At first glance, this book is about the life story of Tracy, as we follow her history from birth all the way to her marriage and first child. Using a unique collage technique, the story is told without the use of words, from chronological clues we gather looking out from Tracy’s window at different points in her life.
Whenever I pick this book up, the feeling that sweeps over me is one of nostalgia, and I am immediately transported back into my own childhood. Perhaps it is the fact that the entire story is told through the unchanging lens of the window, giving it a time-series effect that carries an undeniable sense of the passage of time. Or perhaps it is because urban children do not often control their comings and goings to and from the house, and I recall many hours of my own childhood being on the inside, looking out. And since my family home has not changed for the last three and a half decades, I drew an immediate parallel to the loss we inevitably feel when we observe and take notice of our environments evolving over time.
Home is rich in layered meaning and we soon realise that Tracy’s story is deeply interwoven with the neighbourhood’s story, and that the neighbourhood’s story is one of urban regeneration. As a baby, Tracy is first brought home to a grim, crime ridden street. But as the years pass, we watch a process of renewal that occurs, transforming the ugly street into a lush, green space, so inviting that Tracy chooses it as a venue for her wedding ceremony. The window goes from closed to open and is eventually converted into a balcony. Life from the outside is gradually mirrored on the inside with creepers and insects appearing inside the window frame. The window that initially served as a barrier between the two worlds is now instead an invitation for those worlds to meet. There are marvellous clues embedded in the back pages and even on the cover that hint at Tracy’s ongoing part in this, beyond the story’s ending.
Perhaps the nostalgia that I feel is not just reminiscent of childhood, but a reflection of a longing for a different ending to the story of my own childhood neighbourhood. Over time, the neighbourhood I grew up in has become wealthier, more developed, with improved roads and infrastructure. But as we have become richer economically, we are undisputedly experiencing a poverty of nature, of community, and of belonging. Jeannie Baker’s masterpiece provokes deep thinking about the environments we want to live in and to leave behind, and invites us to reimagine the possibilities.
