A vivid construction of Frank Lloyd Wright's love

Mamah Borthwick Cheney wrote in 1911 that she had "made a choice in harmony with my own soul" after leaving her husband and young children to build a life with Frank Lloyd Wright.

But sensational headlines quickly intruded on that harmony.

"HEGIRA TEARS CHILD HEARTS," shouted the front page of the Chicago Journal. "MRS. CHENEY'S OFFSPRING PRAY SHE MAY RETURN, BUT ONLY ONE HAS HOPE."

Headlines about the famed architect's abandonment of his own family were no less condemning.

The couple drew dramatic media coverage again because of a horrific event at Taliesin, the Wisconsin home Frank built for them.

These days, with the headlines long faded, Mamah's life and her relationship with Frank are sometimes just an aside in histories of the country's best-known architect. Yet in her debut novel, "Loving Frank" (Ballantine, 362 pp., $23.95), Whidbey Island author Nancy Horan has transformed the half-forgotten affair into a compelling tale of love, loss and wrenching sacrifices.

Horan has brought Mamah to life by combing newspapers, letters and Frank's autobiography, then drawing from her keen imagination to fill the gaps between facts. The resulting character is a spirited and very real woman who wrestles with what it means to be Frank's partner and simultaneously a mother, a feminist and an intellectual in the early 20th century.

Horan achieves a careful balance in "Loving Frank." She leaves no doubt that Mamah and Frank shattered their families when they fled to Europe together. But from our vantage point inside Mamah's head, it's hard not to care about her — especially when she realizes the harm she has done.

Although Mamah's relationship with Frank isn't always smooth, he is her solace, and his unconventional Taliesin becomes a treasured refuge.

"Most astounding to Mamah was the space within; it was a dimension unto itself," Horan writes. "What could be more expressive of the American ideal than a home where a person could feel sheltered and free at the same time? ... It was as if there were no walls to limit her view or thoughts or spirit as they expanded out and out. This was the 'democratic architecture' Frank had been straining to achieve since she'd known him."

Horan draws Frank's character with so many vivid dimensions that he nearly jumps off the pages to stride through the room. Mamah, who eventually comes to see his faults clearly, describes his eccentricity in her (fictional) journal: "Frank Wright — what a joy and puzzle you are. ... By day you dash around here looking like a country squire who has fallen into a pig trough. You sashay out into the middle of construction in your suit, just off the train from Chicago. When you should dress up, you don't. A couple of weeks ago, when we drove into Spring Green, you actually went into the bank barefoot. I sat in the car, trying to go unnoticed, while you went to see your banker dressed as Huck Finn."

Horan writes with liveliness, yet her language becomes artfully spare as she leads up to the shocker at the end of the book. The last few chapters are written and paced in such a way that even if you know the story of what happened at Taliesin, you won't be able to tear yourself away. And when it's all over, Mamah and her struggles are likely to stay with you for a long time.

Kris Gilroy Higginson is the news editor at The Seattle Times