Ordinary Human Love by Melissa Goode
Melissa Goode first came onto my radar about five years ago as a flash fiction writer – a very, very good one. But short form writing is a different beast to the novel, so when I heard Goode had written Ordinary Human Love (2024, Ultimo Press), I had one question: could the magic of her shorter works be sustained across something so much bigger? I was delighted to discover it could.
Mardi has returned to Australia after eighteen months overseas. Her marriage to Richard is over, as is the affair that ended it, and she finds herself adrift. Staying at her father’s house in Lithgow, she lives in the shadow of his judgement and with the spectre of her mother’s death in a car accident. She struggles to mend her relationship with Ian after she ended their affair by disappearing in the night. Mardi befriends Ian’s teenage sister Claudia, in what feels like an attempt to atone for her past mistakes. But gaining forgiveness from the people in her life is no simple endeavour.
The novel leans into a vignette style reminiscent of flash fiction; each scene feels almost like a miniature story on its own. Goode’s roots in shorter form are visible but in a very readable way, and the scenes stitch together easily. This style of writing lends itself well to the flashbacks that slowly reveal the story behind Mardi’s affair with Ian, her sudden unexplained departure, and the turmoil surrounding her mother’s death. Goode’s experience as a flash writer working to tight word limits makes her writing intense and sharp; every word counts here, in every scene.
The language captures a sense of the melancholic. This is a novel driven by character and place, rather than action, and this is evident in the descriptions and details Goode picks out:
“I walked through the house in my dressing gown, unsteady, leaning against walls and furniture like a drunk. Outside, the grass was cold and damp under my feet. I twisted my hair behind me. The white lights of a plane blinked overhead slowly, all those mortal lives suspended above me.”
These descriptions highlight the contrast between the life Mardi has now and the one she lived as a successful lawyer in Sydney. Lithgow and the places she frequents there are given a darker moodiness, while Mardi’s recollections of and visits to Sydney are captured in a language of light that’s harsh, suggestive of overexposure. I found this use of descriptive language quite satisfying; what Mardi has left behind in Sydney would be many people’s dream life, but Goode makes it stark and unappealing.
The juxtaposition of Mardi’s past with her present capture one of the overarching themes of the novel: what is it that gives a life meaning and purpose? Mardi’s ideas about this have shifted, and it’s a visit with her friend Kate that first cements this in her mind:
“‘You think you’re free. No mortgage. No job. No husband. But you’re not free,’ she said. ‘You need those things to make a life for yourself. How do you expect to survive without money, assets and a good job? Not to mention Richard’s decent income.’”
This bleak assessment of what makes a life leaves Mardi cold, especially since it’s a description of the life she had walked away from. But she’s left with another question: if that’s no longer what she wants, then what is? It gives the reader pause to consider beyond social expectation what it is that gives our own lives depth.
Regret is another recurrent theme throughout the novel. Mardi’s sense of regret and yearning for the past are evident straight away in her first interactions with Ian and her father. She fixates while out to dinner on a familiar motif from her childhood and struggles to let it go.
“Now, Dad swung the Range Rover off the highway into the carpark of a Chinese restaurant. It used to be a Pizza Hut and still had the telltale roof, big picture windows and parking on all four sides.”
A conversation with her mother before the latter’s untimely death reveals that regret is not exclusive to Mardi, either. Her father also reveals his own, unexpected, regrets. Many of these regrets are tied heavily to events that resulted in overwhelming grief, and the novel examines the different ways in which people process it, often unhealthily. Mardi reflects on this while she’s dragging herself around Europe in the aftermath of compounding tragedies:
“There were a lot of us carrying a burden, dragged down by our poor broken hearts.”
It’s not until she works through the griefs she carries, and her regrets over her choices, that she’s able to forgive others and properly ask for forgiveness herself; in the process, she begins building an authentic life.
Ordinary Human Love is a book for those who love quiet novels. Its strength lies in the characters and their flawed humanity. The interrogation of grief, regret and finding purpose is subtly written. In Goode’s world, life can be messy and complicated, but also achingly beautiful in the smallest of moments.
Amanda McLeod is a creative based in Canberra, Australia. She’s the author of two books, Animal Behaviour and Heartbreak Autopsy, and has had many pieces published both in print and online. Her recent works explore nature, ecology and connection, and some can be found in EcoTheo Review and Wild Roof Journal. A self-professed tree nerd, you can usually find her outside by the nearest river. If she’s not there, try Twitter and Instagram (both @AmandaMWrites) or her website AmandaMcLeodWrites.com.