Book Review: Outside the Ordinary World by Dori Ostemiller
Outside the Ordinary World
Dori Ostemiller
Published by Mira (2010)
Reviewed by Janna Qualman
A quote from the back cover of Dori Ostermiller’s novel debut, Outside the Ordinary World, offers readers the poignant crux of the story: “Sylvia Sandon always swore she wouldn’t become her mother.”
Time and distance away from childhood have given Sylvia clarity. Determination. The desire to do things as her unfaithful mother didn’t. It’s what makes it all the more heartbreaking when we find her grown, married, mothering—and in the clutch of infidelity, turning into who she didn’t want to be.
Ostermiller’s deep and beautifully-written story of family history, secrets and legacy asks the question: Can one ever choose their own path, or is it pre-determined, handed down as so much is? How does one become their own person?
And at what price do forgiveness and redemption come?
Below you’ll find a question-and-answer segment courtesy of Goldberg McDuffie Communications, Inc.,** about the book and its inspirations, with the author. To learn more about Dori Ostermiller, this book and her work, visit her website.
GMC: You’ve written a multi-layered story centered around the subject of infidelity—as your heroine, Sylvia Sandon, begins an extramarital affair, she looks back at her own mother Elaine’s unfaithfulness. What inspired this story?
Ostemiller: I began the story in my twenties as a type of therapy. I needed to write about the dissolution of my family—the dominating event of my adolescence. But every time I put fingers to keyboard, I’d veer toward invention: I wanted to make up characters and plot twists, weave in a kind of Shakespearean drama to capture how catastrophic divorce can feel. (I figured I was either a born liar or a fiction writer). Elaine’s affair—born from a writing exercise I gave my students—provided a perfect shape for the subtle divisions and secret alliances I’d been trying to capture. From there, it made psychological sense that her daughter, as an adult, would grapple mightily with what it means to be faithful. I’ve always been intrigued by how our parents’ unresolved issues get passed on to us. We acquire their unfinished work, along with the family silver. Ultimately, Sylvia doesn’t resolve her inherited issues until her own daughters are at stake.
GMC: Many women vow that they won’t turn into their mothers, but they inevitably do. Tell us why you chose to write about the close, yet complicated relationships between mothers and daughters.
Ostemiller: I think every woman—whether she adores or hates her mother— experiences that moment when she looks in the mirror (literally or figuratively), and is shocked to see her mom staring back. My relationship with my mother has always been one of symbiosis and blurred boundaries. As a kid, I believed that she had a crystal ball and could watch my every move. There was a kind of wonderful claustrophobia in all that closeness. Eventually, in order to find out who I was, I had to move 3,000 miles away. It was a painful choice—one I sometimes regret. Now, raising daughters of my own, I’m aware of my tendency to over-identify with them, and I have to work hard at letting go. This kind of intimacy is a curse and a blessing, and makes for some pretty powerful dynamics.
GMC: Your descriptions about growing up in the 1970s are spot-on, right down to Sylvia speaking Double Dutch with her sister as a child. Tell us how instrumental this decade was for you growing up in California. How are the Santa Ana brushfires symbolic to your story?
Ostemiller: Having grown up in the Seventh-day Adventist church in the late 60’s/early 70’s, I’m fascinated by how people reconcile conflicting values of church and society. Divorce, for instance, was not acceptable in the church, and fidelity was a commandment, yet we were in the midst of a sexual revolution. During that time, the schism between what God expected and what society condoned sparked for many people the formation of secret lives. I think this was especially true for women in the 70’s—the era of Gloria Steinem and Helen Reddy—as they struggled with massively changing, contradictory messages about duty and personal happiness. The shifts—in family structure, mores, and political climate—felt seismic, and mirrored the apocalyptic messages of the church: Jesus was coming and boy was He mad! The brushfires that rage through the story capture that ominous sense of volatility—anything can happen.
GMC: You were raised Seventh Day Adventist like your main character. How did your faith inform the story? What do you hope readers will take away from your novel about religion and faith?
Ostemiller: Even though I left the church in my twenties, I still feel its influence (good and bad). Like Sylvie, I was raised with the underlying message that the end is imminent. I think this made me even more hyper-vigilant than I naturally am. On the flip side, I’ve always had a strong sense that stories offer deliverance, and that events often play out for the best: if this is naïve, it’s also sustaining. Faith plays a huge role in the story. Sylvie grapples with the conflicting values of her church, family and culture, abandons her faith entirely as an adult, only to fall for a Jewish Buddhist labyrinth builder! And finally, in a moment of extreme desperation, she discovers her own version of prayer. I guess the message here is that, though you might abandon doctrine, and the hypocrisy that accompanies it, you needn’t turn your back on faith, spirituality, and redemption.
GMC: Sylvia is an art teacher who’s committed to helping one of her students who’s an aspiring artist. Is art a passion in your life?
Ostemiller: During my parents’ divorce, I took up oil painting, and it offered a wonderful distraction and catharsis. I loved that I could get lost for hours in the intricacies of a cedar branch or a seascape. Years later, as a pre-med student, I suffered a nervous breakdown and once again found solace in visual art. But ultimately, I wasn’t very good at it. I could replicate anything, but in order to invent something truly original, I needed a typewriter. Writing became my art of choice, but I’ve always had a deep respect for the visual arts. It seemed a good choice for Sylvie.
GMC: Tell us the significance of your novel’s title.
Ostemiller: Outside the Ordinary World resonates for me on many levels of the story. It refers to that surreal, cosseted space that the lovers create for themselves—a kind of illusory Eden. It also refers to Eden itself, which in the story is embodied in Sylvie’s grandparents’ house—a place seemingly immune to time and change. Sylvie and her mother, in their secret alliance, also become separate, outside the confines of morality. Finally, the title reverberates with the messages of the church about being separate from the world, and ultimately, delivered from it. But the only true deliverance for Sylvie lies in making peace with her history.
**Janna received a copy of Outside the Ordinary World from GMC, Inc. in exchange for this review and post.
Janna Qualman is a freelance and women’s fiction writer. You can visit her blog at Something She Wrote.
Makes me want to read it!
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