Written by Laura Rock Gaughan
What does an activist owe to her loved ones as compared with her righteous cause? Should compromise ever be considered when the future of the planet is at stake? And how can love survive in a family warped by sudden renunciation and long absence? These are the questions at the heart of The Fall-Down Effect, Liz Johnston’s assured and quietly profound debut novel.
The story opens in 1989 with middle child Fern, seven years old, pressing herself into the bark of a hemlock tree, “imagining her skin and flesh sinking into the ridged surface” as Sylvia and River, her sister and brother, search for her. The family has moved to the interior of British Columbia, hours from the nearest city. The parents, once Vancouver radicals who chained themselves to logging blockades, are at odds over how much activism their new life permits. Fern’s mother continues to rage, mounting lonely protests in a small town where the lumber mill is the biggest employer. She thinks her partner, a Parks employee, has sold out. Stifled in the role of home-schooling mom, she leaves the family.
This conflict sets up later ones. Fern, the child most like her mother, grows into her own rage on behalf of the earth. Sylvia becomes a graduate student of forestry, seeking better data and policies, while River, an artist, makes paintings of the trees. The whole family is drawn to the forest behind their house, in distinct ways. They’re environmentalists, mindful of the impact of their decisions large and small, yet their choices sometimes differ.
In 2001, nineteen-year-old Fern commits a radical act and disappears. Her family debates the best course of action—report her missing or concoct a cover story? As they hide the truth about what they believe she did, the shared secret tests already frayed relationships. When the truth leaks, police begin investigating. Blame, suspicion, and guilt swirl around the family, but what remains constant is their longing for Fern.
The final section of the novel is set in 2020. The onset of the COVID pandemic coincides with wildfires and evacuation orders, leading to a sudden reunion in the home by the forest. The family configuration now includes exes and new partners and grandchildren, but still no Fern. And yet, small signs give hope of reconciliation with their missing daughter and sister.
Johnston’s narrative moves briskly yet feels painterly, deftly evoking small-town resentments, the inner lives of characters, the inner life of the stunning, complex landscape. The rotating point of view gives the reader access to multiple interpretations of events, as a kaleidoscope reveals fresh patterns with each turn. The novel’s character development across decades feels true. But beyond these technical achievements, The Fall-Down Effect presents a life-shattering event set in motion by a desire to save the world from the existential crisis of our time. For that reason alone, I hope it finds many readers.
Sylvia’s teacher once told her that she wasn’t responsible for Fern’s embarrassing behaviour, but Sylvia privately disagreed. “She’d paid for other people’s actions enough to know she wasn’t a free-floating atom. Her family was a molecule, and she was bound to every member.” This could equally describe River’s position. Family obligation—while cause for complaint at times—is a form of love. The siblings’ loyalty to Fern is one of the most moving aspects of the book.
One final question the novel seems to ask: isn’t it a wonder when love overcomes our many human failures?
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Laura Rock Gaughan‘s fiction and essays have appeared in Canadian, Irish, and US literary journals. She’s the author of Motherish, a short story collection.
The Fall-Down Effect publishes April 21. Find it here on All Lit Up or from your local indie bookseller.
