REVIEW: ‘Hospice’ by Gregory Howard

Gregory Howard’s debut novel, Hospice, takes place in a world which we all know. This isn’t the linear world of fiction that most literary works take place in, but it’s not far away from it either. It’s a look into the underlying anxiety of these worlds, the bottom crust of our world that not many people talk about, the weirdness of the white-picket fences and empty homes, the uncomfortableness in society that everyone takes for granted. The weird who are usually shunned are given a voice, this is the world that Hospice lives in. The place that we are familiar in, the place that we pretend doesn’t exist.

Hospice follows the story of Lucy as she navigates through her life. Lucy is someone who stumbles through life, the kind of person who would go through school without anyone signing her year book, the kind of person who is perfect to lead this story. Lucy is not only confronted by the challenges that face her across the path of the main narrative, but also the flashbacks to a childhood where her brother went missing, only for everyone to rejoice when he returns – but does he really? Lucy doesn’t recognize the person she would play games with, who now acts and feels different. This is Lucy knowing confusion in her life at a young age, the kind that doesn’t stop at the opening of the novel when she gets a job to look after an imaginary dog.

One of the most exciting things about this novel, past the beautifully written prose that shows the blankness in Lucy’s life and the space around her, is the anxiety that is the underlying tone in the novel. Children speak in riddles and obscure dialogue choices by health workers and casual civilians mean that there is rarely a normal sentence spoken in this novel. This anxiety is never distracting, if anything all it does is compliment the emotions and experiences that happen to Lucy. It also means that we never approach something with good perceptions, in the same way that an eleven year-old reads sexual innuendos into everything. The anxiety is the frequency that resides in the bottom of the stomach, like a thriller film. It feels like the first time we watch Mulholland Drive, the scene with the diner and awaiting the homeless man, as we approach the big reveal, knowing what will happen, we feel it in the parts of us reserved for fear and guilt.

Hospice is a wonderful trip into the surreal. It’s like going down the rabbit hole of the weirdest parts of suburbia, the parts where there is so much space that weirdness breeds itself, not occupied by people and currency like in the city. This is a story that will haunt your brain, language and imagery that will sit behind your eyes so that you see everything through this distorted wavelength, making you feel like you’re never home. Maybe you won’t remember what home is after reading.