No Safe Place
Mary-Rose MacColl
Allen and Unwin, 1996. 173pp., $14.95
Reviewed by Tony Smith
It is an understatement to say that Adele Lanois has a problem. She has lots. Her mother appears in daytime visions. Her father worries about her, advises her, though she's 30. When he dies suddenly, his advice retrospectively seems like a cry for help.
Adele has low self-esteem, little confidence, lives in Melbourne on burgers and Coke and, to cap it all, is a university bureaucrat.
MacColl does not think Adele has problems enough, for she writes her into the hot seat at the head of an inquiry into allegations of sexual misconduct by a counsellor. The case is complex. MacColl's brief sentences, like five-second TV grabs, suit her purpose. Justice at Walters University is like everything at any university in the '90s — overstretched, underfinanced, lately over-Amanda-ed.
Why would 20-year-old Jane Kidman make allegations against middle-aged Gareth Ford? Just because she needs therapy enough to admit it? Or is it something more sinister? Adele doesn't know. Sometimes. Then she does for a while. She thinks. Then changes her mind. It's all prejudice anyway.
Meanwhile, Adele experiences some of the very uncertainty of relationships she needs to understand. She wonders about coded messages. When they meet, Gareth Ford's physical presence is imposing, sometimes impressing, sometimes oppressive. The vice-chancellor moves as if to grab her arm, tells her that only he and she understand. She wants to know "what we understand, but I think I should already know". She will not betray her ignorance by asking when others think that she already knows. It's the code. Silence.
Did Jane and Gareth have sex? Where is the line which separates sexual conduct from other physical or even non-physical coupling? Is a rule such as "no involvement with students or clients" a sufficient guide to professional ethics?
Adele has the interests of the university at heart. Jane has been damaged, Gareth could be guilty, but the institution, that fleshless concept, must be exonerated. This is ex-lawyer Adele's brief. While others may think that no publicity is bad, she must find a way to close the ranks of the academy.
But Adele has a secret. She does not know who she is. How can she tell when others are telling the truth? The inquiry rushes towards tragedy and heavy costs for all involved. There is no resolution. Whatever the finding, the innocent suffer.
At times the clipped sentences knit together well. Some chapters are satisfying, but overall the book leaves the reader feeling like Adele. Unsure. Lacking details. Not wanting to ask.
Depending on how you like your prose, you might regard this style as poetically appropriate or just plain tiresome. The judges of the "Australian/Vogel" young novelists' award tend to favour a raw, underdone style. MacColl's work epitomises brevity and was short-listed in 1995.
And while the plot raises questions about some hot issues, there are so many variables that the focus is scattered. Perhaps betrayal of trust and responsibility inevitably leads to the kind of instability personified by Adele Lanois. Or perhaps it happens only to those who are already unstable.
No Safe Place does not attempt to defend feminism against recent accusations — from supposed friends as well as enemies — that it has spoiled courtship. But it does point the finger at some other culprits. Sexuality had a hand in creating psychoanalysis, and in return the psychoanalyst may have destroyed sexuality. Should anything be needed, this is the perfect book to drive psychoanalysts insane. Unfortunately, it offers little hope to their victims. n