Monstrous Mother's Milk - A Review of The Fifth Child, written by Doris Lessing
/Written by O'Brian Gunn
(Full Disclosure before I launch into this review: The Fifth Child has a sequel, Ben, in the World. In my eagerness to add some diversity to my reviews, review a short novel, and keep things spooky, I didn’t realize there even was a sequel to this month’s work. With that in mind, I’ll be reviewing Ben, in the World next month. Alright, let’s dive into the horrors seen in the once-perfect life of a once perfect family.)
Cover of The Fifth Child.
American society has been led to believe that it’s the person covered in tattoos, wearing a hoodie, or asking for change on the street corner who has something to hide. In actuality, it’s the suburban family with the Colgate smiles and seemingly idyllic lives who often have the biggest skeletons in their closets. Doris Lessing explores this concept in depth in The Fifth Child.
Our story takes place in England in the late 1960s, a time of love and sexual revolution, crime, rampant drug/substance use, and a general upheaval of what was then-considered right and proper. Harriet and David Lovatt are more old-fashioned and conservative (neither sleep around, both are monogamous), a shared trait that originally drew them to each other. Here, it’s worth pointing out that the Lovatts are a white, upper-middle-class couple - which offers them the financial resources to self-isolate themselves from the “riff-raff” and fulfill their desires to have a large, normal family.
David and Harriet pop out four children, Helen, Jane, Luke, and Paul, in rapid succession - relying mostly on financial support from David’s father for housing and child-rearing costs. While the two hold themselves and their lifestyle in such lofty regard, I found it irresponsible (dumb as hell, really) for them to have so many children without the independent financial means to take proper care of said children. It’s the height of privilege. At one point I got the impression that the two were gluttons for goodness, doing everything they could to hoard as much happiness and good fortune as possible, making those less privileged feel as if they deserve their lot in life and shouldn’t dare to ask for more.
It is when their fifth child, Ben, is conceived that David and Harriet are forced to realize that all the money and privilege in the world can’t sway genetics (not during the 60s, at least).
Ben doesn’t even wait until he’s born before he starts imploding Harriet and David’s shared life. Rather than grow in the womb for nine months, Ben instead thrashes inside the womb, causing Harriet no ending of physical agony during her pregnancy. When Ben is finally born, Harriet notes his abnormal appearance by openly calling him a troll and a goblin, not even attempting to hide her disgust. Ben seems to give in to and accept his monstrous nature and appearance just as much as the Lovatts give in and accept their problematic lifestyle without question. The result of a mother having to care for her unwanted and unloved child (and that child having to depend on such a mother) creates a unique horror story.
There is no bloodshed, no jump-scares, and no main character deaths in The Fifth Child. There are also no section breaks throughout the entire novel, but that didn’t bother me after a while. Instead, the horror comes from living with, caring for, raising, and being terrorized by the monster, the Great Evil. The story dives into the difference between being viewed as a monster and being made to feel like a monster. Ben is by no means innocent; he hurts people, kills animals, and seems intent on destroying nearly everything he gets his hands on. Admittedly, Harriet makes occasional attempts at showing Ben a mother’s love. Is he a twisted manifestation of her and David’s reckless greed for a wholesome life? Does he have a genetic abnormality? Was it inevitable that at least one of the Lovatt’s offspring would be not just different, but radically divergent?
This story made me do a lot of thinking, as all good horror should. One thing I enjoyed was that Lessing never really makes it clear whether Harriet attempts to bond with Ben out of nothing more than feelings of guilt or because she hopes her displays will “humanize” her son. Maybe it’s both. In many ways, Harriet is just as much of a monster as her son (and is viewed as a type of monster by her other children and David), so perhaps her change of heart had more to do with attempting to overcome her own base nature.
I don’t want to say too much more about The Fifth Child, I’ll let you read it for yourself and draw your own conclusions. It’s most certainly not your typical horror novel, and some may say it doesn’t even fall into that genre. One indisputable fact is that after reading Lessing’s tale, you may wonder if your all too normal neighbors have worse things than skeletons hiding in their closets, things that may not be entirely human.
Page length: 133 pgs
Recommend Buy New, Used, or Skip: Buy New (or, as always, check your local library)
Cover for Ben, in the World
Up Next: We follow Ben on his journey from the Lovatt household out into the world at large in Ben, in the World. Does Ben view himself the same way as the other Lovatts, or are his appearance and behavior merely misinterpreted?