Madness Personified

At age 28, Ronnie is going back to school, to finish the degree she never earned and make a new start. As the lead character in Rebecca Cook’s novel Click, she does not undertake this journey alone. A large black crow flutters about the room or leaves to fly around the neighborhood and across the corn fields of Nebraska, a distant geography from Ronnie’s native Chicago. The bird always returns to perch on furniture, or on the shoulder of Ronnie’s husband Boyd (bird?).

The image is perfect and neat, but for one inconvenient fact. Boyd has been dead for three years. Despite their incorporeal nature, both Boyd and the crow are constants in Ronnie’s life. Boyd follows her around, whispers in her ear, briefly leaves on business trips, and appears in the apartment, even the bedroom, of her new boyfriend. When not flying about aimlessly, the bird flutters its wings inside her rib cage, or flies feet first at persons with whom she has unpleasant exchanges. Sometimes it carries her off to other places, and sometimes she flies with the bird. More than a symbol of her affliction, the bird is its personification.

The reader may hope against hope that Ronnie will pull through this crises, but she seems to unravel, even as the plot tightens and wraps itself up. As the story progresses toward an ending which appears to be inevitable, Ronnie is clearly loosing ground. The final scene manages to be both surprising and yet expected, which makes for a rewarding finish.

Some readers may find the strong language and frankly sexual encounters off putting, but these elements give the characters a three dimensional quality which is refreshing in comparison to the flatness of some modern fiction. The book is both compelling and unforgettable.