‘The Wren, The Wren’ Review: Love and Trauma Across Generations

At first glance, it seems impossible to capture generational trauma in a single novel. “The Wren, The Wren” by Booker Prize-winning author Anne Enright is a tour-de-force that proves otherwise, deftly weaving the lives of Nell McDaragh, her mother Carmel, and her grandfather Phil into an intergenerational story of yearning and healing. Enright creates captivatingly empathetic characters that enrich her lush portrait of Ireland across the years. While the novel loses sight of these standout features at times, it remains an ambitious and compelling work on the whole.

The novel unpacks the hidden lineage of intergenerational trauma by alternating perspectives by chapter. Enright utilizes different points of view to create an intricate web of connections that prevents readers from easily identifying cause and effect or villain and victim. The novel begins with intimate first-person narration from Nell’s perspective, replete with an entertainingly self-critical tone. The novel then quickly moves to depict the childhood of Nell’s mother Carmel through a more distant yet more expansive third-person narration. The complexities of childhood trauma become even more enigmatic as readers are denied the same intimate view they experienced through Nell’s perspective. In just one brief chapter near the end of the novel, there is a glimpse of Phil’s perspective through first-person narration yet again. This choice creates a more nuanced portrayal of the man whose decision to leave triggers generational repercussions. Thus, Enright’s narrative choices to switch perspectives throughout the novel are intentional and effective.

The novel’s technical prowess extends to its ambitious incorporation of poetry. Poetry, central to the identity of the famous poet Phil and the aspiring poet Nell, creates divisions – and at the same time, subtle intersections between chapters. By including Phil’s poems in the novel, Enright creates an immersive reading experience that complicates the reader's position — the reader experiences Phil’s conflicting positions as the absent “Daddo” and the celebrated poet at the same time. This poetic sensibility extends to Nell, whose thoughts lapse into lines of poetry like “a thread of blood dropping / from a fat sky,” reflecting her own ambitions as an aspiring poet and her connection to her grandfather. This intricate layering of poems and poetic thought enrich the novel’s themes.

A standout feature of this novel is its subtle yet powerful depiction of Ireland as readers move through the generations. In the present, sexually liberated Nell stands in contrast to the cold, conservative environment of the past and the unspoken rules around adultery and divorce that Carmel had to navigate in the wake of Phil’s absence. Enright also underlines other aspects of Irish culture by incorporating the mythical “Foídin Mara” and translations of early Irish poetry. The specificity of the various places, honored through poems and the places that give birth to them, shows Enright’s intimate knowledge and appreciation of Ireland, from antiquity to modernity.

However, the novel falters when it loses sight of this specific cultural context and its power to draw readers in. Towards the end of the novel, Nell moves through different countries from Europe to Asia, creating a panoply of landscapes that seem impressive but lack the intimacy of the other chapters. The trope of the Western woman who discovers herself through travel seems cliché and discounts the deep connections between land, society, people, and family that seemed to be at the center of the novel beforehand. While one may argue that Enright’s inclusion of this travel sequence is ironic, it takes up a significant role in the novel’s resolution and distracts the reader, albeit momentarily.

Despite this, there are many other aspects of the novel that deserve praise. Enright’s delicate portrayal of women and their shifting roles is perfectly captured in her own author’s note: “It seems to me that women switch from Marthas to Marys from generation to generation: some get to tend and others to believe.” Through the novel’s representation of different generations, Enright offers up multiple perspectives on marriage, sex, ambition, and motherhood. It is impressive that she presents multiple ideas of womanhood and maintains a degree of human dynamism in these perspectives. As the women in the novel age and develop, their perspectives mature as well — at times converging and at other times remaining separate but amicable. As a result, the novel contains an ideological depth that encourages careful contemplation.

Enright’s novel is a prime example of ambitious writing, spanning generations and genres to create a moving portrayal of Irish women. The novel elucidates but never over-expresses the unseen and intimate connections that exist in families, especially broken ones. There is pain, but its source is not always clear. There is healing, but it does not come easily. Enright’s portrayal of generations of women draws its strength from its complexities.

—Staff writer Sean Wang Zi-Ming can be reached at sean.wangzi-ming@thecrimson.com.