Separation Anxiety by Laura Zigman

I enjoyed Separation Anxiety throughout, but it was only when I arrived at the book’s finale that I came to appreciate its true quality. While reading the first few chapters, I found Judy, the main character, a trifle annoying. An author suffering from writer’s block, she is warm, funny and open-hearted, but if, like me, you suffer from stiff-upper-lip syndrome, also a tad irritating until you allow yourself to get on her wavelength.

Superficially, Separation Anxiety is a lifestyle novel, poking fun at social posturing and the antics of the upwardly mobile. However, I am writing this in the UK, under the shadow of the Covid-19 pandemic. For the time being, an existential threat has turned mere happiness into a side issue, so the first-world problems suffered by Judy, her family and friends seem less important than usual. Who cares if you can’t buy avocados when pasta has become a luxury?

‘Life hasn’t gone according to Judy’s plan. Her career as a children’s book author offered a glimpse of success before taking an embarrassing nose dive.’

My initial response to this was, ‘Please, show me a middle-aged woman whose life has gone to plan!’ This was speedily followed by, ‘If I wrote a book that was one twentieth as successful as Judy’s bird-on-the-head story, I’d ask no more of life.’ But after reading the final chapters of Laura Zigman’s life-affirming novel, I admit I felt ashamed of my knee-jerk reaction to Judy’s difficulties.

‘Teddy, now a teenager, treats her with some combination of mortification and indifference.’

On reading this, my first thought was that Judy should think herself lucky. On the spectrum of ways teenage children find to drive their fading mothers crazy, Teddy’s behaviour hardly deserves a mention. It’s not unusual for a parent’s wardrobe choices to cause teenagers acute embarrassment, even when that parent resists the temptation to wear the family dog.

‘Her best friend is dying.’

I was reluctant to join Judy on this journey, because I was unprepared to engage with her feelings about losing Glenn. Furthermore, I resisted being drawn into her grief at the loss of both her parents within two years. Eventually, recognising and accepting her pain forced me to empathise with Judy’s situation, even after she wrote rude remarks all over the family portraits in a stranger’s guest room.

‘And her husband, Gary, has become a pot-addled professional “snackologist” who she can’t afford to divorce.’

As is often the way when another woman complains about a troublesome man, I don’t altogether agree with Judy about Gary. In fact, I think he’s rather nice. At least, he stays home nights and seems to be less casual in his use of their joint account than Judy is. What’s more, he appears to have his pot habit under control. As for the snacks, everyone needs those. He’s certainly addled, but at fifty, who isn’t? Like his son, Gary could be so much worse.

‘On top of it all, she has a painfully ironic job writing articles for a self-help website—a poor fit for someone seemingly incapable of helping herself.’

My feelings about this statement were ambivalent. On one hand, there are plenty of writers working from home who would bite Judy’s hand off for such a nice little earner. On the other, it is indeed ironic that she gives advice on self-help. Judy is at the mercy of her emotions, and cannot escape from the island of misery where she has cast herself away.

‘Brilliantly tapping into the insecurities and anxieties that most of us keep under wraps, and with a voice that is at once gleefully irreverent and genuinely touching, Laura Zigman has crafted a glorious new classic for anyone taking fumbling steps toward happiness.’

By now, my readers must be wondering why I began this review by saying how much I like Separation Anxiety, when every comment I have made since then seems negative or contradictory. In fact, my feelings about the issues addressed in Separation Anxiety are so complex that I decided to ask the author some questions about her authorial choices. Here they are, with her responses. Thank you, Laura Zigman, for these insights.

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Interview with Laura Zigman

When you created the character of Judy, did you know stoics like me would find her annoying?

‘Funny. I, too, am one of those people who tends to answer the “How are you?” question with a quick “I’m fine!” – because to do otherwise, especially during the decade when everything was going very very badly for me as it does for Judy in the novel, seemed too much of a burden for friends. There’s a firm belief that we’re all supposed to be fine all the time – happy, even – and that’s a concept that I very much wanted to challenge. I didn’t want to sugar-coat where Judy was starting from – and she was starting from a very sad place of loss and grief – a still-point, like when your computer screen goes dark right before it resets itself. We’ve all been there at some point, at least once. Why are we so ashamed to admit we’ve struggled?’

In the novel, you write ‘Where is the vine that will swing me to the other side?’ What is Judy’s vine?

‘In the aftermath of all the loss that Judy has experienced – both her parents have died, her marriage is deeply troubled, her son is now a non-verbal teenager, her best friend is dying – she’s desperate for an answer, something that will save her, that will give her hope to get her from this grim place to one of hope. It turns out that wearing the family dog in a baby sling – something she starts doing almost by accident – is her vine. Not because it provides immediate and clear answers that will solve the rest of her life (What should she do about her seemingly doomed marriage? Will she be able to revive her dormant career? How will she earn a living to keep the family afloat?) but because it buoys her just enough to keep going, one day at time. The comfort of her dog – like a therapy animal – is the vine that will swing her over to the other side.’

Does humorous writing come naturally to you, or do you have to work at it?

‘I think it comes fairly naturally, but what doesn’t is keeping the humor in check so that it doesn’t obscure the messages and themes of the novel itself. There are definitely moments and scenes that are funny, and borderline absurd even, but this time I really tried to go deeper – to not write a situation comedy full of mere sight gags and one-liners. During the post-Obama now-Trump years when I was finishing the book, the world definitely seemed less funny and much scarier – the news was terrible and people were vulnerable, even before COVID. I wanted to respect that, too – to be generous and kind to the characters; to show that we all struggle – even annoying people struggle.’

Did you plan the uplifting conclusion before you began writing, or did it evolve as you went along?

‘The ending was really one of those rare magical moments for me as a writer – when suddenly, out of the darkness of not knowing what is going to happen next (truly, I had no idea where the novel was going after ¾ of the way in) an answer just appeared. It was really a case of setting up the characters and just feeling my way through those chapters: trying to hear and feel what they would do if they were real people. Which of course they kind of are. For me, anyway…’

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What did I like about Separation Anxiety?

The glorious conclusion helped me to realise how much more pleasant life can be if we admit our struggles, own up to our dark places and allow other people to help us

What would I change?

Not much, but as a dog-owner I did worry that Charlotte the dog-baby wasn’t getting enough walkies. Note to self: it’s only a story, silly!

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