Cover of Parade
    Fiction

    Parade

    by Rachel Cusk
    Parade is a novel by Rachel Cusk, the acclaimed author of the Outline trilogy, known for her sharp, introspective prose and deconstruction of narrative conventions. In this work, Cusk continues her exploration of identity, perception, and the elusive nature of storytelling, weaving together fragmented yet interconnected narratives that blur the boundaries between fiction and autobiography.

    The chap­ter delves into the com­plex life of G, an artist whose ear­ly wild years in the city con­trast sharply with her lat­er con­ven­tion­al exis­tence as a suc­cess­ful painter, wife, and moth­er. G’s stu­dio in a grit­ty neigh­bor­hood sym­bol­izes her rebel­lious past, where she lived in chaot­ic free­dom, dis­con­nect­ed from her dis­ap­prov­ing par­ents. Her art ini­tial­ly served as a raw, unfil­tered expres­sion of her inner tur­moil, but as she gains recog­ni­tion, her work evolves into more pol­ished, somber pieces. This shift mir­rors her per­son­al trans­for­ma­tion, as she enters a bour­geois mar­riage with a lawyer who cri­tiques her art and life with moral dis­dain. G’s rela­tion­ship with her hus­band is marked by a pow­er dynam­ic where his author­i­ty and dis­ap­proval echo her par­ents’, draw­ing her into a cycle of sub­mis­sion and self-doubt.

    A sig­nif­i­cant theme is G’s explo­ration of shame through her art, par­tic­u­lar­ly in a series of auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal paint­ings that con­front her bod­i­ly and sex­u­al expe­ri­ences. These works, ini­tial­ly grotesque and porno­graph­ic, even­tu­al­ly become a means of lib­er­a­tion, allow­ing her to exter­nal­ize and dis­solve her shame. Her gal­lerist, an ugly yet kind man, plays a piv­otal role in legit­imiz­ing her work, help­ing her reframe her “unac­cept­abil­i­ty” as artis­tic strength. How­ev­er, her mar­riage intro­duces new ten­sions, as her husband’s crit­i­cism sev­ers her con­nec­tion to her gal­lerist and iso­lates her from her artis­tic peers. G’s preg­nan­cy and moth­er­hood fur­ther com­pli­cate her iden­ti­ty, as she grap­ples with the soci­etal expec­ta­tions of fem­i­nin­i­ty and the vis­cer­al bond with her daugh­ter, which becomes both a source of rev­e­la­tion and con­flict.

    The nar­ra­tive also shifts to Mann’s farm, a decay­ing yet myth­ic place where time seems sus­pend­ed. The farm, once a utopi­an com­mu­ni­ty, now reflects neglect and failed ide­al­ism, with Mann entan­gled in local pol­i­tics while his wife main­tains order amidst chaos. The descrip­tions of the landscape—wild, untamed, and watched by an omi­nous mountain—mirror G’s inter­nal strug­gles. The farm’s dis­ar­ray par­al­lels G’s stu­dio in her wild years, sug­gest­ing a broad­er com­men­tary on cre­ativ­i­ty and con­trol. Johann, a Ger­man teacher liv­ing on the farm, recounts its his­to­ry, empha­siz­ing Mann’s futile bat­tle against moder­ni­ty and his wife’s qui­et resilience. The farm becomes a metaphor for lost dreams and the ten­sion between preser­va­tion and decay.

    The chap­ter cul­mi­nates in G’s frac­tured fam­i­ly life, where her hus­band usurps her role as a moth­er, leav­ing her alien­at­ed from her daugh­ter. The kitchen becomes a stage for their per­for­ma­tive domes­tic­i­ty, with G increas­ing­ly side­lined. Her art, once a refuge, now reflects her emo­tion­al exile, as she chan­nels rage and com­pe­tence into her work. The final scenes at Mann’s farm—with its eerie, observed landscapes—echo G’s sense of being scru­ti­nized and judged, both by soci­ety and her own con­science. The chap­ter weaves togeth­er G’s artis­tic jour­ney and the farm’s decline, illus­trat­ing how per­son­al and cre­ative auton­o­my are erod­ed by exter­nal expec­ta­tions and the weight of his­to­ry.

    FAQs

    • 1. What is the significance of the mother's death in Chapter 2?
    • The mother's death serves as both a literal and symbolic rupture. Her lifelong performance of suffering—through self-inflicted illness, exaggerated fragility, and manipulative storytelling—collapses in the face of mortality. The chapter suggests that her death exposes the hollowness of her constructed identity, forcing her children to confront the "double loss" of never truly knowing her.
    • ​2. Why does no one cry at the funeral?
    • The absence of conventional grief reflects the family's emotional exhaustion. The mother's relentless mythmaking (rewriting her past, controlling narratives) left no space for authentic connection. The funeral's silence mirrors the void she created—a performance of mourning would have been another lie.
    • ​3. How does the phrase "If it only happened once, it didn't happen at all" resonate in this chapter?
    • This line, spoken by Betsy during a dinner scene, underscores the instability of memory. The mother relied on repetition to enforce her version of reality (e.g., retelling stories to cement her victimhood). The children's inability to mourn collectively suggests that singular events—like her death—hold no weight against her lifelong fabrications.
    • ​4. What does the mother's attempted "walking" before death symbolize?
    • After years of feigned paralysis (a metaphor for her refusal to engage with reality), her sudden effort to stand is a futile reckoning. It mirrors her final, desperate grasp at agency—but her body, like her relationships, had long been a site of sabotage.

    Quotes

    • On the Mother's Self-Destruction
    • "She had allowed it to decay all around her, in her pursuit of limitlessness."
    • ​Analysis: The mother's physical decline (obesity, illness) was a perverse assertion of control. By rejecting societal norms of health, she sought absolute freedom—yet her decay trapped her in a self-made prison.
    • ​2. The Funeral's Uncanny Silence
    • "No one cried at her death... as though at the sight of death being surprised in the act of stealing from life."
    • ​Analysis: Death here is a thief caught mid-act. The family's numbness highlights how the mother's emotional theft (draining intimacy through manipulation) made her actual death feel like an afterthought.
    • ​3. The Mother's Posthumous Presence
    • "She was giant and doll-like, an inflated unclothed figure moving robotically... It was her true face, the one we had never seen."
    • ​Analysis: In dreams, the mother appears grotesque and mechanical—a stark contrast to her curated persona. This "true face" reveals the emptiness beneath her performances.
    • ​4. The Illusion of Control
    • "She mistook death for a compliment, and when finally she realised that this dark stranger was not a prince but an assassin, she struggled vainly to get away."
    • ​Analysis: The mother romanticized death as a final validation, only to discover its indifference. The metaphor of the "assassin" underscores her lifelong delusion of being the protagonist in her own drama.
    • ​5. The Children's Liberation
    • "We were free simply from the conundrum of this double loss: of something we had never had."
    • ​Analysis: Their "freedom" comes from recognizing that the mother they mourned never existed. The real loss is the absence of an authentic relationship—a void they can now acknowledge.

    Quotes

    On the Mother's Self-Destruction

    FAQs

    1. What is the significance of the mother's death in Chapter 2?
    Note