7/100: Loving Frank, by Nancy Horan

*I'd like to apologize for the poem in the last review. I could not think of a single thing to say about that book and was getting desperate to just be done with the review. I'm obviously not much of a poet, but I saved you the boredom of reading a really awful review.*

Loving Frank tells the story of the love affair between architect Frank Lloyd Wright and Mamah Borthwick, one of Wright's clients. My interest in this book was initially piqued because of the Frank Lloyd Wright aspect. As a Chicago native, I've been familiar with Wright since early childhood; the houses he designed in the late 19th and early 20th century are all over the Chicagoland area. I also recall watching a documentary on him in 4th grade for social studies, and being completely fascinated with his somewhat eccentric ideas that homes are extensions of nature. For a long time, I wanted a tree growing straight up through the middle of my family's living room, an enthusiasm my parents surprisingly did not share. Still, I was somewhat apprehensive about Loving Frank; I had somehow gotten the impression that reading it would be akin to reading a Bronte novel (pick any Bronte, I hate them all. No offense, Bronte lovers, they just aren't my cup of tea). I have absolutely no idea where this idea came from, the fact that it was about a love story in a vaguely Victorian era probably made me think it would be all stilted dialogue and furtive glances followed by hurried, stifled copulating. I also sort of recalled that there wasn't a happy ending to Wright and Borthwick's romance, and I feared the novel would just be dry, boring, and depressing. For the record, none of this judgment came from the cover.

I was so wrong.

Loving Frank is a thoroughly engrossing read. Mamah (pronounced May-muh), who starts the story as the wife of one of Wright's clients, is the central figure of the story, not Frank. She's a woman nearing her late thirties and profoundly unhappy in her marriage. Her husband, Edwin Cheney, is a loving father to their two children, a good provider, and supportive of Mamah's intellectual pursuits, yet Mamah can't help but feeling that something is lacking from their marriage: a deep, mutual love. Ironically, it is Edwin who brings Mamah to Wright's home in an attempt to convince her to agree to building a new house, which is the catalyst for Frank and Mamah's affair.

The affair builds slowly over the course of several years. It starts off as an innocent enough friendship, with Frank stopping by the Cheney household on the pretense of going over some detail of construction. Frank and Mamah end up conversing for several hours over art, nature, literature, each others' beliefs and dreams, and inevitably, their unhappy marriages. A great deal of the conflict arises from the fact that both Mamah and Frank are married with children; Mamah and Edwin have two, while Frank and his wife, Catherine, have six. Despite the risk of ruining their reputations, the two begin a secret affair.

What makes the book so interesting, though, is not merely the affair, which is gorgeously reconstructed yet realistically flawed - it is the narration of Mamah Borthwick. Parts of the story are intersected with bits from her diary, much of which has been imagined, due to the sadly small amount of personal writing left after her death, but Mamah's voice feels organic nonetheless. She is fiercely intelligent, witty, and passionate. She is also, at times, painfully self-aware, and her inner turmoil over doing the right thing is as much of a conflict to the story as leaving her marriage is. Mamah isn't a purely selfish woman, throwing away her marriage on a whim - she examines her motives (and Frank's) every step of the way, and often acts on her principles more than her passions. Her affair with Frank leads to a great deal of self-discovery; the novel is much more than a love story.

Mamah and Frank's affair is discovered, but not before each presents the truth to their spouses. In a vein weirdly reminiscent of today's paparazzi-fueled tabloids, the press in Chicago jumps on the scandal and the opportunity to exploit their romance. Frank and Mamah's relationship is constantly under scrutiny, which adds to the stress of the affair, and sometimes threatens the fabric of the relationship itself. In addition to fighting the public opinion of the morality of what they've done, there are fights between the two lovers, too; each has sacrificed something to be with the other, and both question if the sacrifices were well-founded or foolish mistakes.

Loving Frank is first and foremost, a love story, but it is far from ordinary. All of the relationships in the novel, even those between major and minor characters, are given significant depth and complexity - the reader never forgets that Mamah and Frank's affair doesn't exist on some otherworldly plane, but is firmly rooted in reality, and affects nearly everyone the two come in contact with. Also, this story is as much about love as it is about defying convention - in your personal life or in your career - and holding your personal beliefs to a higher standard than the norms society imposes. Finally, Loving Frank is about the happiness one derives from loving oneself as much as the object of ones' affection, and coming to terms with that realization.