In The Berry Pickers, Amanda Peters tells the story of a young Mi’kmaq girl, Ruthie, who is kidnapped by a white couple devastated that they are unable to produce their own child. Ruthie’s absence from her family leads to five decades of family trauma, mainly lived out through the character of Joe, Ruthie’s brother, who holds himself accountable for Ruthie’s disappearance and in turn succumbs to addiction, violence, and various forms of self-neglect and self-loathing. The novel shuttles between the perspectives of Joe and Ruthie until the two are reunited at Joe’s death in a moment that Peters paints as a — if not curative, then rightful — denouement.
I found the novel’s character expression powerful, and specifically appreciated the low-fuss way in which Peters reveals the inner workings of her two protagonists through quiet, hard-won insight expressed in monologue (and occasional, catchy aphorism). I don’t think I’ll soon forget the cinematic vista of Joe driving west, blood stains on his jeans, as he grapples with his own failings, or Ruthie hearing the voices of children while the waves break on the beach. Peters has a masterful way of conjuring deep and conflicting sets of emotions in her characters without straight exposition.
The book is also powerfully atmospheric: it is a sparse and elegiac, painterly and quiet. Whenever I picked it up, even when encountering the violent scenes, I had the impression of being in a library, where everything is hushed and echoing. I can’t pinpoint the exact technicalities that brought this to bear, but it gives the book a distinctive sound and tone.
At the same time, I found the plot distractingly heavy-handed. The siblings’ path-crossing in Boston, the aunt’s discovery of the obscure news clipping, the berry farm owner’s willingness to shell out sensitive personal information all read like roughshod contrivances. And Ruthie’s seeming lack of awareness about her appearance relative to her parents’ and the synchrony between her “dreams” and the onset of her mother’s headaches felt farfetched, too. But I think the plot’s weaknesses are forgivable within the broader commentary Peters is making about the Mi’kmaq experience, forced assimilation, and the devastating history of taking indigenous children from their families and sending them to white schools where (borrowing/adapting the words of Ruthie’s eldest sister, Mae): “they try to erase the Indian out of you.” In a sense, this is what has happened to Ruthie: she has been forcibly taken from her Mi’kmaq family, and re-introduced to herself as “a white girl with Italian ancestry,” and the book operates sufficiently at that meta level, too, by demonstrating just how grave forced family separation can be. Her abduction leads her to lose much of herself — her memories, her culture, most importantly the deep love of her family — and deeply wounds multiple generations within her birth family. It is an unimaginable crime, and I think where the plot falls short, Peters is underlining this point by showing us the extreme lengths to which people will go to keep or restore their families. This book, then, is about family ties — the delusions and lies we tell ourselves to keep them, and the beautiful ways in which they can hold us together. We even see this lived out though Ruthie’s “adoptive” (using the term ironically) family: they somehow convince themselves that their abduction is excusable because they genuinely love and care for Ruthie. And Peters cultivates some pathos from her audience on this front, too. (How hard do we come down on her Aunt June?) On the other side of the story, we have Joe, who continuously injures himself by deceiving himself into believing he has been the cause of his sister’s abduction and brother’s death — misapprehensions born of deep familial love that destroy his body and spirit.
Mainly, though, when I think of this book, I see a sprawl of loneliness, in which characters isolated from their families whether by choice or crime or violence or some combination of all three hang suspended in their own inner turmoil. Even when the characters are able to connect with one another in various ways (including at the novel’s tidy ending), the book still reads like a set of isolation journals, with the characters anxiously watchful, and their monologues verging on the solipsistic. I am thinking not only of Ruthie and Joe and their relationships with their siblings and parents, but also Ruthie and her husband, from whom she chooses to distance herself after a miscarriage. She makes herself be alone. Again and again, the characters withdraw and withhold–until the novel’s end. In this way, the storyline runs like spilt milk, the liquid running every which way but together, filling little grooves and cracks, running further and further down the table. I felt helpless watching it unfold, a sensation furthered by Peters’ decision to give us early access to the truth of the situation. We know, within the first few chapters, exactly what has happened; the characters don’t find out until the novel’s end.
My concluding review: I would recommend this book as a perfect fit for a book club, capable of sustaining substantive conversation but easy enough to read in a couple sittings.
The Berry Pickers Book Club Questions.
I used to write book club questions for our book conversations and have somehow fallen off. I have a high suspicion that this book will be heavily read in book clubs the world over, so am sharing a couple of conversation starters here in case you’re in that boat:
+Why do you think Peters chose the title “Berry Pickers” for the novel? Why not, for example, anchor a title in Ruthie’s abduction, or in the family itself? How does the title draw us out of (or into) a specific narrative?
+Why do you think Ruthie chose to leave her husband after her miscarriage? What did this decision do within the broader themes of family tie, bloodlines, isolation, etc?
+How did the narrative structure make you feel? Do you think the dueling perspectives worked?
+Why do you think Peters let us know the truth of Ruthie’s abduction so early in the novel?
+How culpable do you find Aunt June? What do you think Peters is saying about her complicitness in Ruthie’s abduction?
Post-Scripts: What to Read Next.
+Books in a similar vein: The God of the Woods (which I’ve read; full review linked) and All the Colors of the Dark (which I’ve not, but is often mentioned by well-read friends in the same breath).
+One of my favorite book club reads. I really enjoyed discussing this one with the women in my neighborhood.
+Currently reading: The Wild Dark Shore by Charlotte McConaghy (a literary thriller; the cover copy summarizes the gist with: “A family on a remote island. A mysterious woman washed ashore. A rising storm on the horizon.”). I know a lot of you read and loved this book; can’t wait to compare notes.
+Next in my TBR: The Book of Alchemy by Suleika Jouaud, which I happily pre-ordered (a great way to support an author you love — the volume of pre-orders matters heavily to the publishing houses and literally is no effort at all for those of us already planning to order the book). I absolutely love Suleika and her warm, curious, earnest Substack. One of her essays led me to generate my own list of “Energy Multipliers.” She has such a giving creative spirit.
+More of what our Magpie community is reading right now here!
+Are you a bad book girl, too? (Twin with us in this hat if you are. I’ve heard several of you bought these to wear to your own book clubs!)
Shopping Break.
+Amazing new arrivals at Veronica Beard: this dress, this vest, this eyelet maxi.
+Currently sitting here wearing my favorite cropped sweatpants (<<found more on sale here, for 40% off in select colors!; run TTS) and the softest, most divine henley on earth (I own this in two colors). I ran earlier and was so cold; I feel swaddled in comfort at the moment.
+Trending among Magpies the past 48 hours: these suede sandals. I believe they’re still 50% off. All my favorite J. Crew new arrivals here.
+My friend Inslee’s new botanical prints are gorgeous! I love this one. You can still purchase two of the three prints from our collaboration earlier this year here!
+Fun sun print dress and a beautiful embroidered skirt.
+These bold upholstered ottomans are on clearance at Pottery Barn. Love! Also into this long console storage bin.
+At Zara, I’m loving this top and dress for me, and these tees for my son.
+Fun salad servers.
+I have been wearing this belt a ton lately. Love the whipstitch trim detail!
+A gorgeous coffee table book.
+For fellow mothers with children about to celebrate their First Communion — a few gift ideas! This necklace, scripture cards like these or these, or tiny cross earrings.
+I just ordered this tee and these shorts for my daughter from La Coqueta. While we’re talking kids, have you seen the Hunter x LSF collab?! SO adorable. Also love these Adidas x Liberty London sneakers!
+These sandals are seriously cool.
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