Stepping out of comfort zone comes with positives, pitfalls

The pressure to be successful (or appear so) in today’s society is all too real. A few minutes online will show you that your job isn’t making you enough money, your house isn’t perfectly curated and you don’t have a million followers.

In her new novel Definitely Thriving, Kerry Clare asks us to redefine what “thriving” actually means — or, more specifically, what else it could mean.

Clare is the Toronto author of three previous novels and a blog entitled Pickle Me This. Her essays have been nominated for the National Magazine Award, and she is the editor of the literary website 49th Shelf and the book The M Word: Conversations About Motherhood.

At first glance, Clemence Lathbury is definitely not thriving. She’s self- sabotaged herself out of her marriage, and is now residing in a run-down studio flat with a hot plate instead of a stove — a glorified “nun’s cell,” as she puts it. She’s also out of work.

But it’s all part of a plan. She’s returned to her hometown of Toronto after having been away for a decade, determined to reinvent herself and her life “to become one of those excellent women that Barbara Pym wrote about in her mid-century novels, helping out at church bazaars, fortified with a nice mug of Ovaltine.”

Ovaltine aside, perhaps if she does penance in her decrepit studio apartment, she’ll discover the road to excellence: “Mild depravity and lumpy beds — could this be the road to excellent womanhood?”

Definitely Thriving looks at what can happen if we step outside our comfort zone — whether purposefully or not — and begin anew. It’s a funny, lighthearted read that isn’t trying too hard to be anything else. Clare’s characters are ridiculous but endearing for all their quirks, and Clemence herself, a lovable hot mess, still manages to inspire.

The road to excellent womanhood involves learning to be alone. Clemence has never lived alone before, and her friends are worried about her, not least because her sole companion seems to be a one-eyed cat who wanders into her apartment through the balcony door. But Clemence feels free, particularly of her marriage, which felt like a prison.

Soon, though, she’s making acquaintances: her suspicious but well-meaning landlady, Mrs Yeung; Crampton, the landlady’s son with the great biceps; the surly cashier at the corner store; and Toby, the “pale book man” at the used bookstore, which she begins to frequent, if only to advise them that they need a section devoted to women’s fiction.

In doing so, Clemence somehow earns herself a part-time job reorganizing the books and (spoiler alert) a quasi- relationship with Toby. Readers may find this attraction difficult to digest; Clemence finds Toby rude, and is concerned he is malnourished. Nonetheless, she enters into an attachment with him — which, though it remains undefined, brings her a kind of peace.

As does her new life. The apartment with the stained ceiling and hallways that smell are somehow enough. Clemence comes to this realization even as she struggles to sever ties with her ex-husband.

The life she has now may not be much, but she has chosen it, even the hard parts. Sometimes when we stop ourselves from just going through the motions, real life steps in.

Lindsay McKnight works in the arts in Winnipeg and is partial to Ovaltine.