Banishing Verona

By Margot Livesey

Henry Holt, 321 pages, $33.95

Verona MacIntyre, the elusive heroine of Margot Livesey's fifth novel, is the sort of woman who can stop clocks. Every time she tries to wear a wristwatch, it winds up going "haywire" after just a few days. No one knows for certain why this happens. "The watchmaker I went to had some mad theory about personal electricity" is the best explanation that she can muster.

It is a hypothesis Zeke Cafarelli would certainly endorse. From the moment he meets Verona, the lonely, troubled house painter wants to stick to her like iron filings to a powerful magnet. His subsequent pursuit of her forms the backbone of this wise if scattered novel, launching him from emotional isolation into the bustling, dangerous world he has for so long avoided.

They meet when the very pregnant Verona shows up at the London house Zeke is painting, claiming to be the niece of its absent owners. Sparks fly and, by day's end, the two are sleeping together in the master bedroom. Verona then disappears without a trace. It turns out she is not related the house's owners after all, but is rather on the run from two thuggish loan sharks who want to get their hands on her brother. As she tries to keep one step ahead of them, Zeke sets out after her on a wild-goose chase that takes him to Boston and back again. Although a friend warns him that the object of his desire is probably crazy, Zeke knows better. "Not crazy, thought Zeke. Mysterious. And what is the point of mystery if not to lead us into new places?"

Livesey broadens this offbeat romance by expertly depicting the web of relationships entangling the two fledgling lovers. Zeke, who suffers from a form of autism known as Asperger's syndrome, is burdened by overprotective parents who want him to one day take over their modest grocery store. This pressure assumes added intensity when Zeke's father suffers a mild heart attack and his mother discloses that she is having an affair. Verona, for her part, not only has to prepare for her forthcoming child, but must also mother her errant sibling Henry, whose hyperactive capitalist ambitions and decided lack of conscience keep him in a constant state of crisis.

It is when the novel illuminates this array of well-drawn characters that it truly shines. Livesey has always possessed a remarkable talent for creating quirky, desperate people, and Banishing Verona proves no exception. Verona is an appealing heroine, an independent, husky-voiced radio talk-show hostess who is very good at understanding the problems of others while simultaneously neglecting her own. The charmingly sociopathic Henry is capable of perpetrating all sorts of thoughtless acts, including robbing Verona of her inheritance, without becoming altogether odious. Zeke's parents are also engaging, especially his father Don, who winds up with only a pet parrot to confide in as he come to terms with a failing heart and a dying marriage.

The novel's best character is Zeke, who maintains his delicate grip on reality by compulsively synchronizing clocks, counting pavement cracks and enumerating the branches on neighbourhood trees. He proves a true innocent abroad during his impulsive trip to Boston, buffeted but never sunk by the American tempest. What keeps him above water, of course, is love: "He understood that his longing for Verona had carried him to a new place, still at sea but with a rock to cling to."

Sufferers of Asperger's syndrome have particular trouble with social and communication skills, and therefore tend to focus obsessively on one thing at a time. While this might be a problem if the sufferer wants to teach Kindergarten or sparkle at a cocktail party, it also makes him uniquely suited to be a doting lover. Livesey's triumph here is to show how disease can be turned into strength under love's curative hand.

Banishing Verona's sole flaw is its wayward narrative. Given the promise of its central romance, it is disappointing that the author chose to structure her plot so haphazardly. The sense of peril surrounding Verona, so carefully established in the opening pages, gradually fizzles out as her pursuers turn out to be more minnow than shark. Equally damaging is Livesey's curious inclusion of a 20-page excerpt from the diary of Verona's grandfather, at the very moment when the story should be revving up a gear. Most baffling, however, is Livesey's decision to have Zeke and Verona spend practically no time together during the course of the novel. After that strong initial jolt of electricity she provided the lovers, it is a shame that she did not give them a few more connections.

Stephen Amidon is the author of Human Capital. He lives in Massachusetts.