TaxideaDaisy reviewed Ancestor by Danielle Trussoni
Review of 'Ancestor' on 'Goodreads'
4 stars
Confession: We put off reading this book for a year because these “Gal finds Herself” stories don’t appeal to us, and of course that was silly because this is not a formula story – of any sort.
You probably know how it starts: Bert Monte, of Milton NY, is presented with the apparently preposterous news that she’s inherited an ancestral family seat in the Italian Alps, to which she soon travels. To describe The Ancestor as Gothic, though, is not fair to the novel nor the genre: the setting, the set-up, the trappings, may all have that Gothic veneer, but Trussoni’s novel is contemporary, her prose clean and clear even amidst the story’s mysteries. On the other hand, the storyline is perhaps inexorable, a trait that does hearken back to many a Gothic horror classic.
As in Angelology, Ms Trussoni brings us first into the landscape of a Hudson River …
Confession: We put off reading this book for a year because these “Gal finds Herself” stories don’t appeal to us, and of course that was silly because this is not a formula story – of any sort.
You probably know how it starts: Bert Monte, of Milton NY, is presented with the apparently preposterous news that she’s inherited an ancestral family seat in the Italian Alps, to which she soon travels. To describe The Ancestor as Gothic, though, is not fair to the novel nor the genre: the setting, the set-up, the trappings, may all have that Gothic veneer, but Trussoni’s novel is contemporary, her prose clean and clear even amidst the story’s mysteries. On the other hand, the storyline is perhaps inexorable, a trait that does hearken back to many a Gothic horror classic.
As in Angelology, Ms Trussoni brings us first into the landscape of a Hudson River town, this time in Ulster County. Bert’s marriage may be in some disarray, but we soon see the affection she still feels for her husband, Luca, and his father, Bob. Like many New Yorkers, Bert and Luca come of Italian stock, with family memories of the Old Country both near and elusive. In fact, throughout the novel, we’d say that narrator reliability (or lack thereof) is an interesting feature.
One of Trussoni’s gifts is that she draws the reader along into the stranger aspects of her stories in a fairly matter-of-fact way. She doesn’t rely on strings of vintage adjectives or distracting adverbs to convey the sort of mood that the casual reader might have expected. This is not “The Fall of the House of Usher.” While Montebianco Castle doesn’t lack for shadows in the windows, dusty disused rooms and tower, savage guard dogs, etc., and boasts scenic grounds and even a greenhouse, all of that is described in modern language that does not intrude itself (for the most part) into the storytelling.
In The Ancestor as well as in the Angel books, Trussoni demonstrates such a solid ability to describe things we know (the Hudson River valley area, for example) that we have come to trust her descriptions of places of which we know nothing (the Valle d’Aosta).
Might we quibble with this or that description detail or plot twist? Sure, but we can do that with any story, it’s just that most of our reading fits comfortably in established genres. When something stands out, it’s too easy to take pot shots rather than appreciate what might be an unfamiliar artistry. The Ancestor was not at all what we expected – and that turned out to be a wonderful thing.
