Mavis Gallant is one of the most prolific short story writers of the later half of the 20th century–one of only a few to have reached a century of works appearing in The New Yorker. And I had never heard of her. Once again, there. is. so. much. to. read.
Her novella, A Fairly Good Time, was published in 1970; the edition I have is paired with a short story from 1959, Green Water, Green Sky. Both may be technically novellas? Whatever–Green Water, Green Sky is much shorter.
A Fairly Good Time is a non-linear, fragmented account where the protagonist navigates an expatriate life (she was raised in Canada, now lives in France) full of isolation, social awkwardness, and eventual self-acceptance. It’s moving, and insightful, and the two main tragedies of the work (abandonment by her husband and her mother’s death) are moving, more for how she processes and slowly integrates them than the events themselves.
This is what makes A Fairly Good Time work for me: it is truly a novella of natural growth, and she ends the story the same essential person, but older, more whole, and perhaps even a little wiser. Along the way there are friendships, some romance, and much time wrestling with the eternal challenge of why did this happen, but it all moves without getting too emotionally stuck or repetitive: even when she makes a choice that potentially horrifies the reader, it’s clear how that choice works for her. Which is the most a writer can accomplish, in some ways.
Green Water, Green Sky is as affecting, but far less optimistic in its end, tracing (again in a non-linear, episodic way) the travels in Europe of an American mother and daughter. Their relationship is a fraught one, and the daughter suffers greatly from her mother’s need to control her as well as her own mental health issues.
Perhaps most interestingly, as the daughter’s struggles intensify, her ability to understand and name the world around her disintegrates as well, highlighting a link between language, experience, and mental health that was thought-provoking, and skillfully drawn, and seems incredibly prescient for a story published in the late 1950s.
Both are recommended, although this type of writing–personal, episodic, more focused on experience than plot–needs to appeal for them to be truly impactful.