The Hill

A Child Reckons With Her Mother's Life Sentence

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I’ve always believed that fiction can hold more truth than journalism or even memoir.

The specific facts may not line up with the author’s experience and the characters may be composites, but there’s an emotional truth that’s pure.

Such was my reaction to reading “The Hill,” a novel by Harriet Clark.

You could describe this book as a coming-of-age story, but the specificity of the protagonist’s growing up while her mother is serving a life sentence is gut wrenching. Instead of the usual trajectory of a child trying to break away from her parent, this girl tries desperately to hold on.

Suzanna visits her mother every Saturday. At first, her grandfather brings her to the prison, though he doesn’t join her for the visit. (Suzanna’s grandmother, an imperious and bitter woman, will have nothing to do with her imprisoned daughter.)

After Suzanna’s grandfather dies, a nun - an odd duck - takes over the transportation duties. Finally, Suzanna is old enough to make the trip herself, taking the train and then walking up the big hill to the prison.

Part of what’s heartbreaking is how routine this all is for the girl. She knows the security drill well, obediently taking off her shoes, walking through the metal detector. She recognizes the nice guards and the not-so nice ones. She mourns being promoted out of the children’s room, with its games and tables, and into the adult visiting area.

Still, she chafes when her mother tries to squeeze into a play tent, so they can be alone together. The two of them are too big to fit. It’s hot and stifling. Suzanna pretends to sleep while her mother watches her.

When Suzanna’s mother participates in a puppies-behind-bars program, the child becomes jealous. Her mother’s focus during visits seems to be on the dog she is training. Suzanna bristles when her mom points out how well behaved he is.

Oh and the trailer visit. At one point, Suzanna and her mother are allowed a family trailer visit for a weekend. Instead of meeting in the visiting room, they instead are permitted to be in this make-shift home sitting on cement blocks, housed within the prison gates.

Her mom can’t stop walking around the rooms, looking out each window and taking in the different views. She takes pots and pans out of cupboards and puts them back again. “Isn’t this nice?” she keeps repeating.

During “the count” they must step outside to be seen by a guard. Her mother advises Suzanna not to fully wake up when she stumbles into the darkness. Her mom guides her through the door by the shoulders.

Over time, the reader sees Suzanna’s mother adjusting to prison, or more specifically - becoming institutionalized. Her mother grows child-like. Routine is a comfort. Suzanna becomes an irritated and bored teenager. Her mother encourages her to “start her life,” apply to college, and enjoy her freedom.

But Suzanna has already lost too much. Her mother has been gone since she was a baby. Her father doesn’t seem to be in the picture. The grandparents who raised her are dead.

She can’t leave her mother. She can’t start her life.

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There’s more to this novel than atmosphere and gorgeous writing. You’ll see if you read it.

But here’s the crucial thing. The book was written by Harriet Clark. Her mother is Judith Clark, who famously (or at least back in the day famously) drove a getaway car in the 1981 Brinks armed robbery, in which three people - a security guard and two police officers - were murdered .

The heist of a bank in Nanuet, New York, was carried out by The Black Liberation Army, as well as four former members of the Weather Underground, a radical Marxist militant organization active in the late 1960s through the 1970s. Clark was sentenced to 75 years in prison - 25 years for each person killed.

Harriet was 11 months old when her mother received this sentence.

In a recent interview with the New York Times, Harriet Clark was asked why she decided to tell this story now, and why she chose to write a novel instead of a memoir.

“My whole life, I knew that my life was in relationship to the men killed in her crime, and to the nine children left without their fathers, “ she told The Times. “And I also knew that any time my mother was in any way in the public eye, that was extremely aggravating to families and communities we’d already caused great harm to. There’s no way for me to talk or write about my life that doesn’t risk upsetting and exposing other people. I have lots of thoughts about the political aspects of my life and my parents’ life, but I can’t bring them into the public realm because I don’t want to expose or hurt people.”

The novel Harriet Clark did write, was not about a woman’s crime, but about a child’s bewilderment.

It’s stunning.