The Fifth Child

The elements are all too familiar in real life. An eager young couple sets about raising a family, and succeeds far too well. They can not support their own ambitions, whether measured in dollar amounts or in units of work caring for the children. The fifth child embodies a tragic accident of birth, and the fragile sitation implodes.

I don't mean to trivialize Lessing's story - even when I saw what was coming, I was hypnotically compelled to see it through, like the proverbial bird in front of a snake. (I've also avoided spoilers as much as I can, so vagueness is intended.) Taken in literal terms, the story carries a gut-wrenching sensation that's much too close to life.

One step above literality, I parented a "fifth child", or tried to. It wasn't my own spawn; it had been cast out by it's natural parent, the one that hadn't bailed out long since. My concerns for the child were twice the usual: I had a duty to prepare the child for the world, but had a second duty of protecting the world from that child. (That unpleasant period didn't last, and I was truly relieved at its end.) I did not need to grant Lessing very much poetic license to see the fact in her fiction.

If I let the immediacy of memory die down, I can read the story at more metaphorical levels, too. I suppose that many parents have high hopes, before the reality of a pimply teenager sprawls on their couch. Outside of parenting, I know that I have undertaken tasks way beyond my capacity, with some silly faith that things would work out somehow. The more I rely on faith, the worse the outcome.

I understand that Lessing has written a sequel. To tell the truth, I don't think I have the stomach for it - and I mean that as a compliment. She is far too successful in invoking the dark spirits that resemble my personal demons, and no other author has ever come close.


A Moving Story   September 28, 2000
N. Hochman (Alexandria, VA)
17 out of 22 found this review helpful

This book is a disturbing and sad look at what happens to "the perfect family" when their fifth child is born. His name is Ben and he has serious emotional and developmental problems. He was hyperactive and full of rage while he was in the womb (causing his mother a great deal of physical pain during her pregnancy) and once he was born he continued to vent his rage at the world. The book really made me think about how I would handle a similar situation with my own family. Do you institutionalize or not? Do you go from doctor to doctor and find the right medication, or, do you sit back and do the best you can with what you emotionally have to offer?? I haven't read the sequel yet but I plan to. This book is wonderfully written and very moving. It continued to haunt me for days after I put it down. While there were some flaws with the character development (or LACK of development,) it was overall an excellent read.


A thought-provoking book   September 5, 1999
16 out of 20 found this review helpful

Doris Lessing's "The Fifth Child" will be loved by some and hated by others, but it's hard to be ambivalent about a book that evokes such strong emotions in its readers. The premise of the book--how family, friends, and distant relatives deal with the birth of Ben, the fifth child of David and Harriet Lovatt--is soon overshadowed by the reader's own feelings about the characters and the values each one represents. This one is definitely worth a read. Even if you walk away hating it, it will have challenged your perception of "normalcy" and how society should deal with people who "aren't like us".


Abnormality Embodied   October 29, 2001
E. Filardi (Huntington, New York United States)
9 out of 11 found this review helpful

Doris Lessing is one of the most important writers of the second half of the twentieth century. Lessing has written about the clash of cultures, the gross injustices of racial inequality, the struggle among opposing elements within an individuals own personality, and the conflict between the individual conscience and the collective good. However, her novel The Fifth Child seems to bring to light the twisted social an moral values of today's society. Or does it?

Lessing tells us the chilling story of the Lovatts. In the unconstrained atmosphere of England in the late 1960's, Harriet and David Lovatt seem to defy the greedy and selfish spirit of the times with their version of tradition and normalcy. They want a large family, all the expected pleasures of a rich and responsible home life, children growing, Harriet tending, David providing. Even as the time's events take a dark turn, with a sudden surge in crime and unemployment, the Lovatt's cling to their belief that an obstinately guarded contentedness will preserve them from the world outside. Until the birth of their fifth child.

Harriet and David are stricken with astonishment at their new infant. Almost "gruesome in appearance, insatiably hungry, abnormally strong, demanding and violent," Ben has nothing infant-like about him, nothing innocent or wholesome, nothing normal by society's standards. Harriet and David understand immediately that he will never be accepted in their world. David cannot bring himself to touch him. Harriet finds she cannot love him as she should love her own child. The four other children are afraid of him. Family and friends who once enjoyed visiting with the Lovatt's begin to stay away.

Now, in this house, where there had been nothing but kindness, warmth, and comfort, there is restraint, wariness, and anxiety. Harriet and David are torn, as they would never have believed possible, between their instincts as parents and their shocked reaction to this fierce and unlovable baby. Their vision of the world as a carefree and ultimately happy place is desperately threatened by the mere existence of one of their own children. As the novel continues, we are drawn deep into the life of the Lovatt family, and are witness to the terrifying confusion of emotions that becomes their daily life as they cope with Ben and with their own responses to him throughout his childhood and adolescence.

Lessing's plot is absolutely brilliant. It was thought out, detailed, and the setting she chose enhances the story. A major problem, however, is that the novel seems to have left something out from Ben and his inner feelings. We never really get to hear his point of view, we cannot understand his reasoning on matters, nor can we relate to him in any way. Lessing should have developed Ben's character more, and brought him closer to the reader. We're left with an empty feeling, a craving for more. The reader wonders if Ben can understand what he is, or what he is doing. Overall, Lessing gave us a wonderful tale, and was only hindered by her use of character development (or lack thereof).

What is Doris Lessing trying to give us? A reflection of society's unwillingness to confront its own most horrific aspects? Is it meant to be a challenge for us to change? Readers have questioned the reasons for Lessing writing this novel. According to her, it is nothing more than a horrifying, yet realistic, story. I agree with her, and think that this story is only that: a story. Readers should not expect a moral at the end of this tale. Susan Sontag states, in her essay Against Interpretation, that "From now to the end of consciousness, we are stuck with the task of defending art." With this novel, we must do the exact opposite, there is no ambiguity involved. Doris Lessing is able to weave complex stories that are amazingly enjoyable to read. As a writer, she is one of the best at capturing the interests of her readers.


Cool, detached, and terribly underwritten!   July 29, 2000
Theresa L. Matteoli (california)
8 out of 13 found this review helpful

What a disappointment! Here I thought I'd found a book, written by a well-reputed author, that I would find moving or, at the very least, interesting. Not the case. I found myself wondering if the reason(s) I was unable to get involved with this story had anything to do with cultural differences. Maybe I'm a flighty, needy American too accustomed to big bangs and flash. And maybe the British are simply cooler, more cerebral, customers who can approach a topic like this in a stoic, hands-off, oh-woe-is-me fashion. Who knows? There was simply no depth or true emotion in this novel. The author's storytelling was cool and detached as it droned through the story of poor misfit Ben and his family. I found the premise of this story quite intriguing, interesting, and chock full of possibilities. But boy-oh-boy, did it ever fall well short of those markers. I realize The Fifth Child isn't based on fact and that it's obviously a piece of fiction, but so what! I still want to be drawn into a story regardless of its literary category. I can usually find something or some character in a book worthy of my appreciation, sympathy, empathy, and/or contempt. There simply was nothing in this book worthy of that. I believe I stuck with this book to its bitter end because I was certain at the turn of each page the "real" drama would reveal itself and sweep me. But nope - that never happened! I would only read The Fifth Child's sequel under the direst of circumstances. You know, when I first picked this book up in the bookstore I wondered why it was so slim. Now I know why... three-fourths of the story is missing. Unfortunately, it must have been the good parts. I'm afraid I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone.