It makes sense that Sylvie Devereaux would work for her mother and sisters. Talented they may be, but her flamboyant artist mother, bohemian Fidelma, fashion designer Vanessa and jewellery designer Cleo, are far too busy creating to get their own dry-cleaning or organise events. Just how the genius that everyone else has missed her is a mystery to all; after all, even her long-estranged father is a respected academic and poet, and her beloved brother Sebastian has won awards for his lighting. The youngest of the family, Sylvie is used to being ignored and taken for granted. Besides, she knows that deep down Fidelma and her sisters appreciate the unique qualities of organization and understanding she brings to her role.
That is until Vanessa’s second wedding, where embarrassing Aunt Mill loudly announces, just as the reception noise dies down, that Sylvie should come and live with her, two spinsters together. Not even thirty, Sylvie’s outraged and humiliated in front of Sydney’s elite. When Seb encourages her to housesit in Melbourne while he’s away, reassuring her that the family won’t be left on the lurch, Sylvie agrees, and in the breathing room provided she finds love and a clear picture of who she is in her own right, out of the shade of her famous family.
Considerably more slender than McInerny’s usual novels, and without her trademark combination of Irish and Australian influences, Odd One Out is nonetheless a great read. The central characters are clearly and sympathetically drawn, the secondary characters reveal pivotal aspects of themselves through dialogue rather than omniscient observation (all show, no tell), and the family history unfolds naturally, with a total absence of clumsy exposition. The relationship between Sylvie and Seb is warm and loving, and the descriptions of his thoughtfulness at a time when Sylvie’s needs were unmet by her distracted, self-absorbed mother and clannish, unpleasant sisters, are like balm.
There’s romance, but it plays a secondary role to Sylvie’s journey of self-discovery and emancipation. Even so, McInerney avoids the obvious – a potential stumbling block in the relationship is removed early and easily (“Much as I’d love to be your brother-in-law, Sebastian and I bat for different teams”), and provides fodder for jokes between the couple.
Most importantly, the reasons for Sylvie’s outlook are uncovered, with sensitivity and subtlety – how betrayals in past relationship make her wary now, how her parents’ divorce and the disappearance of Sebastian affected her, and her transformation is both realistic and unexpected. It was this last that I think I enjoyed most of all – it would have been easy for McInerney to wrap Sylvie up in a bow of romantic happiness, but she chose instead to launch Sylvie on a path of independence and self-reliant power that I found deeply satisfying.
Although my childhood was in many ways quite different from Sylvie’s, I found a lot in Odd One Out that I connected with. McInerney portrays particularly well the layered complexity of familial relationships that are the glue holding this perfect novel together. - Alex
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