Book Review: All That Is Mine I Carry with Me by William Landay

William Landay starts his latest novel with a small piece of writerly sleight-of-hand, crafting an introduction from the viewpoint of Philip Solomon—the fictional narrator of the book’s first segment—that reads as if it’s he, the author himself, speaking instead of a fictional character. It’s an ever so slightly disorienting conceit that wrong-foots the reader from the jump, setting the tone for the rest of this domestic thriller that revolves around the disappearance of Jane Larkin, the lovely housewife and mother of three who seems to have simply vanished one afternoon, leaving her devastated family behind.

Philip is an author of some success, having retired from both the law and journalism to pursue writing fiction full-time instead. As a teenager, he was friends with Jeff Larkin, Jane’s middle child, and had a crush on Miranda, Jeff’s younger sister. As an adult, he’s drawn back into their orbit when the siblings ask if he’ll write a book about their mother’s disappearance.

Not everyone is happy about this, of course. Alex—the eldest Larkin child—thinks this is just a part of Jeff and Miranda’s ongoing attempts to sully the name of their father Dan, whose mental faculties are deteriorating as his Alzheimer’s progresses. While Jeff certainly harbors a consistent animosity towards the man he believes killed his mother, Miranda is more ambivalent. She is, after all, Dan’s full-time caretaker—not a role she would play if she was fully convinced of his guilt.

Philip’s research brings him to retired Detective Tom Glover, the first officer in charge of the case. Jane’s disappearance has stuck with him for over forty years now, in large part due to the relationship he developed with the grieving ten year-old Miranda:

Glover was startled by his own emotions as much as Miranda’s. He was pierced. He resolved not to move until the little girl released him.

 

When she finally unclinched her arms, his shoulder was wet with tears and snot, and he understood that he—his shoulder; his awkward, inexpert touch—had somehow comforted this child. The strange emotion was sinking away, and he struggled to name it before it vanished. Not pity, not protectiveness, not love. It was a kind of covenant between them.

Despite being fueled by this unspoken promise to find out what happened to Jane, Glover soon finds himself running up against an impassable, invisible wall built of lack of evidence and witnesses both. Decades later, he’ll tell Philip it’s as if Jane disappeared into thin air. 

As the novel continues through its four parts, the perspective shifts, unveiling different aspects of the case. Was Dan Larkin responsible for the death of his wife? Almost everyone who knows him—Glover included—seems to believe so, despite there being nothing but the most circumstantial of evidence pointing to his guilt.

Dan himself is hardly the most sympathetic of suspects. As a successful defense attorney, he’s certainly represented his fair share of wife-killers. He also hasn’t been subtle about feeling bored in his marriage. But does any of that translate to being a murderer himself? Jeff certainly thinks this is the case, in the section told from his perspective as an adult, watching his father in court:

It is all predictable TV-lawyer stuff. Only my dad’s strutting, preening style makes it interesting.

 

Unfortunately for Dad, his evident ego seems to put off as many jurors as it impresses. One man in particular–back row, far left–smirks and looks away, as if Dad’s bombast has set off his bullshit detector.

 

Still, I admit I feel a perverse pride in my father’s performance. In all these years, I have never actually seen him in court, and it is instantly obvious why he is so good at his job. He is a murderer, a liar, and a virtuoso lawyer, and these things seem not unrelated. Am I crazy to be a little proud of him? (Answer: yes. I know this.)

While the novel whipsaws back and forth between “did he or didn’t he?” it also presents a sensitive portrayal of perhaps the most complicated kind of family life. The Larkin kids all love their mom, but after she disappears must rely almost exclusively on their dad to help them keep to a semblance of normalcy. He insists he didn’t kill Jane, and each of the children’s willingness to believe him shifts and changes over the course of this emotionally charged, layered novel. More than being just a domestic thriller, All That Is Mine I Carry with Me is also a nuanced look at the devastating toll an unsolved disappearance can have on a family, and the crushing effect that years of doubt can have on the psyches of those left behind.