The darkest thing about this Seattle thriller? Sexism

The KUOW Book Club is reading Kirsten Sundberg Lunstrum’s novel “Elita” this month. I’m your reading guide Katie Campbell. Let’s get into the first half of the book.

hriller vibes are abundant in “Elita,” from the “wild” child who does not speak to the prison island she’s found on to the dreary Settle winter during which the story is set.

But the darkest part by far is how sexism blooms and creeps into the central conflict. Bureaucracy is scary enough. Bureaucracy tinged with 1950s American chauvinism? The stuff of nightmares.

Child development scholar Bernadette Baston is brought in on the case of a girl found alone on the fictional Puget Sound island of Elita, which houses a prison. The girl, dubbed Atalanta after the abandoned child turned huntress in Greek mythology, will not or cannot speak. Bernadette is supposed to teach her how and, in doing so, unearth her story. Her mission is not an easy one, and it’s made harder by the condescending Dr. Brodaccio keeping Atalanta in his care at the prison.

Brodaccio’s chauvinism and that of other male characters takes familiar forms: the judgement of a professional woman who is also raising a small child, the treatment of her expertise as less than, the blame immediately placed on Atalanta’s unknown mother. The men who found Atalanta — and “caught” her — are the first to wonder where the mother is, not bothering to ask the same about the father.

“She seemed not right, that one. Crazy. Like an animal. Wild. We couldn’t leave a child out there. Little girl. Where’s her mother at? That’s what I thought. Where’s this kid’s goddamn mother? We caught her for her own safety.”
ELITA, PAGE 8

Perhaps the man who said that about the girl’s “goddamn mother” has his own reasons to shift blame. I’m trying to avoid spoilers here, though, so we’ll leave that for another day.

The sexism Bernadette is up against extends to Atalanta, too, when her case worker, Nora Reach, reveals that the girl may actually be closer to the legal definition of adulthood. Records reveal she may be 17, not 12 as she appears to be. That changes things for Bernadette, who is all too aware of what a difference of a few years can mean for Atalanta and her predicament.

There’s a clock on the work, and it has been sped up by Nora’s new information about Atalanta’s past and her age. A little motherless child in need of a savior is a darling who commands attention. But an 18-year-old woman without any of the corseted assets of a socialized girlhood? Different beast entirely.
elita, page 32

This dynamic leaves the reader with the distinct impression that someone doesn’t want Bernadette to find the truth, and that someone knows the clock is ticking.

Like so many other good scary stories, “Elita” is also about economics.

The island of Elita, in addition to the prison, once also housed a small village. But that village was closed, displacing the people who lived there —and possibly leaving Atalanta behind in the shuffle.

There is an awareness of class and inequity in Lunstrum’s writing, and it adds that extra layer of tension. As a single mother, Bernadette is attuned to the way her peers may see her and, more importantly, her charge. Remembers, it’s 1951 in “Elita,” so even her fellow child development experts may be working off antiquated ideas of socialization. Bernadette wonders about that when she first meets Nora, a woman who appears to come from money and privilege.

The waitress interrupts, bending over to pour the coffee. Bernadette notes Nora’s curt nod when her mug is full, the way she opens her paper napkins like unfolding a newspaper and settles it over her lap. She has etiquette-lesson posture. … She’s all right angles, Bernadette thinks, and wonders if the woman’s interest in Atalanta is more colonial than maternal — the challenge and thrill of taking on a girl who isn’t just a case, but a potential to prove the merits of a “civilizing” influence.
ELITA, PAGE 26

Readers can trust that Bernadette’s motivations are pure, even if those of her colleagues are muddy. It’s not lost on her that Atalanta and her own daughter, Willie, have at least one thing in common:

Oh, Atalanta, Bernadette thinks. Oh, Willie. You fatherless girls. You unwanted daughters.
ELITA, PAGE 81

Of course, Willie’s father is known and alive and, suddenly, back in the picture. What this means for Bernadette, Willie, and Atalanta, even peripherally, is a question that looms large in my mind at this point in the book. Lunstrum, I think, wants it that way, to create this sense of foreboding even when things seem to be falling into place.

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Spoiler alert: I need your help, fellow bookworms! I’ll be out of the country for the latter half of November, so I’m looking for a nice short read to cover next month. I’m currently leaning toward “The Curve of Time,” a true Pacific Northwest classic by M. Wylie Blanchet. I won’t have time to interview an author, so I’m also into this pick, quite frankly, because Blanchet is no longer with us; she died in 1961.

That said, I’d love to hear any suggestions y’all might have for our November read. I’m looking for something with a maximum of 200 pages, preferably a true PNW classic. I’d also like to pick a nonfiction book.

Send your suggestions to me at kcampbell@kuow.org.

The darkest thing about this Seattle thriller? Sexism

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