The Past is Ever-Present in Ross Macdonald’s The Goodbye Look
The intricacies of a family dynamic can be simply fascinating. Ross Macdonald explores a few recognizable intricacies in his novel The Goodbye Look, as multi-generational tales weave throughout what begins as a simple theft investigation. A self-identified amateur counselor (17-18), Macdonald’s detective Lew Archer encounters more than he bargains for with each new threshold he crosses. Archer is more of an observer than a detector, and he observes each family with an overlying assumption about all families. Children, no matter what age, remain children in the eyes of their parents. Macdonald shows the reader that parents and children share both a reciprocal blessing and curse: they provide a mirror image, they taunt, and they disappoint.
Nick, son of wealthy Irene and Larry Chalmers, should want for nothing, yet he is troubled. Nick’s parents cannot help but feel at fault, and turn a mirror on themselves to look for clues. Irene Chalmers admits that she and her husband have spent “thousands of dollars” (13) on their disappearing son over the years, between Pinkerton sleuths and psychiatry. And why not: he is their precious boy. Larry knows what it is to love a son and be loved by a dad. Irene says that her husband “still worships the ground his father walked on” (10) and “used to read [his war correspondence letters] aloud to Nick.” Larry sees much of his own personality in Nick, noting in one instance, “I suppose he got it by osmosis from me” (58). Lawyer John Truttwell suggests a historical and reciprocal mirror: “I think [Nick] idolizes his father, but feels he can’t measure up. Which is exactly how Larry Chambers felt about his own father, the Judge” (60). In the case of the Chalmers family, Macdonald shows us that the family mirror is more of a reflecting pool, with ripples that echo throughout.
Mirrors can reflect and repeat other behaviors, such as cruelty – the urge to taunt. Kids can be so cruel, as the saying goes, but so can parents. Not to pile on the aphorism, but, “you always hurt the one you love” is cliché for a reason. Macdonald especially displays this behavior in the mother-daughter relationship of Jean and Louise. The reader doesn’t need to see this family confrontation to recognize it; nearly two pages of dialogue are simply overheard as the women hiss and spit their words. “You better take my advice” (72), Louise cautions, and, “You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you?” (73), flies accusingly from her lips. Louise warns, “‘Don’t think you’re coming back to live with me,’ to which Jean snaps, ‘I wouldn’t stay if you begged me on your knees’” (73). Interestingly, not a half-page later, Jean herself begs to stay. Button-pushing is a generational inheritance. It is no coincidence that Jean refers to her missing father as “Daddy” throughout, though she’s nearly 40 years old. The childlike “Daddy” invokes a protector – a noble man cherished by his brood. “I’m going to find my Daddy” (75), she says, knowing it must drive her mother crazy. Giving the man who abandoned his family such a precious title is a deep cut, indeed. Children and parents have reciprocal ability to taunt, and it cuts both ways.
Macdonald provides a good amount of family disappointment and regret for every family unit in the novel. After her daughter’s death, Louise reflects “Poor Jean and I could never get along,” followed closely by “Jean should have listened to me” (134). Though Irene claims, “It doesn’t show but [John is] terribly emotional, especially where Nick is concerned” (64), John Chalmers later cautions his suicidal son, “You’ve got to act like a man” (57). Disappointment even purposefully rears its head, as in Betty’s admission that she intends to marry Nick “whether my father wants me to or not. I’d naturally prefer to have his approval” (23). A family unit is just that – a unit – as pointed out by John Chalmers: “I talked about our need to stick together” (91). Notice the word chosen is need, not want. That need creates the ties that bind, and that need can bring inevitable disappointment.
Macdonald weaves webs of family dysfunction throughout The Goodbye Look, and the reader familiarly nods. Personally, I certainly do. I am an only child, and there are many family dynamics I will never understand. I will never know a sibling, have to share a room, or even a piece of gum. To my now 80-year-old mother I will always be both her oldest and only, and I will always be her baby. I am a grown woman, yet she worries for my safety, offers to pay for flights home, and would speak to me daily by phone if I allowed it. She drives me nuts, and I return the favor – less so now with age. Macdonald gives us a glimpse of families which we may recognize or not, but families just the same. So it goes with all parent-child relationships: we are theirs and they are ours – scars and all – for better or for worse.
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