Summer Wife, Summer Life: That's the Way the Cookie Humbles

When I hear Montauk, I think low-rent old-timey Hamptons.  Also, Pepperidge Farm cookies.  Which makes me wonder, why is Pepperidge Farm a farm and not a bakery?  I guess I had some preconceived notions when I picked up Nicola Harrison's novel Montauk, not all of them relevant.  But I digress.

Set in 1938, Montauk is the story of society matron Beatrice Bordeaux and her turning point of a summer.  At twenty-seven, she longs for the life she imagines everyone else to be living, i.e. a fairy tale marriage with a white picket fence and 2.5 children.  But her husband Harry has no interest in her or in starting a family, preferring to remain in New York City during most of their summer-long Montauk stay.  That leaves her to navigate the resort's female-dominated social scene on her own, an often boring and treacherous prospect.  Although most of the women are awful, Bea manages to bond with Dolly, a glamorous hat designer with a mind of her own and Elizabeth, a salt-of-the-earth washerwoman initially suspicious of Bea's goodwill.  Yet Elizabeth learns to trust Bea, introducing her to a part of Montauk unspoiled by old money and new construction, a charming treasure chest of a place where flowers and emotions are allowed to run wild. 

Disgusted by the cruelty that rules the rich -- both in the way they treat the help and each other -- Bea is entranced by the seemingly self-contained universe of the "real" island.  Before she knows it, she's doing things she never dreamed possible, from writing a weekly newspaper column to befriending the mysterious lighthouse keeper.  Writing gives her the opportunity to use her voice -- even if under a male pseudonym.  And the lighthouse keeper reveals a link to her past so strong it inspires her to rewrite her future.  As the summer comes to an end, Bea is torn between the life of privilege she married into and the working class world that stirs her roots:

"You can only go so long pretending, acting as if you're someone you're not.  Eventually you must return to who you are, who you were meant to be.  You can stray from it, try on other roles, other personalities, other beliefs, other lives, but eventually it will catch up with you and you have to return to the only person you can be.  As I lay there, eyes shut, hair loose on the sand, feet immersed, it came to me that some people must live their whole lives acting, only returning to themselves in the final moments on their deathbed.  I didn't want to do that." (268-269)

Bea's epiphany is poignant and true, and I couldn't agree with her more.  Yet even as her conviction begins to gain steam, destiny has other plans.

So that's Beatrice, a cream puff-turned-tough cookie intent on claiming what's hers.  The cover captures her courage, her bright blue dress electric against the stark black and white of the island.  That said, Montauk is about social class and gender and how they influence our place in the world.  But it's also about being honest and brave because that's what it takes to be free.    

Now if only someone would write a book called Nantucket . . . maybe I can get some answers about Pepperidge Farm.