Bear by Julia Phillips
“Its paws were the size of a dinner plate, she said. Bigger than a human skull. Sam pictured her sister’s skinny fingers drawing a circle in the air, sketching out the claws that could’ve killed her. The bear was losing its light in Sam’s memory. It was turning into something shadowed and frightening.”
I found Bear (2024, Scribe) by Julia Phillips to be somewhat of a puzzling read. Described as a “propulsive, mythical, rich novel,” it follows the lives of twenty-something sisters Sam and Elena as they battle their way through the cards life has dealt them. With a mother on her deathbed, mounting medical bills, and little opportunity to better their circumstances, they struggle to survive.
The sisters have thrown themselves into what little work is available to them: Elena at a local golf club and Sam as a cafe server aboard the ferries that take tourists between their island and neighbouring islands in the Pacific Northwest. Sam sells pre-packaged food to “people who treated her like a peasant.” Life seems bleak, with Sam passing her time filling out online surveys for a few extra bucks and sneaking off to have sex with her co-worker.
The novel is told from Sam’s perspective, who we quickly learn is holding out for her mother's death so that she and Elena can sell the house, clear their debts, and finally escape the island. It’s a dream they’ve harboured since their early teens, and Sam can’t wait for the day to finally arrive.
But instead, a bear does.
“She closed her eyes, black on black, while thinking of that: the animal. The luck she’d had to spot it. Sam did feel lucky sometimes. She did see some beautiful things.”
After spotting a bear swimming between the islands, Sam’s sense of awe at the creature quickly turns to fear when, one day, Elena opens their front door to discover it sitting outside. From here, it seems as though the bear has marked them in some unknowable way, and Sam’s fears continue to mount.
“The bear stepping out and staring at her, its small, glowing eyes and enormous wet mouth. Its claws digging into the earth. If Sam had been in Elena’s shoes, she would’ve screamed or tried to run or – anything.”
The opening of Bear is immediately engaging; we already know what we’re in for, so it’s enjoyable to have the titular character make their dramatic entrance straight up. The trouble is, we’re left with Sam and her thoughts about the bear for nearly two-thirds of the book, with very little else happening. Sam is distinctly unlikeable: she’s self-absorbed, bitter, and resentful of everyone, except for Elena, who takes on a princess-like quality in the eyes of her younger sister.
“Like Cinderella picking lentils from the ashes… Sam was a nobody doing work that meant nothing, but no prince was ever going to pluck her out of this … Elena was the only one who was going to save her from this place. They were going to have to save each other.”
This drawn-out slow burn and repetition of Sam’s resentful thoughts, low self-esteem and fears of the bear in the first chunk of the book deadens the impact of what’s to come for me. By the time momentum picked up again, I was past caring what happened to Sam or Elena, which is a shame because Phillips does deliver when it comes to the outcome of the sisters and the bear.
Phillips uses side characters well, particularly the romantic interests of the sisters and the arrival of a young, attractive wildlife expert (who seems to be the only person in the book capable of any logic and common sense and who is frustratingly ignored by all). I understand Phillips was going for a fable/fairytale quality here, so each character plays a trope, but even this felt a little heavy-handed throughout. The concept is forced on us by the closing pages:
“They were as close as two perfect girls in the fables people offered their children as bedtime stories. Every year, they grew the most beautiful rose, white and red. They lived happily ever after.”
Bear has a lot to say about sisters and ideals of sisterhood, what we know and don’t know (or choose not to know) about those we love, and how we lie to ourselves and keep believing in the lies because the truth can be far more painful. Phillips' world-building is masterful, and I loved the strong sense of place she evokes. Bear was such an intriguing and promising premise, but unfortunately, the delivery and pacing of this one let down the bigger themes at its heart for this reader.
Elaine Chennatt is a writer, educator and psychology student currently residing in nipaluna. She has a special interest in bibliotherapy (how we use literature to make sense of our lives) and is endlessly curious about the creative philosophies of others. She lives with her husband and two bossy dachshunds on the not-so-sunny side of the river (IYKYK). Find her online at wordswithelaine.com.
