Jessamyn West

Jessamyn West: the end of innocence

THE LIFE I REALLY LIVED; Jessamyn West; Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 404 pp., $11.95.

By Marie Forbes Jessamyn West, in the nonfiction The Woman Said Yes, wrote of her early battle with tuberculosis (and of her sister's death of cancer) without exposing very much of her inner self. In this book, which she calls a novel, she reveals a great deal of what may or may not be her personal experience, but cloaks it in fiction.

Her central character, Orpha, says that "after almost forty years of writing and eighteen novels, I am determined to look inward." Whether it is read as autobiography (as most readers undoubtedly will) or as fiction, this narrative presents new and brilliant facets of Ms. West's skill as a story writer. background

The

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'I can speak freely now. Mama is no longer here.'

MAMAJA

Kentucky-Indiana farm country and California will be familiar to readers of earlier works, as will some of the characters, but those who expect another Friendly Persuasion are in for a shock. As Orpha says, "I can speak freely now. Mama is no longer here." And speak freely she does the powerful scenes of incest and near-rape with which the story begins shatter forever that image of innocence and other-worldliness.

The first half of the book, with the tomboyish Orpha growing up, exploring her own sexuality and groping for a definition of herself as woman and writer, succeeds best

as a novel. Married early, Orpha discovers her husband is having a homosexual affair with a boy.

She becomes a surrogate mother to an illegitimate child, falls into a disastrous second marriage, then into an affair with a married man. Ms. West's terse prose works magnificently here as when Orpha explains why a man unable to father children has become a dog poisoner

"A man wants to have some direct connection with life. You see this in hunters."

In the second half of the book, Orpha moves to California where her brother, a born-again faith healer, becomes involved in a sensational court case after one of

his followers refuses medical attention and dies. Later, Orpha falls in love with Gregory McGovern, an actor.

Novelistically, the story weakens here when the focus drifts away from Orpha too long. Emotions ring less true, perhaps because it is extremely difficult to fictionalize events close to the present time and characters whom readers will inevitably, identify with real-life persons. Orpha's reaction to Gregory's adultery with her adopted daughter seems flat and the ending that leaves her staring off into the sunset with her third husband is slightly saccharine.

Still, these flaws which could be fatal to the work of a lesser writer detract little from this powerful tale told by a master story-teller

Marie Forbes is a free-lance reviewer.