Métis author Katherena Vermette’s debut novel The Break is one of the most impactful contemporary novels that I have recently read. The book forces me to confront one of my worst fears as a mother, that a child could be brutally hurt. Utilizing shifting narratives, this novel approaches a sensitive topic with the right tone and sensitivity to express how a family meets the crisis head on with strength and resilience.
The Break unravels as thirteen year-old Emily is viciously attacked. The title page carries a trigger warning, stating this book is about recovering and healing from violence, and it contains scenes of sexual and physical violence, and depictions of vicarious trauma. I wish to make it clear upfront so that prospective readers could judge whether this book is right for you. Emotion takes over this reading. I have been thinking a lot about raising my daughter to be safe, strong, loved, and well. What I most admire about this novel is how humanely it treats such a crisis. To categorize it as crime novel would not do this book justice, for it would pathologize the perpetrator to be less than a person; it could also push towards the dangerous edge of finding fault in the victim. Neither does issue fiction fit the bill, for it would marginalize the people involved in the tragedy as the other and make readers onlookers coolly inspecting a distant problem, and fail to contextualize an event as a social risk closer than we would like to admit.
The book opens with the calm before the storm – a dreamy description of a pristine, snowy landscape before the crime took place. Through the eyes of the witness, Stella sets the tone of quiet observation and looming premonition. The temporary calm is at once disrupted as readers are brought into Stella’s home when she gives a witness report to two police officers with conflicting approaches, followed by how each member of the family copes with the trauma.
This post will highlight significant moments and responses of key characters to show how the novel humanely tells the story of a family holding up each other in critical times.
Dismissal: Officer Christie
The seasoned white officer leading the case shows every reluctance to take the witness seriously. First brushing it off as another usual drunk fight, his ingrained prejudice against the witness of Métis descent, deemed emotionally unstable and living in a bad neighbourhood obstruct him from making a fair investigation.
"‘It was just a fxxxing gang fight,’ Christie says, unconcerned, pulling the laptop on its metal pivot and peering into the screen. ‘Crazy dame. I feel for that guy.’ (Vermette 68)
Sympathy: Officer Scott
This fresh, Métis officer has a hutch that something significant has happened, but is remaining low-key as the subordinate of the duo. His professional judgement is led by instinct and evokes an intimate memory of his mother living with an abusive spouse.
“He feels sorry for the lady, that’s what it is. He just feels sorry for her. She’s not lying, but what she’s telling doesn’t sound like the truth. Marie always lied when the police came to their house. She’d tell them whatever would get them out to the door fastest. The lady said she would never have called them, but she didn't know what else to do. And she was still emotional after she waited for hours, for four hours, and she kept talking even after it was obvious they didn’t believe her. There’s something to that, he thinks. There must be.” (Vermette 78)
Oblivion: Jeff, husband of witness
Alarmed by the presence of the police in his home after he returns from his late night shift, Jeff is incredulous when the limited evidence is against her wife’s claim. He means well to assuage his wife in shock, but does not realize the severity of the matter.
“'They know what they’re talking about, Stella. And I mean,’ he pauses again, really trying. He sits down beside her, looks her right in the eye. ‘You know, Stella, maybe you did, like, dream parts of it?’ He’s talking in questions now too. ‘ You haven’t been sleeping very well with all Adam’s fussing and teething, right?’ Stella gets up, fuming. She grabs all the stupid coffee cups and takes them to the kitchen, throws them in the sink and starts scrubbing. She puts them in the drying rack and starts wiping the counter. Jeff just sits at the table, waiting for her to talk. ‘I’m not crazy,’ she says finally. ‘I don't think you’re… No one said that. I just think, maybe.’ He yawns. She can tell he doesn’t mean to but he does. It is so late it’s early. She had waited for hours for the police to come. Waited shaking, thinking they would come at any moment. She was unable to stop cleaning or crying. She should have called her Kookom then. She would’ve been asleep, but she still would’ve answered. Or Aunty Cher, she would’ve been up. Aunty Cher would’ve listened. She probably would’ve come over, made the coffee, yelled at the cops when they started acting like they didn’t believe her. But Stella didn’t do any of that.” (Vermette 15)
Spring to Action: Paulina, mother
Adrenaline rushes through the mother when she finds out her daughter being harmed. She braces for every possible worst case scenario, only to crash into a much harder reality.
“When Paul hangs up the phone, she doesn’t think, just starts moving. That’s what Paul does when something happens, she just goes. That’s what they all do whenever Kookoo is really sick, or whenever something happens with the kids. They just go, figure out what needs doing and do it, don’t think too much, don’t feel anything, and don’t freak out, just go. Take care of your family. Go.” (Vermette 91)
Stoic Strength: Kookom, greatgrandmother
The matriarch carries the family through crisis after crisis, remains composed and refuses let her heart break in order to keep her family whole.
“When Pete called her, Cheryl had jumped out of bed, pulled the first things she could find, and gone right down to her mom’s apartment. Her mom was already awake but more confused. Cheryl explained in small words once they were in the cab. Bleeding. Okay. Hospital. Okay. The old lady’s face broke then, but only then and only for a moment. Tears ran down her wrinkled face that pinched with unvoiced questions. But her mom was calm once she got there, and even when she looked at little Emily, still as stone, her old-lady face stayed strong. Emily, tiny, tiny, Emily, was just broken.” (Vermette 109)
Unsparing Suspision: Louisa, aunt
Social worker by training, Louisa does not spare any doubt against family suspects as work hardens her judgement.
“’I know you think he did this.’ Paul tries to keep her voice firm. She doesn’t know why she says this, until she does. ‘I don’t think anything, Paul.’ Lou doesn’t look up, just moves her little boy’s sleeping body gently into his snowsuit. ‘No, don’t feel bad. That was the first thing I thought of too.’ She makes a sound that’s like laughing, but not. ‘Well then, we’re both as fxxxed up as each other.’ Her words an exaggerated whisper over Baby’s sleeping head. ‘But he didn’t.’ Paul’s voice shakes and she knows it’s true. ‘No, I know. I don’t think he did it either.’ ‘Someone else did.’ Paul’s words tiptoe across the room. ‘And we will find who did and they will go to jail and never do it again.’ Lou is looking right at her now, that serious look Paul knows so well. She nods back.” (Vermette 189)
Overcome by Guilt: Ziggy, friend
Ziggy who accompanied Emily to the party sinks into guilt and shame for failing to remove her friend from harm’s way.
“I just feel so, so ashamed.’ She says it before she thinks about it, but knows it has been there all along. ‘Ashamed? Why are you ashamed?’ His voice stays low, serious. ‘I dunno,’ she says, retreating. ‘Yeah you do, why are you ashamed?’ He pushed her as only he can. ‘Well, it’s like,’ she says slowly, ‘I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything.’ Her dad goes over to wipe her tear now, and looks at her, right in the eye like he does. ‘What could you have done?’ ‘I dunno,’ she says quietly, trying not to shrug. He keeps looking at her. Why do parents always look at you harder when they’re being serious? 'I know what it feels like to feel shame. It’s the worst feeling. But you have nothing to feel ashamed of. There was nothing you could’ve done.’ ‘I know,’ Ziggy says finally, even if she doesn’t mean it. ‘Emily needs her friend right now, just be her friend. That’s how you get rid of shame, you be there for her. And know there was nothing you could have done.’” (Vermette 213-4)
Connecting the Dots: Stella, witness
Learning that the rape did take place, Stella is sent into waves of depression and shock not only mourning for a child being harmed, but in fact her niece whom she had failed to identify and rescue on scene.
“’Aunty, I have to tell you something.’ Stella says it like a sigh, quickly, before she thinks about it too much. ‘Aunty, I have to tell you I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. I hurt every day and I am so sorry.’ It all comes out faster than Stella can think about it. She’s crying before she knew she would. ‘Shh, what’s up? It’s okay, Stell. What do you have to be sorry for?’ Aunty Cher sits beside her again. ‘It was me. I saw it. I saw it and I didn’t do anything about it. I was too scared. I was so scared.’ Her throat catches over each word. The tears fall. ‘What are you…’ ‘I thought they would attack me, or get me, or my kids. And my baby was crying and then Mattie woke up, and they were so scared. I was afraid, afraid they’d come back. But I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t. I didn’t know it was Emily. I didn’t know. And I am so sorry.’ ‘What? Why?’ ‘I didn’t do anything.’ Her voice wails too loud. Her voice catches and she looks over, but Kookoo doesn’t stir. Mattie watches out of the corner of her eye but pretends not to. ‘About what?’ Aunty Cher just looks. ‘About Emily. About what happened to Emily. I saw it. It was outside my house. I saw it and didn’t do anything but call the cops.’ For the longest moment Stella has ever known, her aunt is silent. Stella can’t look up. Mattie gets up and hugs at her legs. Adam falls asleep. Finally her aunt sighs. ‘Oh Stelly. How? What?’ ‘I should have done more,’ Stella breathes. She stumbles on. ‘I should have gone out there. And yelled and screamed and chased after them. I should have run out and made her get into my house and kept her safe but I just let her go.’ Stella breathes a low cry. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’" (Vermette 268-9)
Before The Break: Emily
The girl under unspeakable brutality heals from violence and trauma with the support of her family.
"Now everything's Before and After. Before, she liked a boy named Clayton and boy bands and social studies. Before, her first kiss was supposed to be the best thing ever. Before, she had Ziggy and it didn't matter that she didn't have any other friend. Before, she hated moving houses and called Pete 'The Sniffer' and thought it was funny. Before, the saddest she ever felt was when her Kookom got sick and her Aunt Lou told her that Kookoo was old and old people had to go to the spirit world one day. Before, that was the most scared Emily had ever been, knowing her Kookom had to go soon." (Vermette 310)
Broken but Strong: The Traverse Family
The family comes together to lift each other up.
"They are all so gentle with Emily now. It is as if she wears a shell, something protective and translucent over all of her, something that might break at any moment. Cheryl tries to sound normal with her, tries to be normal, but she's still sad, shaken, and enraged every time she looks at her so-young baby. Every time she feels her pain there." (Vermette 342)
The Break is a powerful and important contemporary novel. I hope this post makes its point to reject the pigeon hole of crime fiction or issue novel, and places this title as a contemporary novel, as is. Sexual assault, sadly, is not an uncommon topic in fiction. No words should make light of this matter, nor could any words undo the harm. Vermette’s deft treatment gives weight to each person’s strength as well as their collective healing power. This book looks right into trauma not as a singular event, but of multiple layers across generations and into the flaws of the social system, which will be discussed in greater detail in the post that follows. This week, though, presents a village holding each other up when a crisis hit. Let’s end with Kookom’s parting wish for the family:
"We fly fast, quick as a current. I think of my other girls, sweet Stella, Louisa, Paulina, poor, poor Emily, and strong Jake, and those lovely babies, but something in me knows they will be okay. They have each other. And as long as they hold on to each other, they will always be okay." (Vermette 337)