As we approach middle age, it’s not uncommon for us to take stock of our lives and feel disappointment–with the choices we’ve made (or haven’t been able to make) or with where we find ourselves in terms of our relationships, our careers, or our mental, physical, spiritual, or material well-being.
In this reflective, thought-provoking novel, the main character, Polly Wainwright, finds herself in just such a place. Yet in a refreshing turn, her dissatisfaction with her life becomes a sort of engine, driving her to discover new possibilities for herself. In the process, she ends up unraveling a mystery: about a man and a place she’d encountered, and been deeply affected by, years before. All of these elements make for an engaging, richly rewarding read.
At the start of the novel, 34-year-old Polly is at a crossroads in her life. She feels lucky to hold a steady, respectable job as a picture editor for Encyclopaedia Britannica in Chicago, a city she’s come to regard as home. Yet her future feels uncertain on several fronts. For one thing, Polly learns that she, like several other colleagues at EB, may soon be losing her job. For another, a dear friend of hers, Eugenia, has become seriously ill. Also, Polly’s boyfriend–and potential future spouse–is reporting news from a danger zone: Saigon. (It’s 1974, and he’s covering the final days of the war in Vietnam.)
Polly also feels ambivalent, not just about her relationship with her boyfriend, but also about what she’s doing with her life. Although she’s grateful to have the job at EB, it feels like a big come-down from a dream she’d given up on years before: becoming a documentary filmmaker.
In a flashback to 1962, the novel immerses us in the circumstances that led Polly to let go of this dream. At the time, she’d held a low-level job at a film production company led by a man who seemed determined to limit Polly’s responsibilities, despite her expressed desire to be part of a film crew. (Here, and in several other places in the novel, Polly is forced to deal with sexist behavior and remarks in professional and social settings–a bracing reminder of the misogyny and gender inequalities that were rampant at the time and that, unfortunately, are far from behind us.)
At some point, Polly learns that a production team (all male) will be heading to rural Wisconsin to film a feature about a noted photographer, Cole Watkins, who is nearing the end of his life. Although her boss ignores her repeated pleas to join the team, she is able to do so after one of the crew members becomes injured.
In Wisconsin, Polly and the other members of the production team set up shop at the architecturally quirky home/studio that Watkins had built in the forties, known as Starlight Lodge. As work on the film begins, the other crew members treat Polly either indifferently or cruelly, for the most part, and she’s ordered not to interact with Watkins. Yet one night, she encounters him unexpectedly, and he draws her into conversation. He seems to feel a connection to Polly, and she senses that the power of his vision as a photographer hasn’t been dimmed by time:
Shortly after this encounter, Polly is blamed, unfairly, for a mishap on the set, and she’s fired from the production. For years, she assumes that this marked the end of her disappointingly brief filmmaking career. Then, as she faces uncertainty about her future at EB, a door to that past–and a possible new future–opens. While cleaning out the office of Polly’s old, now-dead boss at the production company, the boss’s nephew finds a package that was supposed to have been forwarded to her years before.
The package was sent by Watkins’ housekeeper, shortly after Watkins’ death. (By the time Polly receives it, the housekeeper has also died.) The package includes, among other things, old letters to Watkins that reveal jaw-dropping secrets that were withheld even from his sons. These papers open up many questions for Polly, among them: Why had Watkins, clearly a man with secrets, been willing to let a film crew descend on him? There is also the question of why, after having established himself in New York City, Watkins retreated to rural Wisconsin.
Polly might have let these questions go unanswered. She’s leading a stable, relatively content life in Chicago, and she soon learns that she might have a line on a more permanent job at Encyclopaedia Britannica. Yet her curiosity, and a goodly measure of dissatisfaction with her life, lead her to travel back to Wisconsin to see if she can find anyone who can help her answer her questions connected to Watkins. One person who seems dead-set against helping Polly is a local bartender and groundskeeper at the now-decrepit Starlight Lodge. But in time, he proves to be a central figure in the mystery she’s been hoping to get to the bottom of, a mystery that seems to expand at every turn.
As Polly closes in on some major revelations, she gets an inspired idea that might help her achieve her dream of making a documentary film. But pursuing this idea would be taking a big risk, one that might pay off grandly or that might be yet another career setback. Polly must consider whether the risk is worth it, or whether it would be better for her to return to a more certain, if less exciting, existence in Chicago.
As she pursues answers to her questions about Watkins, Polly is faced with another mystery: the behavior of her dear friend Eugenia. Eugenia has returned home to St. Louis to receive treatment for Hodgkin’s lymphoma, under her parents’ care. But the distance between her and Polly feels more than geographical, with Eugenia asking that Polly call her only once a week and avoid asking her about her condition. This story line gets at a larger truth: that even in what we consider our closest relationships, we may never fully know the other person. Sometimes, this mystery may be intentional and, perhaps, impenetrable by design.
In conclusion, Midstream satisfies on multiple levels. It’s an engaging sleuthing story. But perhaps more importantly, it holds out a truth that is as sobering as it is hopeful: Sometimes, long after a dream flames out, embers of disappointment and dissatisfaction remain. But every now and then, they spark bright new possibilities.
Would My Pick be Your Pick?
If you're interested in ________, the answer may be "Yes":￭ Stories about confronting life disappointments
￭ Stories about friendship/challenges in friendships
￭ Mysteries
￭ Stories about confronting gender inequality
