Caine Prize Blogathon: Phosphorescence

Diane Awerbuck, in her story (find it here) about Brittany, a teenager perhaps taking the teenage a tad too far, and who goes swimming with her grandmother, Alice, to whom she has been sent by her father for a change of scene that might help her deal with her teenage crisis, writes in a gradually engrossing style, one that creeps on you with its personal and light emotional undertones.

Phosphorescence is subtly deft in its portrayal of a relationship between a grandmother and her granddaughter. It portrays without stating – the entirety of the story is the statement. Alice understands that applications of the strict codes she grew up with (“Her granddaughter stared disbelievingly…straight on, in a way that Alice herself would never have dared to regard her elders, especially her own grandmother…”) wouldn’t be useful in helping Brittany overcome her crisis. She therefore lets her own spontaneity connect with her granddaughter’s, and takes care not to spoil the fun in the process (“Let Brittany have something that wasn’t spoiled”). Their shared moment of almost being caught and of escape solidifies their bonding (“For some of the way, they held hands”).

The story’s engrossing prose grows on the reader, and is infused with symbolisms (for instance, “…made their way into the darkness, aiming for the light”) in a natural and unforced way, so that what results is a beautiful piece that demands a re-read for full appreciation. As with most stories whose core themes are simple, everyday human interpersonal relationships, as opposed to “heavy themes” such as war, poverty, and death, it has an understated quality, one that may not be fully apparent from a single read.

Brittany’s crisis is in fact mentioned as if in passing, a brief, almost insignificant flashback. The story therefore is forward looking; a sort of statement that Alice and Brittany’s swimming session is the beginning of a process.

It is hence no small feat that Phosphorescence is able to hold one’s attention from start to finish, largely due to its lovely, almost poetic prose that doesn’t rely on a powerful, haunting or emotionally draining theme. This is its main strength.