Relationship – it’s challenging to describe the synchronous fleeting dynamics of human connection, particularly when poised precariously on the pillars of fragility and luminescence, for it resembles a chain intricately imbued and adorned with a mosaic of glistening beads, each glazed and interwoven wondrously, all perched delicately upon the foundational edifice of trust, mutual respect, love, understanding, compatibility, and, above all, empathy.
When the machinations of these attributes begin to diverge or veer off course, it can precipitate disastrous consequences, becoming harbingers of impending doom, for such divergence often results in distorted perception and miscommunication, wherein the exchange of ideas become embroiled in the stratagems of warped belief systems. Ultimately, this culminates in the unravelling of the very beads, that once composed a harmonious chain of a sound and healthy relationship.
Unhealthy relationships possess an innate capacity to create the deepest of voids, a vat of boiling chasm congealed with brooding negativity, reeking of ominous instability. In such toxic dynamics, one partner often seeks to control and belittle the other, a recurring pattern often identified as narcissistic abuse. Here, emotional quadrants are mercilessly violated, and the essential tenets of active listening and empathy are diluted, even vilified, within an environment that’s saturated with entitlement and grandiosity on the part of the abuser (men/women) leaving the victim psychologically compromised and ensnared in a relentless cycle of manipulation and mental ruin; making one question one’s sanity.
Why do men and women so often comply with the whims and fancies of their demanding partners, even when certain behavioural patterns emerge as red flags early in the relationship? Is it genuinely difficult to discern unacceptable behaviour at the outset, or does one become blinded by the abuser’s over-generosity, and superficially appealing traits, beautifully masquerading as love? Should one willingly overlook jealousy, rudeness, toxicity and the claustrophobic environment within a marriage in the guise of love? Or does such a relationship leave the victim so emotionally disparaged that they begin to question their own sanity and their ability to distinguish between right from wrong? Why, then, do individuals continue to live through abusive, neglectful, and emotionally corrosive unions? These were the barrage of questions that reverberated through my mind while reading this harrowing, suffocating narrative of a woman inhumanely bound to a broken, deteriorating marriage; one that would eventually culminate in divorce.
Sarah Manguso chronicles the journey of Jane, a fictional character who dreams of becoming an accomplished writer, lives unapologetically on her own terms, and regards marriage as a trivial institution, with no desire for children. A chance encounter with John, a charismatic and seductive film maker, evolves into a complicated relationship, (seemingly marked by compatibility), which eventually culminates in marriage, despite Jane’s initial reservations toward such societal conventions. Applying for an artist’s fellowship program in Greece marks an inflection point in their marital trajectory, bringing in an undulating phase ordained with jealousy, a burning cauldron of insecurities, and unresolved questions of personal accountability, particularly when John fails to secure the fellowship program, in contrast to the skilful and talented Jane.
Simmering beneath John’s growing lack of responsibility lies an inert yet insidious desire to own and control Jane, gradually turning her existence to that of his personal assistant and house keeper, rather than an equal partner in marriage. With John being the centre of attention and her own existence and writing taking a backseat, Jane seeks validation of his love through his unduly aggressive behaviour.
Over a decade into the relationship, which involves multiple changes of address solely to accommodate John’s so called ostensibly thriving film making career in California, which ultimately ends in failure and bankruptcy; subjugation emerges as a primal inescapable force. With pregnancy that comes along the way, Jane finds herself ensnared in a web of subservience, now unable to leave the marriage for the sake of the child, praying fervently, clinging to hope for that opportune moment when her relationship with John might finally stabilise. Suffering becomes her new normal, as she is systematically manipulated, emotionally exploited and persistently gas lighted, labelled as neurotic by her husband in a calculated move used to exert control and establish dominance within the relationship.
Marital exploitation and narcissistic abuse, relentlessly fuelled by lies, infidelity, emotional manipulation, wreak havoc in the life of the victim, for such sustained abuse shatters an individual’s self-confidence and erodes their capacity to live a functional life within society, leading to consequences and psychological damage that transcend gender disparities. I have witnessed, first-hand, some of my friends endure unbearable mental agony in disastrous marriages, experiences that left them psychically scarred and in some cases plagued by suicidal thoughts. What these emotionally unstable perpetrators fail to recognise is that it takes years, (often a lifetime) for victims to gather the broken pieces of their existence and begin to reconstruct anything resembling a normal life.
That leaves me questioning: Why does intellect so often recede in the background, and how is it that highly educated intelligent people willingly succumb to emotional and physical abuse at the hands of their partners? Are they so emotionally vulnerable and ruptured that it becomes easy for them to fall prey to narcissistic abuse? Though there’s nothing particularly new in the narrative, it nevertheless brings to fore the insidious malice that silently gnaws at individuals in relationships, this quiet devastation perpetrated under the guise of love, care, duty, not only by parents, but also by siblings, relatives, friends, lovers and partners alike, those whom we’re taught to trust the most.
Through divorce Jane attains a final redemption and a renewed lease of life with her eight-year-old son, opening a new chapter through motherhood. It is, at last, freedom to breathe in peace, and give birth to creativity, far removed from the plaguing monstrosity of dominance, where fear and lies had once enveloped Jane and her child’s existence, impeding their ability to function normally in life.
What I appreciated about the novel is Jane’s quiet acceptance of her own realisations: how she missed the early warning signs, how she felt validated in justifying her husband’s abusive behaviour, and how she clung to the unwavering attachments to the illusions of compatibility, love and marital permanence even though the relationship was fractured right from the very beginning.
What, then, does one call these self-deceptions? Lies, for they are psychologically intricate and profoundly human, born of hope, societal conditioning, emotional dependency and the lingering, unarticulated fears rooted in childhood.