methadone clinic’s program, her 3-year-old brother’s primary caretaker, a delinquent student, former member of the school’s rowing team (disbanded after the death of the coach, Barry), and denizen of the Fields.
Rowling’s use of Krystal as a foil against the “Pagfordians” goes far in ironically underscoring their corruption. Where she represents the product of a broken home, someone who teaches herself responsibility and initiative, other characters—especially Howard and Shirley Mollison—who look down on her represent the snarky, smug result of the upper class.
What’s more, the smuggest of these characters serve on the council, speaking volumes about how Rowling feels toward the political system. Pagford political figures rejoicing in Barry Fairbrother’s death, going so far as to use it as a political tool, offers insight as to how tainted with Machiavellianism even the smallest and most insignificant of political establishments are.
Despite the lack of likable characters, the plot is still captivating. Small things that seem infinitesimally insignificant come back at some point or another, whereas larger issues like rape or finding the truth about one’s true parentage have little bearing on the plot.
While this could be perceived as a flaw, and I still hold it as one, it is also something unique to the novel. The emphasis on small events, such as throwing a computer away in the River Orr, reflects on the novel’s small town theme.
A few characters, mostly mothers, often turn a blind eye to truly dramatic events. Their doing so reiterates the town’s uniform desire to put on a picturesque persona of quaintness.
The ending does well in ironically tying many things together in a climactic and dramatic turn of events. A hero emerges (or should I say submerges?), but the problem rests in Rowling’s lack of development of this particular character, so there is little pride and little inspiration in seeing the character rise above.
Don’t go into this book expecting anything like Harry Potter, as it leaves you feeling depressed and, if you’re really into it, even hopeless, whereas the Harry Potter series does quite the opposite.
All in all, Pagford and its denizens are sure to make some mark on the literary world, whether it will be large or small only time will tell. The book is worth a read, maybe even two, but you won’t catch me owning any replica Pagford paraphernalia.
