”she was . . . afraid that if she spoke her voice would betray her nervousness, the sensation of everything falling away.”

“this journey was a requiem. Like so many other things that he had held on to too long, he would let it go and try to step into the future, if not with enthusiasm then with less of his instinctive reluctance and fear.”

“nothing . . . could ever be gauged or bound in a fixity of time. . . . something was always hidden, always camouflaged so that the centre couldn’t be fully known or commandeered, couldn’t be set in stone, [and was] always changing.”

“he remembered the night from childhood when they had shone their torches across the back gardens [. They] had no fluent coded message but . . . every flickering stutter broke the silent bonds of loneliness.”

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In The Light of Amsterdam, David Park explores the losses and challenges of middle age through three different characters who are unknown to each other. He introduces them and their circumstances just before each takes the same Friday flight from Belfast to Amsterdam, then follows them in that city as they come to terms with their individual situations. The novel ends with the characters’ return to Belfast on Sunday, by which time transformative experiences will have occurred, and two of the three will have some acquaintance with each other.

Alan, an instructor at an art college, is in his early 50s. Things aren’t going well for him on the work front. His colleague Stan Stenson—once a friend and now a paper-shuffling administrator, a sorter of “useless, bureaucratic flotsam and jetsam”—calls him into his office one day to remind him that education is no longer a “secret garden” but a service industry subject to measurement, analysis, and accountability. According to Stan, there have been complaints: old-school Alan isn’t spending enough time nurturing students and is too dismissive of their creative efforts. Furthermore, he’s had nothing published of late, nor has he held a show for years. Perhaps not surprisingly, matters are even worse in Alan’s personal life. After an impulsive sexual encounter so brief and so meaningless to him that it barely qualifies as a one-night stand or a fling, he has recently divorced from his wife of many years and is living alone in an unsatisfactory flat above a flower shop.

As the novel opens, Alan is asked by his ex-wife to take charge of their troubled 16-year-old son on the weekend she plans to fly to Spain with her new lover—the inflated, insufferable Gordon. Their son, Jack, with his dyed-black hair and equally dark clothes and mood, has been having problems at school. He’s taken to self-harm (cutting) and speaks in monosyllables. With earbuds perpetually in place to ensure a steady feed of death metal and insulate him against parental censure, Jack has apparently opted for the infuriating role of selective mute. As the guilty party apparently singlehandedly responsible for the demise of the marriage, Alan cannot decline his wife’s request to take their son for the weekend. He adjusts his long-standing plans to travel to Amsterdam to see Bob Dylan in concert to include his son, by purchasing costly second airline and concert tickets for Jack. It remains to be seen if the boy will condescend to speak to Alan over this weekend in Amsterdam, never mind attend a concert given by an aged rock legend.

Karen, unlike the other solidly middle-class characters in the novel, has struggled to earn enough money to support herself and her child. Three-months into her teenaged pregnancy, she had been abandoned by her boyfriend. Now in her early 40s, she has worked two jobs—cleaning offices and a nursing home—for years. She singlehandedly raised her daughter, scrimping and saving—with no support, financial or otherwise, from her child’s father— and has kept the girl outfitted and accessorized. Perhaps that was a mistake, Karen now realizes, for Shannon is self-absorbed, “value[s] nothing but appearances”, and is oblivious to her mother’s sacrifices. Shannon is about to be married, and, as if the wedding isn’t expense enough, there is a hen party in Amsterdam, which Karen has been pressed into attending. The journey is the first Karen will ever make by airplane, a prospect that terrifies her. Once in Amsterdam, she will be “shaken by the realisation that there was part of her own child that was unknown and secretive”, that Shannon is possessed of “an independent life” to which Karen is “only allowed partial access.”

Marion is the eldest of Park’s three characters. Likely in her early sixties, she and Richard, her husband, have operated a successful gardening centre for many years. Of late, Marion has observed and been unsettled by what she regards her still handsome and charming husband’s flirtatiousness with the attractive young Polish women who work at the plant nursery. Richard has also recently given Marion the pricey gift of a membership at an upscale fitness club, which has only confirmed her sense of inadequacy. It seems that Richard is trying to tell her that she’s let herself go. Always aware of her plainness, she feels she is no longer “enough” for him. Both will be surprised by what they learn during their weekend getaway to Amsterdam.

Slightly elegiac and melancholic in tone, The Light of Amsterdam is a beautiful, quietly written book that focuses on the changes of midlife. The youthful dreams have fallen away, painful errors have been made, but the capacity to change and the ability to appreciate the beauty of life and their imperfect connections with others remain. The epigraph with which E.M Forster began Howards End could be equally well applied here. ( )

Amsterdam is one of those magical cities that everyone I know has loved when they’ve visited. Sadly, I’ve never been, so this novel about the city peaked my interest. I loved the concept for The Light of Amsterdam by award-winning Irish author David Park, so I knew I had to read it and share it with you. This is a literary work in the finest storytelling tradition. Read the rest of my review at http://popcornreads.com/?p=5095 ( )

How does a painter paint light? Why would you admire a painting by Vermeer and despise The Night Watch by Rembrandt, visiting the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam? It’s December, Christmas approaching and three different families set off for a weekend to the Dutch capital. Problems at home, whether in the US or in Ireland, are layered, just as a painting and the main characters may discover a new perspective, new inspiration and light. A father struggles with his recent divorce and getting along with his teenage son. What should his position be on musical tastes, cannabis usage and a proposal to see the local red light district? A mother that’s being accused of stealing a bracelet, actually gives it away to her only daughter to express her love. She also struggles to get a healthy relationship with her daughter (again). Dressed as Indians on a hen party with girlfriends: how far will you go to bridge troubled waters? Third, there’s a husband that treats his wife to a birthday weekend away, and by doing so, contributing to uncertainties about desires, motherhood and age.
Against the background of the parks, museums, canals, restaurants, bars and hotel rooms our beloved Amsterdam, the different storylines evolve and challenges the reader to dig into life’s complexities. I had difficulties at the start of this novel to get into the story. Opening at the fallen football star’s funeral, the novel concludes at a disappointing Bob Dylan concert in Amsterdam. The story has aftermaths, flash backs, past meets presents and overcoming comedowns and disappointments. ( )