JOAN BARFOOT

The Idyll Inn, the setting for Joan Barfoot's brilliant eleventh novel, Exit Lines, is a pastel-hued care facility designed for seniors "with healthy incomes but varying hopes, despairs, abilities and deformities." In scathing detail, Barfoot describes the Idyll Inn's plastic plants, inoffensive art and pallid recreational activities, all familiar to any reader who has had occasion to visit such a place -- or to live in one. Running the show (or so she thinks) is priggish administrator Annabelle Walker, charged with keeping the residents happy, or at least as happy as is required to keep a tidy profit flowing to far-away investors. But not all residents of the Idyll Inn choose to acquiesce. Sylvia Lodge, one of the Idyll Inn's first residents, prides herself on her steely backbone, despite crippling arthritis. Affluently widowed, she has selected the Idyll Inn as a less objectionable alternative to a perilous dwindling at home. She coolly refuses to be bossed, certainly not by Annabelle Walker (about whose family Sylvia keeps a dark secret), or by her estranged daughter, Nancy, from whom she keeps yet another, even more explosive, secret. Sylvia is determined to unapologetically lay claim to her lifetime of choices, responsibilities and blame, not yet aware that her icy solitude will shortly be broken by the company of three soon-to-be-intimate friends. Given the facility's small population, the Idyll Inn's new inhabitants are bound to have crossed paths. And indeed many have. Wheelchair-confined George Hammond, once a handsome shoe store--owner with a stay-at-home wife and adored daughter, long ago cupped Sylvia's feet in his hands and admired her well-formed calves. He has done far more with Greta Bauer, his former clerk, whose loneliness as a young immigrant widow with children rendered her available for a comfortable and seemingly uncomplicated affair. Now deposited under the same roof by absent children, the former lovers are in a position to reflect on the consequences of their choices. Completing the newly formed coterie of friends is tiny Ruth Friedman, a retired Children's Aid worker who keeps many of the city's darkest secrets, and whose passionate late-in-life marriage to fellow social worker Bernard did not include children of their own. Now also widowed, her grief unfathomably deep, she has taken to cheerfully rea

Ive never read a book so authentically frightening . . . Beneath the radical disquiet is a beautiful hymn to the undeniable hearts and minds of women. Sarah HallI absolutely loved it: so thought-provoking and complex, but also full of moments of beauty and peace. Abras dilemma electrified me. An extraordinary novel. Katherine MayA joyful and generative novel about running away to make a new home for a new self.Sarah MossI swear I loved them all, and I did the best I could. And then I left them, left all of it.Abra has a perfect-seeming life as a wife and mother: until one day, she walks away, leaving only a note asking her family not to look for her. In a woodland cabin, her new life alone begins. There are no mirrors, no clocks, no memories: just the squirrels breathing in the forest, and silence of vegetables growing. Years later, a young woman arrives, and the past-flashes begin. Daughter? A strange word. Is this her? And what will this mean?Rediscovered after almost half a century, Joan Barfoots Gaining Ground (1978) is a both a radical meditation on living on your own terms and an exquisite work of art. It calls to anybody who has ever wanted to escape - who has asked what it costs to be wild, to be sane, to be free.