The Effects of Light

by Miranda Beverly-Whittemore

Found this book the day I went to Portland... It's a great book. It's about a two girls whose family friend happens to be a photographer. The girls end up in the middle of the debate about what's pornography and what's art. It's an interesting story about what happens when a philosophical debate leaves imprint, a scar, on a family's life. There's a parallel story in it, about one of the girls all grown up, and her later life and her return to the hometown...

The book talks a lot about the pictures, describes them and the circumstances, but never shows the pictures. There's an interesting note about how most of the people who concern themselves with the pictures (or at least, some of the key figures) never actually see them.

"The truth is, I may not have a mother who is more than a picture, but I know I have a family. David and Myla - they're related to me, they're what people ask about when they say, 'How's your sister?' or 'What time is your dad picking you up?' But one day David sits me down and tells me I'm lucky because I have more family than just the people I was born to...

We have dinner at Emma and Jane and Steve's every single Friday night, when it's raining, and when it's heat-wave hot, and when there's snow on the ground. You could say I look forward to it, but that's a dumb way to say it. The thing about family is that you aren't supposed to look forward to them; they aren't supposed to make you excited the way a big surprise would. That would mean you don't know them very well. When David and Myla and I go over there on Friday nights, we know we belong. We can take whatever we want out of the fridge and we can wash the dishes n the sink. Emma and Jane and Steve expect us there, and when we drive up, we don't even have to knock."

"'And when Jane looks at a picture of you, she sees a wonderful, beautiful, sweet, seven-year-old girl whom she loves. But she can also imagine the way a stranger might see the picture. And she tries to imagine what a stranger might think. So she doesn't hate the picture. She doesn't hate Ruth. She may not even hate the stranger. But she's scared.'

I ask him, 'Then why aren't we scared?'

'The answer is simple. The pictures are good and beautiful. They are pictures of you and Myla living your lives, growing up. And hte taking of the photographs has become an important part of who you are, of part of that growing up. I wouldn't take that away from you for a million dollars, unless you didn't want to be a part of them... Just having you be in the photographs has helped you learn that you're in charge of your own bodies. That you are in charge of your own minds. Jane loves you so much that she wans to protect you. I love you so much that I want to protect you, and I think letting yu form opinions from your own experience is the best way to do that. So we disagree. But to tell you the truth, I like that Jane loves you so much. I like that jane makes us think about all this. I bet you do too.'"

"'I don't understand, Mark. It's a perfectly reasonable desire: I want to hear why he did this. He broke my trust. I deserve an explanation.'

Mark sighed. 'I'm only going to say this once. But my God. Listen to yourself. Listen to how typical you sound. If I've learned anything about you in the last week, it's that you're truly an original. I mean, you're someone who's actually changed your identity. Twice. And yet you're whinking like every other thirty-something woman who's pissed at her boyfriend. I'm not saying you don't have a right to be pissed, but don't you see what's at stake here?... Rise above this pettiness. You're not someone who's going to let this man go just because of some stupid misunderstanding about a notebook. The only reason you'd let him leave is that you're afraid.'"

"the two girls are together on a tricklng streambed. Theolder wone is infront, and she stands with her feet a shoulder's width apart, her hands poised on her hips. She looks as if she's up for a challenge, her chin set in such a way that ther'es a trace of rebellion on her face. The muscles in her arms are flexed. Her legs are strong. She has breasts and the fierceness of someone who knows the world, but expects a fight.

The younger one is behind, softer, out of focus. She curls on a rock, a dollop of brightness behind her sister's sour stance. At first glance you think she's threatened by the older one's towering presence in the foreground, but then you see that's not the case. You look closer and realize she's content. A smile settles on her face, in the corners of her mouth, and her eyes look lovingly in the older one's direction.

The older girl is a mammal. You see that's she's guarding the younger one from something unnamed. Not the camera, for she's obviously comfortable in front to if, knows her way around its edges. Not the viewer. Or at least not you. If you're looking at this picture, and you're able to see the protection in her body, then you're not the person she's guarding against. It means you have an eye for the girls' well-being. It means you're not the one who ends it."