British author and documentary-maker Saira Shah has based The Mouseproof Kitchen on first-hand experience and I think that's why it works. She and her husband have a daughter with severe cerebral palsy whom they love deeply. They have also, understandably, struggled to adjust to how she has affected their lives.
When she was born, they were planning to move to rural France, but those plans were thrown into doubt by the devastating news their daughter would never walk, talk or hold her head up unaided. Showing incredible pluck, they decided to go for it, even though they would be living without access to support services, a long way from family, and two hours from the nearest hospital.
This recipe for potential disaster (and stress), forms the basis of The Mouseproof Kitchen. The protagonists, English couple Anna and Tobias, discover their daughter Freya has been born with profound disabilities. Shellshocked, they flounder for a few months before deciding to resurrect a sidelined plan to move to France.
They buy a rundown house on a large piece of land in the Languedoc. I did wonder why anyone in their situation would do this. Tobias plans to write music for films from home, while Anna dreams of running a cooking school. Neither of them seem to grasp how hard it will be to look after Freya so far from medical support.
The impracticalities soon become evident, especially when Freya starts to have regular fits. On top of their fears about her health, the house is crumbling round them, there's no regular water supply, and Anna cannot banish rodents from the kitchen, which also sprouts mildew as soon as she cleans it off. Tobias' film work starts to dry up and Anna's cooking school never eventuates. As Freya gets worse, the tension ratchets up, especially as Anna and Tobias have never been on the same page about keeping her.
Sounds grim, but Shah balances the sadness and chaos with delightful characters and scenes of enticing rustic charm, with plenty of gardening and cooking thrown in. A rural village in the Languedoc is the perfect setting for eccentric characters and inscrutable neighbours who turn out to be entertaining sideshows and/or saviours when help is needed. In addition, the house comes with a resident oddball, Lizzie, a hippy/new age lost soul who throws spanners into an already shambolic household. The arrival of Anna's mother destabilises things further, given her talent for tactless remarks, but she, like the other peripheral characters, adds a bit of zest and occasional humour.
There are some brutally honest, confronting passages in this book. Given the elements of oil and water that co-exist in the novel, it's surprising that it works, but it does. The mice might escape, but this reader was captured.
- Caroline Hunter is an ODT subeditor.
