‘Three Incestuous Sisters’ by Audrey Niffenegger: Wonderful…and Weird
With a title like that, the book is bound to be strange, which it is. Even as a physical object, it’s a rarity among books for grown-ups. Subtitled “an illustrated novel,” ‘Sisters’ could also accurately be described as a picture book for adults of oddball, slightly grotesque sensibilities. The elliptical story text appears on the left page, while each righthand page shows a melancholy aquatint. Done by Niffenegger, the somber illustrations elaborate on – and frequently overtake – the bare-bones plot. Heavier than a laptop and much more engrossing, ‘Sisters’ is something to balance on your knees and enjoy.
‘Sisters’ possesses a minimalist storyline that’s as unusual as its packagin. There are three sisters: Bettine, the luminous blonde; the mystical and blue-haired middle child, Clothilde; and the dreary black-haired eldest, Ophile. They live in coastal isolation worthy of Emily Dickinson until Bettine falls in love with Paris the lighthouse keeper’s son. Ophile goes nearly insane with envy, while Clothilde magically mentors her unborn nephew, the Saint (which, in case you’re worried, is as close as we get to the incest referred to in the title). When Ophile’s jealousy leads to Bettine’s death, the green-skinned Saint is picked up by a traveling carnival. More loss, grief and high drama ensue before the Saint finds his way back to his ancestral home.
For a weird concept with a weird execution, ‘Sisters’ fares surprisingly well. At one sentence or sentence fragment per page, the schematic storyline tries for a Baudelairean melancholy or even the hieratic tone of certain Wildean fairy tales. But it is still overwritten, painfully so. My advice: Glance at the words, but lose yourself in the illustrations.
The strength of this book lies in its illustrations. The dark backgrounds and spindly figures remind me of Gorey’s work, especially in the freakily beautiful way in which dead Bettine streams out of the lighthouse’s beam, haunting Ophile, but Gorey never had this much sensuality. Look at the illustration of Bettine and Paris, his profile and her front-on view merging as they kiss, their bodies reduced to four hands with a glow at the center. Or check out the picture of an older Clothilde, reunited with her green, winged and muscular nephew, teaching him levitation and invisibility. Niffenegger’s stark, detailed aquatints pay tribute to the sensual possibilities of familial relationships.
In an afterword that is longer than the complete text of the novel, Niffenegger explains that she worked laboriously on ‘Sisters’ for over a decade. She also inadvertently summarizes the strengths and weaknesses of her own work. “As the images gained in complexity,” she explains, “the text dwindled until the weight of the story was carried by the images.” Right, I agree: The pictures are the best part. So why didn’t she just drop the text and produce “a novel in pictures” instead? I’d love to buy this book and pore over it, but I’m waiting for a steep discount.
