Bittersweet by Miranda-Beverly Whittmore

Warning: This review is going to spoiler the hell out of the book. This is quite an odd book and it is difficult to interpret both the author's intentions and the motives of Mabel, the first person narrator. The whole book is from the point of view of the ugly duckling Mabel who becomes friends with the glamorous Ev and her family. As I grew more and more frustrated with the utterly self-obsessed Mabel I began to wonder if the author was portraying her as an unreliable narrator and if we are supposed to dislike her? She certainly turns out just as unlikable as any of the family she exposes. Everything she discovers is pointed out in VERY BIG LETTERS, like the readers are unable to draw their own conclusions. Birch is flagged up as a bad guy from half-way through the novel by his cruelty to the dog, from there he is only a tiptoe away from becoming a Nazi Art looting father of incestuous children.

Anyway, the first half increasingly reads like a YA novel about the relationships between the young people, and I got increasingly impatient for the mystery element, as all Mabel seemed to be doing was mooning over Ev and her brother Galway (was it me or did he just seemed to be sort of tagged randomly with Mabel? All of a sudden he showed up and fell in love with her even though they had nothing in common other than her creepy obsession with his family?). The second half veers into overblown Gothic with the discovery of the incest, art looting and the murder, up until the horrible end where Mabel marries rescues Lu, marries Galway and the bad guy drowns. It just seems a bit, well, preposterous that everything get tied up so neatly and Mable 'wins' becoming part of the Winslow family.
I think I judged this harshly because with all the Paradise Lost references and some of the techniques she used such as deliberately obscuring the time setting, I was expecting this to be a bit more literary. As it was, I found it quite frustrating to read. 

I know I am no writer, just a woman who has read a lot of books, but in my humble opinion here is what I would do with it:

• Make Birch a more rounded character, not just an evil villain with a mask of geniality. All he needed really was a waxed moustache to twirl.
• Cut down the number of incestuous children to one, two makes it seem a bit overblown. There could also be a bit more doubt about the incest so that it looks more like Mabel is being manipulated.
• Make Mabel and Galway have something in common other than the creepy family, even if it's a liking for flippin' Paradise Lost. 
• Yes, I know it has the potential for being a bit dull and boring, but all that financial stuff Mabel was going into also had the potential for being quite interesting, I'm sure the Winslow's could have profiteered more from Great Depressions and wars, it's just I had the feeling the author was nervous about writing about it. 
• Focus more on Tilde, who is a much more interesting character than Indo, the colourful mad aunt. Indo isn't really needed to prompt Mabel's investigations, Mabel doesn't need a motivation, she is obsessed with the family anyway and an incurably nosy voyeur who seems to be there whenever anybody has sex.
• Change the pacing a little so that the mystery is drawn out more over the first half and it's less about meeting the 50,000 members of the family and Ev's relationship with John. We get it, it's a large clan.
• Change the ending, I suppose I would have found it more satisfying if Mabel had walked away and encountered Galway/Ev/Tilde in the future, subsequently finding that they had changed the family around, rather than Mabel being the catalyst and choosing to ignore everything that had gone on if the family returned the art.  As it is, nobody in this book seems to develop as a character, especially Mabel.
• Don't spell everything out in minute detail, readers can usually draw their own conclusions.This was particularly bad after Mabel discovered that Ev and John were brother and sister. We knew as soon as Mabel remembered that John's mother's name was Pauline, we didn't need Mabel explaining, we only needed her reaction. The subtle elements of the story get overlooked if there are aspects of the narrative that are applied with a paint roller rather than a delicate brush. For instance, the use of Paradise Lost as a metaphor, good, but not so good if it's used too much. I liked the Turtle bit too, but Lu didn't need to become a Marine Biologist.  

Anyway, I hope I haven't been too nasty and given constructive criticism. As a non-writer I don't like slating books, it's just that I thought this book had unrealised potential.

If On A Winter's Night a Traveler

Having been warned by reviews that this was a 'difficult' book I ploughed on, undaunted. And gladly. I sometimes wish that people wouldn't label books this way, although I am attracted by a challenge. I can see why people would hate it, it is like a Russian nesting doll of novels and makes you question the very nature of reading itself. It can mess with the brain, yet here I am in the sure knowledge that I could read it dozens of times and still get something out of it.
The structure is somewhat mind-bending in the way that it is narrated. The book begins in the second person describing how you, 'the Reader' goes to a book shop looking for Calvino's new novel and begin reading it, the second chapter is purportedly that novel, but only the first chapter. At the end of the first chapter, the novel returns to 'the Reader' who realises that he is not reading the book he is supposed to have bought, and the rest of the novel is missing. The rest of the book is divided into second person narrative sections describing 'the Reader' on a frantic, fruitless quest for the rest of the novel, and the ten first chapters of the rest of the novels he encounters, all vastly ranging in genre and breaking off at a plot climax. If you didn't know what you were letting yourself in for, you would probably find it a really frustrating book to read, but there is some sort of plot in 'the Reader's' quest and his meeting of a fellow reader, Ludmilla and the other characters. It could all become too mind-bending, but is saved from this by the author's playfullness and the fact that it is not just one good story to read, but at least eleven (not counting the anecdotal stories 'the Reader' hears on the way).      
It's an extremely postmodernist book and I can see the way that it relates to the dreaded structuralist and post-structuralist texts I had to study at uni. On one hand it would have been great to study this alongside that part of the unit, on the other hand, I'm not sure I would have 'got' it at the time. We can't all be David Mitchell (the novelist who wrote a review in the Guardian describing how he was amazed as an undergraduate but not so much re-reading it). It also relates to the idea of the death of the author in that there is seemingly no unifying 'author' or 'authorial voice', there is the narrative voice of 'the Reader' sections, then the voices of the ten other authors. I can also see how it has influenced subsequent fiction. 
Anyway, hopefully I will re-read it again one day and perhaps study it in more detail.

On finishing the Patrick Melrose novels

I'm so glad that I read this series. I love St. Aubyn's crackling, sharp prose and this is perfect proof that the reader doesn't have to like the characters in order to engage with a novel. The series is populated with a host of unlikable characters, yet somehow they avoid becoming grotesque caricatures, probably through the way the narrator allows us to glimpse into their thought processes. 

You could compare the protagonist with the kind of anti-heroes found in the likes of Martin Amis, Coupland's latest novel (Worst.Person.Ever) or DeLillo's Cosmopolis in the way that he is portrayed in Bad News as being hooked on drugs and prostitutes, yet Patrick transcends this. Although he is not necessarily a character to like or admire, the reader can empathise with him.

The only minor flaw I found was the depiction of the children, particularly in Mother's Milk.I imagine the author had a difficult choice to make here as it really would not have suited the books to have young children baby talking and the reality of life with babies and five year olds. Instead of which the first part is narrated from the point of view of a baby in the womb and this is followed by the children talking as adults, even contributing philosophical ideas to conversations. I had no problem with the baby in the womb part (I've read stranger), but I found the boys annoying. Perhaps this was the whole point.

Anyway, I am embarking on Lost for Words which has so far proved both sharp and pretty funny. I feel like I am coming out of the fog of 'baby brain'. Okay, I will probably edit this review when I feel like I can do it more justice, but I have also started reading If On a Winter's Night a Traveler, which is boosting my confidence that one day I will be able to return to Proust and other crazy things I intend to read.

Within a Budding Grove (Part 1)

I don't know if it is my state of mind, but I found that after the gentle, meandering of the first book this was a little more difficult to read. Perhaps this was deliberate on Proust's part, after all, this is 'Marcel's' autobiography and we are  moving away from childhood.

The book opens with yet another party described in meticulous detail, this time a dinner party given by the narrator's parents who have invited the old ambassador, M. de Norpois over for dinner. It is some time after the narrator encountered Swann at his grandparent's house and he has fallen out of favour with the narrator's family due to Odette. Dr. Cottard, on the other hand, is enjoying the popularity that seems to have deserted Swann. Norpois, as a representative of the politica, is described satirically and is full of gossip about the Swann family.

The narrator is still somewhat obsessed with Gilberte, but is also completely obsessed with the actress Berma. He eventually manages to see her but is disappointed by her performance, only changing his mind about her when Norpois praises her.

Norpois scandalises the family by confessing he's been dining with Odette. She runs a kind of salon where married man go without their wives to meet women from the 'Republican world'. Swann has gone from discreetly associating with the pinnacle of society to openly boasting about the lower class people he invites over, and Swann's own aunt is trying to stop people from assoiciating with her. Norpois believes that Swann is 'not unhappy' although Odette uses Gilberte as a weapon to blackmail him. They seem to have found some sort of equilibrium where she is grateful for the marriage, although he worries about presenting her to the Duchesse. However, Norpois tells the narrator that Odette has already met her husband the Prince four years ago (before she married Swann), who likes her. Norpois met the writer Bergotte at the salon but disliked him so much that he puts the narrator off writing. Norpois offers to tell Odette and Gilberte about how much the writer admires them out of politeness but soon regrets it due to his gushing.

There is something sad about the way that Proust depicts Odette and Gilberte. I think that in one way the reader is meant to look down on them and on Swann for being in love with Odette, and the way that she is depicted is somewhat common and unattractive, particularly as she ages. Yet I think in some ways I sympathise with them. Swann seems to be terribly concerned with the opinions of society and despite Odette's commonness, there is probably something to be admired in a courtesan who manages to firmly cement her position in society despite all the problems she encounters. There is something sad about the narrator's obsession with Gilberte too, as if he can't help but follow Swann's example. Society, it turns out, does not make one happy, and the narrator is swayed by the opinions of the people around him, particularly his father's poor opinion of his ambition to become a writer.

Yet Proust also portrays society in such a satirical way that it is difficult to read the romance is a straightforward way. The opinions of the narrator's parents are not really either the narrator's opinions nor that of the writer. In retrospect the narrator does not seem to be that enamoured of Norpois even though his parents seem to believe he has class and the narrator himself takes his opinions as the truth, he is portrayed as being a bit shallow and gossipy. It's as if the people in the society have a kind of dual persona, the Swann who visits the grandparents is not the Swann of society, nor is he the Swann who is married to Odette giving dinner parties in the salon.

The narrator's ambitions to become a writer lead to major theme within the novel, that of the passing of time, which is capitalised. The narrator's childhood is behind him; his father believes that his personality is now fixed. something which the narrator finds rather depressing.

The new year brings a fresh determination to become acquainted with Gilberte, and resolves to write to Swann. Gilberte confesses to him that in actual fact her parents detest him and believe that he is 'a young person of love moral standard' whose 'influence over their daughter must be evil'. The narrator is rather offended and falls ill with chocking fits. The doctor prescribes caffeine along with whatever alcohol the narrator fancies, including beer, champagne and brandy. Dr. Cottarde then comes over and prescribes purges and milk (his wonder drug of choices), his parents are sceptical at first but eventually he tries it and recovers (due to not drinking more than anything).

Gilberte writes to him to invite him to tea. It is a kind of a parody of an adult tea party. He encounters Odette, who has become a copy of Mme Verdurin. They treat him like an honoured guest and the narrator imagines getting close to them. They are a bit too obsessed with impressing society, however, which amuses the narrator's parents. Then the Dreyfus affair happens, which affects society and no doubt society's opinion of Swann.

Otherwise, he tolerates and is even amused by Odette's ignorance, as the family tolerate the narrator, even though they seem to look down on him, probably because his parents are not really part of society.

Brighton Rock by Graham Greene (spoilers)

This was the first Greene novel I’ve read and certainly won’t be the last. I loved the lyricism of the writing, the plot was gripping and the characters were really well written.  The story is about Pinkie, a young gang leader who tires to seduce and marry a young girl whom he fears will give away his alibi, pursued by Ida, who investigates him and tries to prevent him from marrying Rose.  It’s one of those books I would like to re-read or even study in a bit more depth, but at the same time I found it quite hard writing this review, even though I felt so enthusiastic about it. 

Love this image (link)

 Pinkie is a disturbing anti-hero, yet it is still possible for the reader to feel some sort of sympathy for him given his background and experiences and the fact that everything he tries to do fails. He can be completely cold and feels only repulsion for Rose because of witnessing his parent’s sexual intercourse. He has some twisted ideas about Roman Catholicism, believing that it doesn’t matter how evil he behaves in life, he can still be saved if he repents at the point of death ‘betwixt the stirrup and the ground’. He sees his marriage as a mortal sin, and although he is completely horrified by the idea of sex, he refuses to get married in church as he feels that it will not be a proper wedding if they get married in a registry office. 

Rose could be described as a passive, innocent character in the way that she falls under Pinkie’s attempt to seduce her, but in other ways she seems to realise that she has some power over him and wilfully ignores the signs that he is disgusted by her. There is a sense that she is trying to get away from her parents and takes the only way out that she can find, by marrying the first man who asks her. There is quite a disturbing passage in the book where Pinkie, who needs her parent’s consent because they are both underage, buys her off her parents who don’t seem to care very much about her. He believes that he is taking her in, but she seems to know very well what is happening and why he suddenly pays her attention. She forces him to make a recording for her of his voice so that she can keep it for later, one of the tragic elements of the novel is that she doesn’t realise that although he tells her that he has recorded a loving message, he has really recorded a horrible message for her which she will presumably listen to after his death. 

Ida, is an appealing investigator and almost the complete opposite of Pinkie. Whereas Rose and Pinkie are Roam Catholic, Ida has no real faith, just a belief in the power of ‘Right’ and ‘Wrong’ and a belief in life after death in that she perform séances. She is a sensual woman who enjoys sex, likes a drink and enjoys her food, whereas Pinkie has few pleasures.  

Brighton is vividly described, acting as an appropriately sleazy backdrop to the story, representing heaven and hell.

Pinkie falls over the cliff in the course of trying to escape the police, having failed to convince Rose to commit suicide. It is a bleak ending; Rose seeks absolution from a priest and convinces herself that she has salvaged something from her love for Pinkie through her pregnancy and the love she believes he has confessed on the recording, the reader knows that she has deluded herself. It is left to the reader to fill in the blanks –Is Rose really pregnant? What will happen to her when she listens to the recording?

Love and Inheritance by Fay Weldon (spoilers for both books)

 First, a general update. Although I am doing pretty well on the general reading and keeping up to date on my Goodreads target, I am not doing that great on the Proust, particularly during the half term I have just enjoyed. This week I am hoping to get to a point where I can start writing another section for BIHNR. Otherwise, I have two reviews that I want to write for books that I have read recently.

I have recently read two books out of the Love and Inheritance trilogy. I have previously read some Fay Weldon, but not that much. I admit, I was expecting the books to be a bit more literary and I found them quite a disappointing read overall, although they were quite entertaining and readable, they could also be quite frustrating at times. 

The books chart the fortunes of a rich family at the beginning of the twentieth century, in the first one there are descriptions of both the lives of the family and the servants, but in the second book Long live the King there is not as much description of the servants. The primary reason I think that the first book is a let down is that the family are both quite dislikeable and the use of reported speech seems to remove them from the reader so that they don’t come across as being that realistic. Rosina, the daughter, seems to fair particularly badly. She is a complete prig with seemingly no redeeming features or much of a reason for being the way that she is, so she just puts the reader off. By no means am I saying that a writer should write characters that readers would want to be friends with (as Jennifer Weiner has spouted off about recently), but there should be something that makes the reader want to follow the course of their story. 

To be honest, none of the characters are really that interesting, and I doubted the veracity of Isobel (the wife’s) title and position as a leader of society considering she was the illegitimate daughter of a showgirl and a coal magnate and her parents never married.  They are really snobbish towards the Baums (Robert’s lawyer who tries to save their fortune) in particular, for little reason. 

The plot of Book one (Habits of the House) centres around the attempts of the family to marry the son off to a wealthy meat heiress as they have lost money during the war in Transvaal, and to organise a dinner party for the Prince of Wales. The dinner party is never covered, the book ends on the invitations being sent out, and the loss of money is never that keenly felt. Just as Arthur is about to marry his meat heiress, the head of the family (Robert) saves them all anyway by winning a fortune on a horse and the book ends abruptly.

Book Two opens a couple of years later with Arthur and his meat heiress married (there were some problems as Minnie had left America having had a well-publicised affair with an artist which she had foolishly admitted to Arthur) and the introduction of Adela, a cousin who lives with her strict religious parents. There is a little less emphasis on the servants of the family, and a bit more on the Baums, who I found interesting, particularly Mrs. Baum the Zionist scientist; I think I would have preferred it if there was more emphasis on her. 

There is less use of reported speech, thankfully, but Rosina still gets short shrift. This time, she has a romance with an artist which is scarcely described, I wonder if Fay just didn’t like writing about her? The parts with Adela start off promisingly but descend into a ludicrous plot about clairvoyancy culminating in her saving the King’s life by touch alone. The King and the Queen are good friends of the family and there are lots of dinner parties where Isobel advises the Queen on what to wear and what crown to have created. It doesn’t lend an air of realism to the book. 

Lucky they've got the illegitimate daughter of a showgirl and a coal baron to advise them

Overall, the first book got two stars and the second book got three (out of five). I feel a little bit like I am being a bit harsh here and giving the books a hatchet job, and they are both readable and entertaining, I think the most disappointing thing about them is that there are good books poking out in places, which makes it frustrating for the reader. There is a sense that she was cashing in on Downton, but at least with Downton you feel some sympathy with the characters and the plot is engaging, even when it’s being more like a period soap. I will read the third book, but I’m not in a hurry to buy it or get it out from the library as soon as it comes out.

The Collector John Fowles

Ostensibly a book about a man who kidnaps a young girl he convinces himself he is in love with, within the horror/thriller genre, The Collector also explores themes such as the class struggle in the 1960s, the purpose and importance of art and religion. The book is divided into two narrative voices, the monotonous yet loathsomely self deceiving Frederick Clegg and the journal entries of the girl he kidnaps, Miranda, who writes in a fragmented way, describing her feelings about being kidnapped, transcribing dialogue from conversations and relating her failed romance with an older artist.

It is a difficult book to decide which character you sympathise with, at first it seems obvious that the reader should sympathise entirely with Miranda, but when you read her journal entries she becomes a less sympathetic character in her snobbishness. Syhamal Bagchee (in "The Collector": The Paradoxical Imagination of John Fowles) points out that Miranda’s behaviour causes Frederick to become embittered towards her though her attempts to escape, taunting him about the fact that she sees him as beneath her and assaulting him with an axe, and that this causes him to undergo a personality change which leaves him even more alienated from society and cold towards his next victim.

It’s an extremely readable novel which I finished in about two days, but it’s not a pleasant read because it makes the reader confront some rather unpleasant ideas, and there is a sense that the ending is inevitable. Although Frederick never rapes Miranda, there is a very uncomfortable part where he drugs her and takes photographs of her. There is also a sense that she is almost fond of him at times. I would argue that it is by no means as straightforward as you would expect. 

Anyway, I gave it four stars. 

References

"The Collector": The Paradoxical Imagination of John Fowles

Syhamal Bagchee

Journal of Modern Literature
Vol. 8, No. 2, John Fowles Special Number (1980 - 1981), pp. 219-234
Published by: Indiana University Press
Article Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3831229

Swann’s Way - Review

There is a kind of wonderful symmetry about the novel; I would describe it as being like a skilfully woven tapestry in the way that it all links together. I thought it would be useful to look at in a modernist context. I think that had it been written earlier there would have had to have been more of an emphasis on a straightforward narrative ‘autobiography’ style, whereas the book plays around with time, with language, with devices such as the inclusion of dreams and the use of food and drink to prompt memory or sensation. Nothing is fixed, and although there is a structure to it, it is not immediately apparent, unlike the earlier Victorian edifices, all craftsman built out of the solid construction of plot and character, this feels different. The plot is not linear, the characters are not fixed, and loose ends are left loose. Emotion and description are more important than plot.

It can seem as if Swann’s story has little relevance to the story of the narrator, yet it feels as if his story is the story of the narrator. I don’t know how this will be developed further in the novel but there is a feeling that the narrator is doomed to repeat Swann’s mistakes in becoming attracted to the wrong person. Also, Gilberte seems to be following her mother in the way that she seems to toy with the narrator’s affections. The narrator still hasn’t explained what prompted Swann’s unfortunate marriage either.

Frankly, this novel is a pain to read and a pain to write about. No matter what my estimation is as to how long it’s going to take me, I have to triple it then add some. I’ve had large chunks of time where I haven’t felt like picking it up, then large chunks of time where I’ve felt like reading it quite a bit. I do think it’s worth it, though. I can be reading along thinking ‘where the hell’s he going now?’ then suddenly I get an ‘aha’ moment where it all makes sense. I think it may take me two years to get to the end at least, and I may end up reading another BIHNR at the same time (I’m looking forward to reading Hilary Mantel’s books in particular). But it strengthens my concentration, particularly re-reading it on the Kindle when I am writing it up. I have no idea what to rate it as, I suppose I’d go with a four out of five, the one star being lost for sheer difficulty. 

Anyway, onto book two.