Day by Michael Cunningham

Published by Random House on November 14, 2023

Day is a novel of family drama and personal failures. Characters behave selfishly, a common trait that commonly destroys relationships. The story takes place at the height of the pandemic. Ambulances race down Brooklyn streets as sirens interrupt conversations. The children of two key characters live in fear of opening a window. The virus will have a significant impact on their family before the novel ends, for which the kids will blame themselves.

Robbie Byrne can’t find an affordable apartment in New York City on the salary he earns as a sixth-grade teacher. His sister Isabel owns a Brooklyn brownstone and he’s been renting the attic rooms from her. Isabel’s son and daughter are growing too old to share a bedroom, so Robbie needs to find a new place to live. Isabel’s husband Dan will miss his daily presence. Robbie and Dan are attracted to each other, although only Robbie is openly gay.

Robbie and Isabel have invented a fellow named Wolfe who chronicles his life on Instagram, adding life-affirming captions to pictures of nature or cabins that Wolfe might want to buy, to the delight of followers who presumably believe in his corporeal existence. Wolfe sometimes posts pictures that were clearly taken in a different season, but his followers don’t seem to notice or care. Such is Instagram. This is one of the novel’s more interesting inventions, although I think it might have been plumbed in greater depth.

As Robbie packs and discards his belongings, he is reminded of his past. Michael Cunningham uses that device to acquaint the reader with Robbie’s backstory: a photo of a college lover who was going through a “gay phase”; a scarf gifted by an older lover; acceptance letters into medical schools that Robbie decided not to attend. A boarding pass reminds him of a death. Everything reminds him of Adam.

Dan is a musician who had the usual rock star problems without the success of being a rock star. He played in bars but never had much of a following. By going to rehab and becoming a househusband, Dan transformed himself into “an affable, harmless man.” Isabel appreciates the change but no longer finds him interesting. That seems ridiculously unfair to Dan but relationships are often characterized by unfair judgments. When does it become too late to save a marriage that has never been terrible? Isobel isn’t sure of the answer even as she comes to suspect the marriage has already failed.

To his credit, Dan does not allow Isabel’s negativity to prevent him from writing songs again. He posts them online while dreaming of a comeback. Robbie is the only person in the household who listens to his music with approval.

Dan and Isabel have two children. Violet believes she sees ghosts (or shadows representing spirits). Perhaps she does. Perhaps she confuses imagination with reality. Violet acts as a reminder that the deaths of relatives are experienced as a family, not just as individual losses. Ultimately, the presence of a little girl who sees dead people detracts from the story more than it adds insight. And honestly, I’m just annoyed by child characters who say things, even unwittingly, that demonstrate wisdom beyond their years. Still, I appreciated Violet's insistence on wearing a yellow dress that no longer fits, despite her mother's belief that yellow just isn't her color, because it was a gift from a character who is no longer living.

Dan’s brother Garth is a sculptor who can’t get his work into a gallery. Garth has a baby with Chess Mullins. Chess teaches literature to snobby students who argue that classics written by white people aren’t worth reading. Chess doesn’t want a man in her life and regards herself as the baby’s only parent. Chess wants Garth to be “mildly fatherly” two days a week but otherwise to mind his own business. Whether they love each other is a question to which neither can supply a satisfying answer.

Garth is a bit needy and Chess is a bit cruel to him. She believes cruelty is necessary because “Garth, like most men, can only deposit his needs at her feet” and ask what she’s going to do about them. Ouch! She believes Garth means well but isn’t up to the task of being a father. Her judgment seems unfair since she’s given him no chance to be a father. In the novel’s late stages, however, Garth’s greatest need is to be a father. He feels “a low howl of loss,” a sense of being diminished, as Chess’ actions make it increasingly difficult for him to be more meaningful than a visiting uncle in his son’s life.

All of this adds up to a typical domestic drama, albeit one that benefits from unusually strong prose. The story makes abrupt transitions, moving to a different place and time as if Cunningham decided “that’s all you need to know about this chapter in the characters’ lives, now it’s time to move on.” I suppose most novels do that, but the transitions seem unusually jarring in Day. By the middle of the novel, Robbie is suddenly in Iceland while everyone in New York is sheltering in their homes. How or why he ended up there is a bit of a mystery. In the next chapter, off-scene pandemic events have made permanent changes to the Byrne family. The transition has caused an attitudinal change in Isabel’s children and in adult characters who “can’t embrace the world the way we once did.”

As is the custom with family dramas, the novel ends with the characters pondering their futures. Most of them have survived the pandemic and their relationship turmoil. The point seems to be that life goes on for everyone who doesn’t die.

I appreciated the fullness of the characters’ creation. I can’t say that I was all that interested in how their lives might progress or that I was sad to reach the book’s end. Still, the characters and their attempts to cope with failure are interesting and their stories are told in confident prose. That’s enough to earn a mild recommendation, or perhaps a stronger one for devoted fans of domestic drama.

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