Carefully Crafted Cocoon: Chrysalis by Joyce Ellen Davis

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When I saw that Joyce Ellen Davis’ newly published novel, Chrysalis, dealt with a young mother’s experience with cancer, I was disappointed—but only temporarily. The theme seemed to be perhaps too obvious in its dramatic appeal and therefore overused: vibrant, life-loving young woman encounters forces beyond her control likely to bring about her death. Again. 

To say that a theme has been used before, however, is not to say that every writer could handle it as skillfully as Mrs. Davis has done. It is not surprising that the Utah Arts Council judged her manuscript the grand prize winner in its annual literary competition for 1979 and awarded her a grant which made publication possible. This short, artistically written novel grasps the reader’s attention quickly and holds it throughout, making one admire the author, care about the central character and suspect that they are one and the same. 

One of the book’s greatest strengths is the skill with which it portrays in fine detail both the clinical aspects of treatment for a malignancy and the inner state of the patient. The more I read, the more certain I became that Mrs. Davis had a very personal reason for choosing her theme. Her publisher, Olympus Press, states that Mrs. Davis has described the work as “autobiographical fiction.” It seems safe to assume that the author understood from personal experience the feelings of Jody Harper, the fictional mother who discovers, between the births of her fourth and fifth babies, that she has a malignant melanoma, that immediate surgery is necessary and that her chances for long survival are slim. 

This much we learn in the first four pages of the book. The rest is a chronicle, in small, carefully crafted segments, of Jody’s present thoughts and reflections on the past during the year that follows. The principal message is the value and wonder of earthly life, down to its smallest details, which take on a new significance for one who knows that she may be experiencing them for the last time. As the book ends with the outcome still uncertain, Jody reflects, “I respect each hour. I have learned not to waste my time in futile lethargy. It’s a good world and a good life. .. . I hold it as carefully as mortal fingers will allow.”

There is also a lesson here in the meaning of suffering, probably as wise a lesson as can be drawn from the difficult puzzle of human experience. Having achieved a kind of mental and spiritual victory over physical circumstance, Jody concludes, “If I’d had a choice, I would have chosen not to host this hidden battle. I am a cowardly soldier, shy and unwarlike. But I know now that there is wisdom in tears. Pain does come from darkness, and it is pain. Sometimes it is also wisdom.” 

I enjoyed and appreciated Chrysalis for two important reasons: The style is beautiful, and the central character comes through with vivid appeal. 

Each chapter, each segment, gives the impression of having been shaped and re-shaped. From the “fox-hunting, deerstalking, big-game traffic” of the first paragraph to the children chasing each other “in and out of the forest of adult legs” on the Thanksgiving Day with which the book closes, one imaginative phrase follows another. Jody’s free-flowing thoughts are occasionally sprinkled with interesting poetry, and it is not surprising to learn that Joyce Ellen Davis is a poet as well as a prose writer. She also imparts to Jody a wry sense of humor; this saves the book from becoming maudlin.

Jody comes across as a real person. Even to one who has not shared her experience, her thoughts and feelings and the changes through which they pass seem right and believable. She did, as does a person mourning the death of someone else, pass through a series of emotional stages—from angry denial, through depression and fear, to acceptance, hope and gratitude for what is good. There were days and moments when thoughts would ascend or descend into other-worldly realms of light or darkness; others when, despite the gravity of the situation, she was forced to return to the realities of children’s needs and household responsibilities. There were both deep love and occasional resentment toward the optimistic husband who determined to take it a day at a time and keep life as normal as possible, even to the point of expecting his shirts to be laundered and the checkbook balanced. Jody has strengths and weaknesses, doubt and faith, despair and hope. She is human enough to be endearing, but she possesses an unusual flair for living which one feels must have been hers even before her brush with death. 

The other two principal characters— Jody’s husband, Mark, and her closest friend, Jenny—also stand out as personalities, even though we see them only through Jody’s eyes. 

As a would-be writer intimately acquainted with the demands of a young family, I am somewhat incredulous when Jody, the mother of several small boys, seems to find considerable time to lie on the floor and listen to music, to write long letters, to read, to teach a writing workshop, to write a book. But I cannot quarrel with the evidence here in my hands that Joyce Ellen Davis, young mother of five sons, has indeed written a good book. 

Chrysalis left me dissatisfied in only one respect, and it is a dissatisfaction which I do not think would be shared by a non-Mormon reader. Under circumstances which could call forth any religious ideas and feelings a person might have, Jody’s religion, both personal and institutional, remains mostly a mystery to us. Mrs. Davis may have avoided identifying Jody’s religious affiliation in the interest of appealing to a wider-than Mormon readership; I am not sure the avoidance was necessary for that purpose. Occasional clues, however, lead a Mormon reader to understand that Jody has been reared a Saint. Yet there seem to be a number of inconsistencies in Jody on which religion should have a bearing and into which I would have enjoyed some insight. 

We learn almost nothing of her childhood . We do not meet Jody’s parents until

Chrysalis. By Joyce Ellen Davis. Salt Lake City: Olympus Publishing Co., 1981. 170 pp.