Book Review - Room

What really gets me excited about reading is when I come across a particular book that requires me, the reader, to think about something in a new way.   It's even better when the new perspective comes attached to a compelling story.

Room, by Emma Donoghue, could claim to be about a number of things.  I'm going to be one of those annoying reviewers who promises that the novel is best read with as little foreknowledge as possible, which is definitely true in this case but only for about the first fifty pages.  Unfortunately, that means I also have to keep my mouth shut about the other three-hundred that follow, but I think the lack of preview is worth it.

Ultimately, what I think Room is about, and what it as a novel does best, is deliver a unique lesson about perspective.  Those first fifty pages (or so) have our five year-old narrator, Jack, talking about objects and his surroundings and schedule in a room in a way that doesn't really make sense.  Until you know the reason why, it's almost difficult to read because...well...that's not how we talk.  Then the question becomes, "Why?"  Why is this boy's perspective so different than mine?  Where is he?  What is he doing there?

As the answers are divulged and the more recognizable backstory is presented along beside Jack's, the author challenges you to stay with Jack and his point of view.  His incredible experience allows each of us readers to break down some common, everyday occurrences, or even what could be considered general truths, and really examine their validity.

Donoghue does an amazing job of keeping a realistic vibe while describing a sensational story.  The attitudes and actions of most of the characters are fascinatingly predictable, both in a good and bad way.  In other words, I know these guys.  They represent me and my world.  However, because of Jack, there is more to consider.  If my world doesn't make sense to Jack and Jack's world doesn't make sense to me, is one superior to the other?  Due to the premise of the plot, the answer to this question, this time is yes.  Obviously yes.  Jack has suffered from not being a part of my world and as he adjusts, he'll understand that.

But Jack was happy in his world.  Perhaps he wouldn't always have been.  Circumstances being what they were, it's fairly easy to assume that would have been the case.  It made me think, though.  My world seems pretty ideal, particularly because I am an American, white, and middle class.  Doesn't the rest of the world suffer because they don't have all the same experiences and opportunities that I have?  Isn't my world superior to theirs?  I think of the women in the world who wear Burquas, or who have to wash their clothes by hand or even those who can only have one child as dictated by their government.  Surely my reality is better than theirs.  After all, I can wear whatever I want in public, I have a front loader that cleans a load of clothes at the touch of a button and three charming boys who delight me.   I think those other women couldn't possibly be as happy as me with those limitations placed upon them.

Maybe that's the case.  But maybe not.   Probably not.  After all, happiness is a state of mind.  Heck, there's been enough literature, movies and facebook status updates to highlight that money (or nationality or race or any number of things) doesn't make us happy.  We make ourselves happy.   With one child, or twenty, covered or uncovered, by hand or by machine.  Our happiness is only dependent upon our ability to choose it.

Ah, I digress.  This isn't about me, or the world, it's about Jack.  It's about a little boy in his room who could choose happiness in large part because his mother gave him the ability by shielding him from the alternative misery.   I like that thinking about Jack made me think about these other things, though.  I like that even though the author wrote a story about a boy whose world was a room, writing about a room made me think about the world.