Carleigh Baker Reviews Lynn Coady's Watching You Without Me

Lynn Coady. Watching You Without Me. House of Anansi. $22.95. 367 pp. ISBN 9781487006884

Lynn Coady’s Watching You Without Me is many things, but primarily it is a story about the lives of women. Contrary to what the patriarchy might have you believe, women’s lives are great material for a literary thriller. The voice of Karen—called back to her hometown after her mother’s death—is so relatable it’s easy to imagine readers shouting a definitive “yes!” in libraries and living rooms across the country. And as Coady turns her lens on the precariousness of women’s basic personal safety, a deeper tension emerges. 

After years of keeping her domineering mother at arm’s length, Karen must do a post mortem on their fraught relationship. She also inherits the role of caregiver for her sister Kelli, who has a developmental disability. In an instant, Karen’s world has become very complex, from macro-tasks like arranging for the sale of her childhood home, to the micro-management of Kelli’s needs. For the latter, the aid of Kelli’s support workers at first seems like a gift. But things take a dark turn when Trevor—one of the workers—oversteps his boundaries. 

A former winner of the Scotiabank Giller Prize, Coady has her storytelling chops on full display here. Delivered in the 20/20 vision of Karen’s hindsight – “What was wrong with you, friends always ask when I get to this part of the story,” – the novel is a psychological deep dive. Grief itself is a powerful antagonist, with its ability to decimate good judgement while simultaneously gifting its victims with an almost superhuman resilience. But beyond Karen’s grief, or perhaps in grim partnership with it, is the social necessity that trains women to placate and play under abusive men. Even potentially abusive men. Her vigilant assessment of Trevor’s every move begins long before he presents as an obvious threat, and gradually develops into full blown behaviour management: “The smart thing to do, and I knew how to do it now, was soothe and appease. All I had to say was that Trevor was right. That I had gone about things all wrong.” 

Karen makes mistakes, a lot of them, and as with a woman in a horror film descending into the basement holding a flickering candle, readers are stuck on this ride with her. But while we all shake our heads at the bad choices of the former, it is chillingly easy to imagine being in Karen’s shoes. 

Because of the depth of its characters, expertly rendered by Coady, Watching You Without Me avoids stereotypes and revels in the grey area of human interaction. Trevor is not a moustache-twirling villain, and Karen herself is no angel—her moments of selfishness and self-absorption lead to painful situations for Kelli that are, at times, difficult to read. And through it all, the lingering presence of their mother—perhaps the most nuanced character in the book—drives a scavenger hunt of memory and messy emotion that is achingly, beautifully human.

Carleigh Baker is an nêhiyaw âpihtawikosisân /Icelandic writer who lives as a guest on the unceded territories of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm, Skwxwu7mesh, and səl̓ilwəta peoples. Her debut story collection, Bad Endings, won the City of Vancouver Book Award, and was also a finalist for the Rogers Writers’ Trust Fiction Prize.