Claire Adam’s second novel, Love Forms, delivers a profound meditation on the enduring bonds between mother and child, even when those bonds are severed by circumstance and silence. Following her acclaimed debut Golden Child, which won the Desmond Elliott Prize, Adam returns with a more intimate yet equally powerful narrative that explores the ripple effects of a single teenage decision across decades of a woman’s life.
The novel centers on Dawn Bishop, a fifty-eight-year-old woman living alone in London after her divorce, whose carefully constructed life begins to unravel as she confronts the secret she has carried for over forty years. At sixteen, pregnant and unmarried in 1980s Trinidad, Dawn was sent to Venezuela to give birth and surrender her daughter for adoption—a common practice that families like the Bishops used to preserve their social standing.
The Architecture of Memory
Adam demonstrates remarkable skill in constructing a narrative that moves fluidly between past and present, allowing Dawn’s memories to surface organically rather than through forced exposition. The author’s background as a Trinidadian writer brings authenticity to Dawn’s recollections of growing up in the oil boom years of the 1970s and 1980s, when money flowed like water and the Bishop family’s fruit juice business flourished.
The most compelling sections of the novel occur when Dawn finally travels back to Venezuela with her brother Warren, retracing the terrifying journey she made as a frightened teenager. Adam’s prose becomes particularly vivid during these sequences, capturing both the physical landscape and Dawn’s emotional terrain with equal precision. The author’s decision to narrate these scenes in the present tense creates an immediacy that makes readers feel they are experiencing Dawn’s disorientation and recognition alongside her.
Family Dynamics and Cultural Context
One of the novel’s greatest strengths lies in Adam’s nuanced portrayal of Caribbean family dynamics and the social pressures that shaped Dawn’s original predicament. The Bishop family operates within a complex web of respectability politics, business interests, and traditional gender roles that feel authentic rather than stereotypical. Warren emerges as a particularly well-developed character—a man hardened by decades of managing the family businesses during Trinidad’s economic instability, yet capable of surprising tenderness toward his sister.
The author skillfully illustrates how the oil crash of the 1980s and subsequent social upheaval affected families like the Bishops, adding layers of historical context that ground the personal story in broader Caribbean realities. The presence of Venezuelan workers in the Bishop household during Dawn’s later visits creates poignant parallels between past and present migration patterns in the region.
The Weight of Maternal Longing
Adam excels at capturing the specific quality of Dawn’s grief—not the sharp pain of sudden loss, but the chronic ache of absence that shapes every major life decision. Dawn’s relationships with her sons Finlay and Oscar are rendered with particular sensitivity, showing how her unresolved feelings about her lost daughter influence her parenting of the children she raised. The author avoids sentimentality while still honoring the genuine emotions at stake.
The novel’s exploration of online adoption forums and DNA testing provides a contemporary framework for Dawn’s search, but Adam wisely focuses on the emotional rather than technological aspects of reconnection. Dawn’s correspondence with Monica Sartori, a potential match living in Italy, reveals both the promise and pitfalls of digital-age reunion attempts.
Structural Ambitions and Limitations
While Love Forms by Claire Adam succeeds in many ways, it occasionally struggles under the weight of its own ambitions. The novel attempts to cover substantial temporal and geographical ground—from 1980s Trinidad to present-day London, Venezuela, and Italy—and some transitions feel rushed. Certain revelations about Dawn’s father and potential half-siblings, while thematically relevant, sometimes feel like additions rather than integral plot developments.
The pacing becomes uneven in the middle sections, where Dawn’s daily life in London occasionally lacks the narrative urgency that drives the memories of Venezuela or the family dynamics in Trinidad. Some readers may find themselves more invested in the historical storylines than in Dawn’s contemporary struggles with loneliness and purpose.
Language and Voice
Adam’s prose style has matured since Golden Child, displaying greater confidence in sustained introspection and emotional complexity. The author captures the rhythms of Trinidadian speech without resorting to caricature, and Dawn’s voice remains consistent whether she’s recounting teenage trauma or middle-aged disappointments. The novel’s title proves apt—love does indeed form and reform throughout the narrative, taking different shapes as Dawn’s understanding of herself and her relationships evolves.
The author’s medical background adds authenticity to scenes involving Finlay’s surgical training and Dawn’s own abbreviated medical career, while her lived experience of Caribbean family structures provides depth to the Bishop family dynamics.
Themes of Agency and Forgiveness
Beyond its surface narrative about adoption and reunion, Love Forms by Claire Adam interrogates larger questions about female agency and the long-term consequences of decisions made under duress. Dawn’s journey toward self-forgiveness parallels her growing understanding that the sixteen-year-old girl who surrendered her baby was operating within severe constraints rather than making a truly free choice.
The novel’s treatment of class and privilege within Caribbean society adds another layer of complexity. The Bishops’ relative wealth and social position both created the crisis—by making Dawn’s pregnancy socially unacceptable—and provided the resources to manage it through expensive, secretive arrangements.
Similar Literary Companions
Readers who appreciate Love Forms by Claire Adam might find resonance in other novels that explore similar themes:
- “The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida” by Shehan Karunatilaka – for its blend of family saga and postcolonial themes
- “Washington Black” by Esi Edugyan – for its Caribbean setting and exploration of freedom versus constraint
- “The God of Small Things” by Arundhati Roy – for its examination of family secrets and their lasting impact
- “Homegoing” by Yaa Gyasi – for its multi-generational scope and themes of diaspora
- “The Mothers” by Brit Bennett – for its focus on young motherhood and community pressures
Final Assessment
Love Forms by Claire Adam succeeds as both a compelling family drama and a thoughtful exploration of how personal and political histories intersect. While it may not achieve the tight focus of Adam’s debut novel, it demonstrates the author’s growing range and willingness to tackle complex emotional territory. The book’s greatest achievement lies in its refusal to provide easy answers or neat resolutions—Dawn’s story ends not with reunion but with a deeper understanding of herself and the forces that have shaped her life.
This is a novel that will particularly resonate with readers interested in stories about motherhood, diaspora, and the long shadows cast by family decisions. Claire Adam has crafted a work that honors both the pain of separation and the possibility of healing, making Love Forms a worthy addition to contemporary Caribbean literature and women’s fiction more broadly.
