Much to be learned from Follett’s ‘Instructor’

Beth Follett has published writing in various forms, as well as founded Pedlar Press, known for its high quality, curated releases. “Instructor” is her second novel. It starts in the summer of 1988. Ydessa Bloom is a young woman pursuing a successful career in real estate when her husband, Roger Campbell, “an astonishingly handsome man,” and a pilot, is killed when his plane pitches into Baptiste Lake. This sudden, shocking cleavage of her life into such a stark before and after sees her half fleeing, half pulled to the accident scene.

She checks into the Sword Inn where the receptionist, Teresa, recommends a cottage rental from her friend, Barri. On the way there she meets, in fact she almost runs over, Henry Rattle. His mother has died, and his distracted father is letting the boy run feral. Reaching her destination, she initially commits to renting for two weeks. But Barri immediately suspects her stay will be much longer.

Ydessa seeks isolation, fueled by scotch and accompanied only by Wilson, her cat. She is fixed on the idea of finding the exact spot where the plane sliced into the water. But she can’t accomplish even that small quest by herself, and in any case people won’t leave her alone. Not Barri with her gentle inviting suggestions (supper, yoga), Henry who sees in her refractions of his lost mother, her parents Rose and Sam convinced she’s in wilderness peril, Roger’s mother Alicia distraught in New York and balking against funeral arrangements, or her boss Mark demanding that if she can’t came back right now she must commit to returning to the office soon. At times they’re not just on her phone but on her doorstep:

“In the Bancroft liquor store the absence of pink rosé is irrefutable evidence of how rural people everywhere are unhinged … And so it was: a catered party, no matter that the guests, including Alicia, numbered only five, no matter that one was a despondent nine-year-old boy.”

Follett’s storytelling is intensely Impressionistic, and unfolds through several perspectives, including one in the second person. The emotional and physical environment is fully explored:

“Today you pass through the narrows toward the site where the Cessna fell. You say nothing. In the shallows tall reeds stand quiet, their long shadows undulating like an exquisite dream of laughter. A school of bass flashes in the cool water below, flash, dart, submerge, re-emerge … The world below the surface is everywhere instinctual, quick and light. With dexterity you manage the boat, which now stirs long reeds in its easy slide above the loose bluegrey patterns waving over the pebbled lake bottom. In the slide, a shift, and Ydessa’s fear becomes unmanageable, no longer a stone she can hold in her palm. You sense the knots tighten within her. The world is becoming too small, the light is hardening.”

The expansive settings arc from Northern Ontario to Manhattan. Each is steeped in detail. Nevertheless this is often a narrative of the interior, of feeling, perception, and reaction. Events — all set in pinwheeling motion by a sudden, spectacular death — are processed, questioned, approached, and explored from different angles. The accident weaves into a fabric that connects and will interlace the main characters over decades, stitching them together in grief and reconciliation.

Not coincidentally for the book’s tone, the novel is deeply interested in Vipassana meditation. Teresa is also a teacher, and with Barri’s urging Ydessa starts attending her classes:

“What you are seeking is spaciousness. Breathe into the space the pose creates. When you breathe, you create new space, new awareness in the body, and as new space is created, old grooves and habits of thought burn away. You are de-structuring and you are restructuring, both simultaneously. We chastise ourselves: no longer flexible, no longer beautiful, no longer wily, just old women fit for the trash heap. Never enough of a woman, we say, and now it’s too late. By the time we get to middle age, most of us want to become less of a child, shuddering, overwhelmed with life’s difficulties. I’ve done some work, but I can’t teach you how. Not really. All I can do is share with you the postures of yoga.”

An instructor can be a tutor, advisor, coach, or guru. And life of course is the truest teacher. How to tackle the strife, loss — and affection, and concern — thrown in our paths. Even when the way, as Ydessa’s is, is a tangled and ranging one.