Lillian Heckler Portfolio

september 2022

In the Christian church, christenings mark the beginning of a journey with faith. They celebrate the birth of a new soul, free from sin and prepared to embark on a life surrounded by God. In the novel Commonwealth, by Ann Patchett, christenings take on a different meaning. Instead of being a symbol of faith, they present the perfect opportunity for married men and women to dip into the unfaithful side. 

On the night of Frances Keating’s christening party, Bert Cousins arrives at the doorstep of Fix and Beverly Keating’s home. He was not invited to the event but is desperate to escape his nagging children and exhausted wife, so he presents Fix with a bottle of gin and welcomes himself inside. Within hours, the night becomes a booze-filled celebration of adultery, culminating in a kiss shared between Beverly and Bert in the newly-christened nursery.

The kiss prompts the unraveling of two families, beginning with divorce and the formation of the dysfunctional Keating-Cousins household and followed by summer hijinks in Virginia that have enduring, irreversible effects. As the title suggests, the characters create a commonwealth, standing with one another for the greater good, though they “looked more like a day camp than a family, random children dropped off on the same curb.” They unite to navigate a new life together, cover up a tragic loss, and end the generational trauma that plagues both family lines. 

The story’s focus is mainly on Frances’s life and experiences as a twenty-year-old law-school-drop-out-turned-cocktail-waitress. Her job and interest in books lead her into the lap of author Leon Posen, “somewhere in the dark woods past 50,” who treats her as his muse and, later, his house girlfriend. “Their relationship…was built on admiration and mutual disbelief,” emphasizing the couple’s difference in age, as well as Franny’s previous status as his fan. Leon is so enamored with her that he writes a story about her traumatic childhood–though he convinces Franny that it isn’t about her at all–and profits immensely from it.

A new depth can be brought to Leo when understanding that much of Commonwealth exists in Patchett’s life. She describes the novel as her most personal, explaining that she infused her childhood memories of divorce and mixed-family summers into the Keating-Cousins story. In her uncomplicated, image-dense prose, Patchett explores the ownership of family stories and the ethics behind sharing them without permission, ironically using herself as an example. 

Despite the story orbiting around Frances and the effects of her poor choices in men, Patchett does not turn her back on the development of the other characters. Even Cal, with whom we spend the least amount of time, is a vivid painting of a boy who looks at his stepmother “as if it were some weird coincidence that his name was Cal and this complete stranger had said something to someone who was also named Cal.” Each child is given a rich backstory and quirks without feeling out of place from the rest of the storyline, a balancing act that Patchett performs with ease. 

The fluid and rather unassuming nature of Patchett’s writing creates a relatable family dynamic with seemingly little effort. Patchett illustrates an environment that allows the reader to sink so deeply into Virginia summers that they can feel the “summer air hot and solid in [their] lungs,” and she treats New York City, Chicago, Southern California, Switzerland, and Amagansett with the same grace. She makes it nearly impossible not to come back to reabsorb the character dynamics and settings–someone who reads this novel once will be sure to make it an annual read (at least). 

Patchett does not preach or insist on creating a profound moral lesson for the reader to walk away with. Instead, she grants the reader space to absorb and understand the consequences of the characters’ actions simply: by providing them with no real resolution. Life goes on in Commonwealth as in real life: not with a bang, but with a laugh from the backseat.