The Tin Can Tree (Arena Books) (original: 1965; edição: 1987)

uando la piccola Janie Rose Pike muore, a sei anni, per un banale incidente, il microcosmo della lunga casa trifamiliare dal tetto di latta che ospita la sua famiglia, le signorine Potter e i due fratelli Green sembra scombussolato per sempre. Il dolore di ciascuno e il senso di impotenza di fronte alla sofferenza degli altri alterano gli equilibri, riportano a galla vecchie ferite, mettono a nudo paralisi emotive ormai croniche. Ma Simon, il fratello maggiore di Janie Rose, è solo un bambino: ha bisogno di attenzioni, di qualcuno che giochi con lui e lo aiuti a ricordare, a integrare in quel presente desolato gli oggetti, i frammenti di memoria legati alla sorella che le sopravvivono, si riaffacciano immancabilmente proprio quando, per un momento, si era riusciti a non pensarci. Ed è proprio l’ostinato istinto vitale di Simon a scuotere gli adulti dal proprio dolore.

Photographs represent attempts to stop time, which is why we get out our cameras on Christmas morning, at birthday parties, at family reunions and when children and pets do cute things more than we do at funeral homes and in hospital rooms. Some moments we want to stop more than others.

Anne Tyler seems to have this thought in mind when she uses photography as a metaphor in one of her earliest novels, "The Tin Can Tree" (1965). James, the designated photographer, twice takes photos at gatherings of friends and family. One is soon after the shocking death of little Janie Rose, when smiles prove hard to find. Later he tries again, more successfully, after Simon, Janie Rose's runaway brother, is found and returns home.

Simon feels ignored and unloved after his sister's death. His mother, who hardly even gets out of her bed, ignores him, leaving him in the care of Joan, a young adult relative with a crush on James. Meanwhile Joan herself feels unloved and unappreciated, as James devotes himself to Ansel, his hypochondriac brother. So she runs away, too, later returning with hardly anyone even noticing she had left, finding the party for Simon, the young prodigal, already in progress.

Other times, both past and future, and other places, where the grass appears more green, have their appeal. Yet Tyler's familiar but timeless message seems to be that what we have in this moment's photograph, the place where we are and the people we still have with us, can be worth celebrating. ( )

A great portrait of working people in small-town America in the 1960s. Didn't really move me, though. Tyler's usual observational skills are excellent, but there was too much minor detail for my tastes, and the story was rather slow-moving. Pleasant enough as a light read for odd moments. ( )

After the death of 6-year-old Janie Rose, the Pike family and those who are closest to them have to find a way to move on with their lives. Like most of Tyler's novels, the story is primarily focused on the characters and doesn't have a lot of action.

This isn't one of Tyler's best books, but it's a quick and simple read. As always, her characters are as quirky as they can possibly be, but she somehow always manages to keep them believable. ( )

Less engaging than other novels of hers I have read. ( )