Phantoms by Ros Gough - REVIEW
As human beings, we grapple endlessly with the concept of loss and death.
Loss comes in many forms, but arguably, none are like that of a baby. A miscarriage or stillbirth are unique events heralding the short, visceral sensation of death. It’s a pain nobody can fully understand until encountering it for the first time, but even so, discussions about this loss are woefully inadequate.
Phantoms presents a raw, realistic look at miscarriage, loss, and pain. The story's strength, however, comes not from the events themselves—well-written and gut-wrenching as they are—but from the slow, often meandering journey taken by the characters as they strive to move forward, not move on from the loss. The message behind the book is adamant in that regard—moving on is impossible, but moving forward can be achieved.
The book's primary focus is split between the two female leads: Paige, a young woman just beginning her journey into motherhood, and Celeste, a woman who has long since passed the end of it. Each woman carries a unique perspective on life and death thanks to the experiences they’ve lived through. For Paige, her miscarriage is new and raw; a constant reminder of what she’s lost and a pain which strikes out at random intervals. For Celeste, her losses are a dull ache from the past; they’re something she’s learned to move forward from, but never left behind and moved on from. It’s still something she carries with her, but it binds the two together in a unique way.
In many ways, the two characters serve as a mirror for each other. Paige grapples with the pain of her heartbreak and loss with a loving partner and a supportive family. Meanwhile, Celeste deals with a miscarriage and stillbirth alone, abandoned by her husband for her perceived failure to carry on the family legacy, and with a family that is woefully unsympathetic.
However, what will really fascinate readers will be the way both women adapt and change as a result of the pain they’ve gone through. There are moments where Paige becomes a darkened reflection of herself, driven to anger and rage by her pain and unable to deal with the understandably complex emotions. Meanwhile, in spite of the cruelty inflicted upon her by those closest, Celeste manages to grow and thrive, finding new comforts in concepts and religions that previously would’ve seemed distant.
One of the other hidden strengths of the book is how it takes a deep, unflinching look at the way society views the concept of baby loss. The initial discussions both women have with their loved ones are sometimes forced and difficult, with many stereotypical lines and ideas played out. Concepts like trying to decide if there was something they could’ve done to avoid it, whether it was their fault due to an action is briefly toyed with and then discarded, even though it’s still a very accurate reflection of how we as a society approach the topic today.
It’s clear the message behind phantoms, or at least one of them, is that we as a society need to have a reckoning with the way we approach these topics. Both women eventually find comfort in those with shared experiences, but the act of finding this help seems so difficult and far removed from society. While there are more prominent support groups today, the truth remains that these types of situations are things people would rather brush under the carpet and not talk about because it is an uncomfortable discussion to have.
Looking deeper for just a minute, it’s clear that the book is also making a pointed effort to grapple with one of the hardest things to comprehend within our understanding of the world. Sometimes, it is possible to commit no mistakes and still face tragedy. Life is fickle and unpredictable and can be taken away in an instant. There is a great finality and futility to fighting this, and something we watch through the story is how both female leads try and grapple with this. There’s nobody to blame; there’s nowhere to put those feelings because, ultimately, it was a cruel twist of faith that robbed them of their children.
In spite of all of this, Phantoms is a triumph of theme and character. It is breathtakingly brave in the way it confronts ideas around miscarriage and stillbirth. It is also beautiful in the way the characters grow and develop. Let the record show that none of the themes and ideas we’ve explored thus far are meant to be portrayed in a negative way. In fact, it is just the opposite. It’s incalculably cathartic to navigate this journey, and it draws upon ideas that many women will understand innately, even if it’s just on the surface level.
Perhaps secondary to the main themes but still just as important as the way the book grapples with family. All of the family members close to both characters are impacted by the events of the story, whether it’s Paige’sl husband confronting his role within this journey of loss, or her sister who unexpectedly winds up becoming a mother herself.
That relationship particularly has a lot of emotional resonance to it, as Paige is forced to watch her sister, someone with very minimal interest in becoming a mother, unexpectedly receive the very gift she was denied. Her struggles with motherhood and the resultant exploration of those themes of inadequacy and disconnect from a child highlight that even when a pregnancy is successful, there are still complications that can arise from it.
Ultimately, Phantoms champions the themes of loss and grief while also mixing them expertly with ideas of growth and optimism. The story ends with both female characters not feeling healed and recovered from their losses, but instead attaining a level of inner peace, finding the strength to move forward but still honouring what was lost. This is perhaps the book's most powerful message - the idea that moving forward is often a much different journey from what we expect but also a necessary part of life.
