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Selah Saterstrom is a child of the South, and still lives in North Carolina. While The Pink Institution is her first novel, she has also edited an anthology of poetry and prose written by at-risk teenagers -- a project that seems to be in harmony with her own work.
This is not a happy book. In fact, it is almost certainly the most overwhelming and relentless disturbing and depressing book I have ever read -- and you should see my library! (Editor's note: Bob's tastes tend towards works from Russian literature so severe in tone that they make Crime and Punishment look like beach reading.) There is only one uplifting moment, which is very welcome when it comes, as it's the only point that offers any hint of a reprieve from the almost claustrophobically oppressive bleakness, but in retrospect it seems somewhat artificial in the context of the whole work. If Saterstrom was shooting to write something dark, she succeeded in spades. Not that that's a bad thing...but if you're looking for an uplifting story, this is not the book for you.
The Pink Institution follows the women of a dysfunctional Southern family through four generations: through Abella, Azalea and Aza to the present. "Dysfunctional" doesn't really do these poor people justice, though; the women are physically, emotionally, sexually and psychologically abused. In fact, if you can think of any type of abuse, it's probably in here somewhere. A lot. Over and over and over again. Oh, and there's alcoholism, murder, suicidal tendencies, ghosts (!) and some other good stuff thrown in to boot.
The book is divided into five larger sections, each split into smaller segments that are so small -- usually only a page or two -- that I hesitate to call them chapters. Each of these small segments presents an extraordinarily vivid scene (the first several of these are even titled "Tableaux"). It is through these tableaux and through the interwoven lists, photos, and snippets of historical documents that the story is told.
The novel's graphic layout is striking. The opening section begins most of its scenes with selections from the Program Guide for the Confederate Ball of 1938. In keeping with the historical document concept, the text is presented as if it is a literal transcription from an ancient, dilapidated text found in an attic somewhere, complete with spaces where the ravages of time have rendered words and punctuation illegible. It's a bit disconcerting at the beginning, but once you make it past the first few pages, you'll quickly get the hang of reading what initially seems like a rather disjointed tale. As the book moves on and the scenes approach more recent times, this style is gradually left behind in favor of more typical prose. There are also historical (or at least historical-looking) photos placed at strategical points throughout the book.
The second section interweaves three lists: "Childhood Objects", "Maidenhood Objects" and "Motherhood Objects". These lists provide the headings and subjects of each of the subsequent scenes, which follow the sad tales of Azalea and Aza. After a brief and somewhat startling interlude consisting of a few poems and a prayer, the story moves on to the present generation. The narrative takes on an almost surreal note as the consequences of such an incredible accumulation of abuse is related in the first person. This is no longer a mere documentation of history, but an extraordinary personal revelation of the psychological trauma of the very damaged individual who has been left in the wake of such overwhelming circumstances.
The Pink Institution contains some fine moments. Unfortunately, in general, the situations it portrays are far too over the top for my taste. Such a constant diet of shocking circumstances can quickly numb a reader's sensibilities, and the more I think about how the author manipulates her audience with that false-feeling "positive moment" I mentioned earlier, the more irked I get. However, I have to salute Saterstrom for -- literally -- putting her money where her mouth is: a portion of The Pink Institution's proceeds go to a charity for abused and neglected children.
-- Robert E. Thomas
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About the Publisher:
Coffee House Press is an award-winning nonprofit literary publisher dedicated to innovation in the craft of writing and preservation of the tradition of book arts. Coffee House produces books that present the dreams and ambitions of people who have been underrepresented in published literature, books that shape our national consciousness while strengthening a larger sense of community.
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