The three have more in common than their attractions and clothes that need laundering. Each wants a romantic relationship, but is thwarted by old traumas, sexual in nature, that continue to control them. These traumas come to light--and here's where the almost-science-fiction comes in--through the agency of the laundromat itself. The Washing Green is a sentient laundromat, which inserts its consciousness into the body parts of its clients, from nipples to pancreases, in order to explore their memories. From time to time, it also reads their thoughts in the present, resulting in some stream-of-consciousness segments like this one:
...her panties panties panties black and sheer oh yeah ask her out yeah sure and why's that asshole looking at me you fucking look at me you turd sheer black oh yeah and those legs clickclick click clickclick click is that buttons so soft never mind...
How did the laundromat become sentient? That's explained, sort of, on pages 10 and 11. Laundromats, we are told, "are focal points of energy." This includes not only the electricity that flows through the laundromat's wiring to light the lights and make the machines go, but also the energy, the "chi," that flows through the people inside the laundromat. "All these vibrations and emanations mix with the flow from the machines and wires and the magnets in the telephones and meld into this big pulsating energy oneness," the laundromat tells us.
And then one day, a neutrino zipped through me... as it zipped by, it zapped a tiny little subatomic hairline fracture into the time/space continuum in the pilot light in one of my dryers and created an even tinier hole in the fire. It lasted just the tiniest little subatomic fraction of a second before it closed up. But, before it closed, it dripped a little bit of something from far away into the pilot, and presto! Me!
A sentient laundromat is a creative idea, and a novel way of handling flashbacks. I thought, however, that more could have been done with it. Many questions remain unanswered. What is the nature of the "little bit of something?" What sort of place or dimension did it come from? Did it have sentience before it got itself a body (the laundromat)? If not, what was it before then? If so, what does it remember from its earlier life?
Another issue that remains largely unexplored is the laundromat's power, or lack thereof, to influence the people who come inside it. Baxter, Hillary and Jeffry all seem to leave the laundromat better for having been there, but does that have anything to do with the laundromat itself? Is the laundromat a kind of therapist that makes people feel better simply by witnessing their memories? We are not told. Perhaps we are meant to decide for themselves.
The laundromat comes most alive in its frustration. It can eavesdrop on the thoughts and memories of the people inside it, but it cannot communicate with them. It often behaves like a person watching a movie and cringing as the character onscreen makes a fatal mistake. "What's he doing?" the laundromat mentally cries in dismay. "He's not sorting the clothes! White socks, blue socks, red shirt, and oh yeah, look at the collar on that red shirt. That's a new red shirt, what I call a bleeder. And here comes a white shirt. Open another washer, skinny guy! Don't put that white shirt in with that bleeder!" Similar exhortations are made when the characters make bad decisions in their lives. The laundromat does not want either their clothes or their lives to get ruined.
Through the explorations of the laundromat, the pasts of Baxter, Jeffry and Hillary are pieced together. Each character has a sexual secret that haunts them and prevents them from enjoying relationships in the present. Baxter's tale is particularly tragic. Once it comes to light, you can't help but feel sorry for him despite his bad behaviour. In Jeffry's case, as well, it is easy to see why his self-esteem is in such a dire state.
Hillary is another story. I had a hard time believing she would have been so deeply affected and damaged by what she experienced as a child. It just doesn't seem like such a big deal. Besides, it was a single event, whereas Baxter and Jeffry were trapped in harmful situations over a long period of time. I also had difficulty with a scene in which Hillary masturbates to orgasm for the first time, and we are treated to an internal monologue that reads like a Penthouse letter. Such are the pitfalls that await a male writer who attempts to describe female sexuality. I give Mitchell points for trying, but I wonder if he had any of his woman friends read that scene specifically and tell him if the fantasy was true to life. If he didn't, he should have.
Such minor complaints aside, Heavy Load is original, entertaining and a page-turner. It is cleverly structured so that each chapter ends with something that pulls you into the next chapter. The book deals with some challenging, uncomfortable subject matter, but humour and a sprinkling of laundry tips keep the whole thing from getting too... well, heavy.
The edition upon which this review is based is out of print, but may be found at the Fredericton Public Library. Heavy Load can also be purchased, in paperback and e-book formats, from Mitchell's web site: Biff Mitchell