Her Brother's Keeper
(Review) Brother & Sister Enter the Forest by Richard Mirabella
From any vantage, it’s easy to make a few basic observations about the mental health issue typically called “Addiction.” Oftentimes, the person who develops the malady has suffered some sort of trauma. This could include the loss of, or abuse from, a parent or sibling (physical, verbal, or otherwise). It could also include any sort of such issues inflicted from outside the home.
What’s tricky in observing these sorts of challenges is that they aren’t necessarily a one-to-one causal chain. Event X does not necessarily = Addiction. Rather, an array of traits and elements within and outside of the individual interact exponentially to eventually result in the person’s ultimate isolation and self-sacrifice to the substance.
Justin, our protagonist, understands this acutely. A sober alcoholic in recovery, he’d been living for some time in a group home with others who struggled with similar issues. But after an accident well outside of his control, his instinct kicks in and instead of turning to self destruction, he goes straight to his sister Willa’s apartment.
So begins this marvel of a novel Brother & Sister Enter the Forest by Richard Mirabella (Catapult). Set in a constellation of tiny towns somewhere in rural New York, this exquisitely rendered work fluctuates between the perspectives of our two siblings. The magic of this is that, addiction narrative though the novel may be, we see at least as much about how Willa struggles to live a difficult life with the additional strain of her brother’s challenges — a struggle she processes by creating miniature dioramas, often depicting scenes from the siblings’ childhood. It’s through this larger lens of the tense interaction between the two that Justin’s woes are contextualized and writ larger to show the whole of the scenario — which is Willa’s as much as his own.
Mirabella represents these “woods” with precision. His prose is concise, and tender without a trace of the maudlin. As he depicts the violent realities surrounding a young man’s experience of homosexuality in a rural area, he keeps our eyes locked on the facts — masterfully photographing small details. Because of this artistry, he is able to make his own diorama of stills, and allows us to starkly observe the realities of life with an emphasis on humanity.
It’s hard to watch. But it’s incredibly rewarding to read.