‘Ring,’ the romance, now makes five
Author André Alexis wraps his famed five-book quincunx with a satisfying puzzle at the centre
In its simplest form, a quincunx is a straightforward matter of geometry, a pattern in which five elements or points are arranged with four forming the corners of an imaginary square (or rectangle) and the fifth in the middle of that square. Think of the five on a dice: that’s a quincunx.
Of course, nothing is that simple, especially for Toronto writer André Alexis, whose new novel, “Ring,” is the fifth novel in his Quincunx sequence. Or is it the third?
As he writes on the Coach House Press website, beginning with the first book in the series, “Pastoral” (Quincunx #1), Alexis has been inspired by the “mystical power and significance of this arrangement” as explored by essayist Thomas Browne “in his difficult but fascinating essay ‘The Garden of Cyrus,’ ” first published in 1658. In addition to classical and Christian uses and connotations, the quincunx is also an element in architecture, astrology, heraldry and computer science.
Alexis has used the form to explore, over the course of five short novels, themes such as faith, love, hate, reason, power and place (among others), with each book also using “a distinct genre of novel,” including the apologue (the Giller Prize-winning “Fifteen Dogs,” Quincunx #2), and the puzzle novel (“The Hidden Keys,” Quincunx #4).
While each novel stands alone, and can be read in isolation, the novels have begun to bleed into one another as the sequence has progressed. Characters from one book, for example, make appearances in another, shifting from background to foreground (or vice versa). Events of previous books are questioned in subsequent books, though never directly enough to forge a dynamic narrative connection between the books. As Alexis writes, “The novels in this sequence of five do not tell a single story. Each tells its own story. If you read them “in order” — that is, a, b, c, d, e — you will not find a beginning, a middle, and an end to a single, overarching narrative. Rather, you’ll find recurring characters, recurring situations, recurring locations, recurring patterns, and, of course, recurring themes and ideas.”
Which brings us to “Ring,” a romance, the fifth novel of the sequence (both chronologically and in publishing order), which occupies the centre position in the pattern (and is therefore the third novel in the sequence). It is, on its face, a love story, between Gwen and Tancred, who meet at a symphony fundraiser at the Gardiner Museum (astute readers will already recognize Tancred from “The Hidden Keys”). After a bumpy start to their relationship, Gwen’s mother — recognizing their love before they do — gives Gwen a family heirloom: a ring, passed down from mother to daughter, which allows the wearer to change three things about their beloved. There are, of course, costs to this (it’s magic — of course there are), some of which are documented in the three books which accompany the ring.
The novel is, on the surface, a delightful contemporary urban fairy-tale, set against a backdrop of high-end Toronto, from the lakeshore to private restaurants, with cameos ranging from characters who appeared in previous novels to real-life figures including poets Lisa Robertson and Roo Borson, and Alexis’ own publisher Alana Wilcox (who is introduced deftly avoiding a writer with a manuscript at a party). While the story of Tancred and Gwen is at the heart of the novel, Alexis doesn’t rest with a commercial definition of romance, also lingering over a more courtly love, true to the origins of the genre. The novel is a wonderful, thought-provoking investigation into the nature and costs of love, what we are willing to pay, and for what.
But there is the small matter of the poem.
At the very midpoint of the book, the reader encounters “Ring,” a poem, one of the books that accompanies Gwen’s gift. In its first line, it introduces us to Margos, companion to the goddess Aphrodite, “a faithful dog and good counsel.” A dog, then, with a human consciousness … Readers are immediately drawn back to “Fifteen Dogs” (which has this notion as a central premise). There are elements of all five of the novels within the poem.
Which brings us back to the sacred geometry of the quincunx: the midpoint of the third book is the very centre of the pattern, and the poem centres the sequence as a whole. It’s not a matter of introducing the thematic elements, nor of summarizing them. Instead, it connects all five novels together in one form: it is the poem that finalizes the quincunx.
The success of a work such as Alexis’ Quincunx series depends on two factors: whether the novels each succeed on their own merits (which the novels here clearly do), and whether the disparate elements are brought together in a compelling and rewarding way (which the sequence clearly does).
Which makes Alexis’ Quincunx sequence one of the boldest, most audacious, and most satisfying achievements in recent literary memory.
While each novel stands alone, and can be read in isolation, the novels have begun to bleed into one another as the sequence has progressed