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Mrs. Mellark selected January's pick for No Vacancy Book Club: Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilson.
Lillian and Madison were unlikely roommates and yet inseparable friends at their elite boarding school. But then Lillian had to leave the school unexpectedly in the wake of a scandal and they’ve barely spoken since. Until now, when Lillian gets a letter from Madison pleading for her help. Madison’s twin stepkids are moving in with her family and she wants Lillian to be their caretaker. However, there’s a catch: the twins spontaneously combust when they get agitated, flames igniting from their skin in a startling but beautiful way. Lillian is convinced Madison is pulling her leg, but it’s the truth. Thinking of her dead-end life at home, the life that has consistently disappointed her, Lillian figures she has nothing to lose. Over the course of one humid, demanding summer, Lillian and the twins learn to trust each other—and stay cool—while also staying out of the way of Madison’s buttoned-up politician husband. Surprised by her own ingenuity yet unused to the intense feelings of protectiveness she feels for them, Lillian ultimately begins to accept that she needs these strange children as much as they need her—urgently and fiercely. Couldn’t this be the start of the amazing life she’d always hoped for?
Let me just say it: Kevin Wilson is the most original voice in modern fiction. In just a handful of short stories and books, Wilson has established himself as an author with plotlines that skirt the edge of what’s believable and characters that are as quirky as they are endearing.
In Nothing to See Here, the narrator and main character, Lillian, is asked to become a caretaker for the twin step-kids of her high school best friend, Madison. Madison and Lillian’s relationship is complicated- they haven’t even seen each other in over a decade. Furthermore, these are no ordinary children; Bessie and Roland spontaneously combust. Yes. Literally. Up to this point, Lillian’s life has been a series of disappointments and she figures she has nothing to lose. Besides, she never says no to Madison. What follows is a heartwarming and hilarious portrayal of child-rearing, found family, and the value of friendship.
Our book club discussion revolved around three main points:
**MAJOR SPOILERS FOLLOW**
1.) The dynamic between Lillian and the kids/ the notion of “found family.”
Immediately, Lillian establishes herself as a fierce protector of these twins:
“As they stared at me, I knew how much of myself I was going to unfairly place in them. They were me, unloved and f—ed over, and I was going to make sure they got what they needed. They would scratch and kick me, and I was going to scratch and kick anyone who tried to touch them” (Page 81).
Time and time again, Lillian proves true to her word, defending the twins at every juncture with a maternal sort of ferocity. Ironically, Lillian’s own damaged childhood- the gaping hole left by her lack of parental love- leaves her with no point of reference for what makes a good parent. Lillian has no idea what a healthy family relationship looks like, so she has a difficult time recognizing that maybe she needs these strange children as much as they need her.
“How do I say this? How do I say it and have you understand?… I was happy that Bessie and Roland would be mine. But, can you understand me? I was sad. I was sad because I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted them. They had appeared, like magic, but I wasn’t magical. I was messed up… Having two children, two children who caught on fire, would be hard. It would make me sad. It would be so easy to ruin them” (Page 251).
Lillian‘s source of sadness is not the children or their propensity to catch fire, but her fear of “ruining them.” Lillian fails to see that this is exactly what makes her a good guardian. Worried about screwing up your kids? Welcome to parenthood, Lillian. Join the club!
Furthermore, Lillian’s uncertainty here makes the final sentences of the book that much more gratifying. She decides to believe what readers have long understood: these children already belong to her & they’ll all be just fine.
2.) Wilson’s use of “fire children.”
When Bessie and Roland are upset, they catch fire. Through these flames, Wilson offers a compelling mental image of how childhood trauma feels.
“I realized there were delicate waves of yellow flame moving up and down Bessie‘s little arms. And then, like a crack of lightning, she burst fully into flames, her body a kind of firework, the fire white and blue and red all at once. It was beautiful, no lie, to watch a person burn” (Page 73).
These episodes leave the children mentally and physically exhausted.
“As if they had been holding their breath the entire time, Bessie and Roland each took in a deep gulp of air and then sighed, suddenly sleepy. I leaned against them and they kind of slumped onto me” (page 86).
Bessie and Roland have led difficult lives. Their mother is dead and their father views them as obstacles to his political aspirations. Catching fire is the external manifestation of what they’re feeling inside: alone, unloved, & angry.
Significantly, the fire is also described as beautiful to behold. The fire doesn’t only come when they’re angry or scared. Bessie explains she can sometimes make the fire appear at will.
“She closed her eyes like she was making a wish for the entire world. It was so dark, I couldn’t see her skin, but I could feel the heat, the slight change in temperature, the way it moved in waves. And then, after about 15 seconds of complete stillness, utter silence, there were these little blue flames on her arms…And the flames rolled back-and-forth across her arms but they never went beyond those parameters, never flared up more than that. And the light from the fire made her face glow. And she was smiling. She was smiling at me” (page 207).
If the fire is a representation of emotional trauma, might Wilson be posturing something bigger here? Maybe we control the effect our damaged childhood has on us. What’s more, maybe the damage makes us stronger.
“She was breathing so steadily, a perfect machine. ‘I don’t ever want it to go away,’ she told me. ‘I don’t know what I would do if it never came back.’ ‘I understand,’ I said, and I did understand. ‘How else would we protect ourselves?’ She asked. ‘I don’t know,’ I answered. How did people protect themselves? How did anyone keep this world from ruining them? I wanted to know. I wanted to know so bad.” (page 208)
In my opinion, Wilson offers a beautiful perspective on the figurative fire inside these children. It won’t always combust into an untenable flame; eventually, it’ll burn just bright enough to keep them warm.
A message of hope for all those struggling with childhood trauma!
Side point: Our whole book club LOVED the moment Timothy caught fire. Hey Jasper! Guess the weird fire genes run on YOUR side of the family!
3.) The portrayal of a toxic female friendship.
This is the trickiest of our three talking points to commit to writing. Female friendships (especially toxic ones) are difficult to articulate. Maybe that’s why it borders on infuriating that Kevin Wilson (a dude!) nails it. Suffice to say, Madison is NOT worthy of Lillian. The end.
Don’t sleep on this book! Turns out there is A LOT to see here!
- Mrs. Mellark
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