Saturday, May 21, 2016

Review: Lewis Percy

[Number 9 in my chronological re-read of all of Brookner's 24 novels.]

When people ask me where they should start with Brookner, I never know quite what to tell them. Part of the problem is that after having read all 24 or them over the course of about a decade, I didn't really remember enough detail about any of them to really provide a recommendation. I would often default to Hotel du Lac merely because it was her best known and had won the Booker Prize.

Now that I am nine books into my re-reading of all of Brookner's novels I can say I am much more aware of the differences in the stories and much more appreciative of the variety and depth of her output. And perhaps no more so than with Lewis Percy. And I think, out of her first nine novels, Lewis Percy is a fantastic place to start. Slightly more plot driven than her other novels and with a much younger protagonist.

Our eponymous hero is a 20-something scholar working on his doctoral thesis in Paris. Not long after Lewis returns to London from his year in France, his mother dies and he finds himself a bit untethered. Perhaps having read too much of his mother's kind of fiction he comes up with a romantic, heroic, and ultimately misguided, notion that he is going to transform Patricia "Tissy" Harper, a young, virginal, agoraphobic librarian, into something much greater by marrying her. I don't have to tell you that things don't really work out that way.

Acting the part of the perfect Edwardian wife--albeit in the 1960s--Tissy achieves an outward transformation with updated clothes and hair befitting her age and the era, but it doesn't translate much beyond that. Not necessarily aware of the paternalistic idiocy of his plan Lewis senses the failure of his marriage but figures he has made his bed and needs to be faithful. Despite falling in love with Emmy, his gay best friend's actress sister, he repels her advances only to have Tissy believe he was unfaithful. She flees back to her mother's house, Lewis tries to be a responsible absent father, and no one is happy. Eventually Tissy finds her emotional feet, Emmy and Lewis realize they can't be together, and Lewis gets a generous academic job offer in the U.S.

And that, my friends, is a lot of action for a Brookner novel. Although her characters are fabulously old fashioned, I also loved Brookner taking on younger characters and nodding to the swinging 60s. In Lewis Percy the reader gets the opportunity to experience a hopeful ending while getting lashings of introspective, complacent, ennui typical of Brookner's characters. This could be the gateway drug of Brookner novels.

(On a completely unrelated note and apropos of nothing, I also loved the advent of the computer at the library where Lewis worked for years on an index (of what I don't recall). Lewis is unsure if he wants to stick around to learn the new technology. In trying to convince Lewis to embrace the future and the future of the index, his boss makes this fabulous statement:
'But my dear fellow!' exclaimed Goldsborough. 'This will be the index's finest hour!'
As with Pym's No Fond Return of Love, I do love an index in a novel.)

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

A Personal Tribute to Anita Brookner

The following personal tribute to Anita Brookner was written by blogger A Super Dilettante. Reposted with permission.

"Anita Brookner: of all the younger generation known to me, the rarest in quality both as friend and writer." Rosamond Lehmann
(Image credit: Rosamond Lehmann's Album, Chatto & Windus, 1987)
When I heard the news that the writer, Anita Brookner has died, on the wireless this morning, I felt as though I had lost the greatest teacher in my life. Although the majority of people in the literary world know her as a writer, Anita Brookner first came into my life as an art historian. The first book I read by her is a book of her art historical essays and reviews called Soundings published in 1997. This book had the profoundest effect on me when I was studying art history.

Her marvellous style, penetrating vision and her intelligent interpretation of the French paintings by Corot and Courbet made me realise that a well-written essay can be every bit as beautiful as the poetry or fiction. It was Anita Brookner, an exceptional scholar from London's Courtauld Institute, whom I greatly admired as an exemplar and a role model during my student days. She lived in France for a number of years. During that time, she wrote very insightful short essays and reviews of the exhibitions that made a regular appearance in the prestigious art magazine called The Burlington Magazine.

She later admitted in her rare radio interview, which must be her last interview, The Reunion: The Courtauld Institute, with Sue MacGregor (available to listen online) that the most meaningful period of her life was at the Courtauld Institute where she was trained and later appointed as a teaching fellow by then-Director, Anthony Blunt. One of her students at Courtauld (the artist, John McLean) later wrote about her: "She gave very elegant lectures. I had never seen anyone so metropolitan and poised."

It was her essays and reviews along with the writings of Benedict Nicolson, the elder son of Harold Nicolson and Vita Sackville-West that inspired me to become an art historian. I would devour every word they wrote for The Burlington Magazine at the university's library.

Anita Brookner came into my life as a novelist was much later, during the darkest days, after I left the university when I felt my entire life was drifting in the sea of desolation. It was her novels that spoke to me and comforted (they still do) me. Through her writings, I found my mentor because I looked up to her as a survival from a vanished civilisation. Her extraordinary ability to write the most elegant prose makes most contemporary writing seem crude and sloppy. She was most perspective and insightful as a writer. Here is how she described an incompatible relationship in her book, The Misalliance: "Like many rich men, he thought in anecdotes. Like many simple women, she thought in terms of biography." No one else would have written like that. Her subjects are about narratives of failures (after all, isn't literature all about failure?), lonely characters and exiles leading what she called "the unlived life". She wrote in her 1984 Booker Prize winning novel, Hotel du Lac:
"In real life, it is the hare who wins. Every time. Look around you. And in any case it is my contention that Aesop was writing for the tortoise market. Hares have no time to read. They are too busy winning the game."
Some literary critics were rather harsh and unfair in their judgment when they assess her works and complain that she repeatedly wrote the same kind of story. But then, they seem to forget the words of Tolstoy, one of the greatest writers of all time, when he said: "All great literature is one of two stories; a man goes on a journey or a stranger come to town." You will find that Anita Brookner engaged in both aspects brilliantly and passionately in her novels.
Every sentence she wrote is a sheer beauty, made in the elegiac tone, full of subtle evocations of vanished ways of life. All these things made a powerful impression on me. But what makes me so sad is that her death was not even mentioned in the national 6 o’clock news. There were no headlines. Apart from the online social media and the tributes paid by her contemporaries and famous writers, there is very little statement about her death in today's press cover and news bulletin.

I thought that being an infinitely reticent woman, she would probably have preferred this quiet and dignified way of leaving this world. This evening, I read one of the most beautiful paragraphs from her novel, Look At Me. My voice slightly choked with emotion but I read it out loud as a mark of respect to her while I sat on my favourite reading chair and who knows she may even be listening….

I shall leave you with her words:
 "It was then that I saw the business of writing for what it truly was and is to me. It is your penance for not being lucky. It is an attempt to reach others and to make them love you. It is your instinctive protest, when you find you have no voice at the world's tribunals, and that no one will speak for you. I would give my entire output of words, past, present and to come, in exchange for easier access to the world, for permission to state "I hurt" or "I hate" or "I want". Or indeed, "Look at me". And I do not go back on this. For once a thing is known it can never be unknown. It can only be forgotten. And writing is the enemy of forgetfulness, or thoughtlessness. For the writer there is no oblivion. Only endless memory."

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Remembering Anita Brookner

Based on the traffic stats for this blog, the passing of Anita Brookner has renewed interest in her and her work. It might be helpful for an introduction for newcomers to this site.

In 2011, to celebrate Brookner's birthday and her 30th year publishing novels, we created International Anita Brookner Day. At the time we had lots of readers and bloggers reading and writing about Brookner and her novels. The result was lots of first-time Brookner readers and lots of blogger book reviews. Follow the links below to find out more.

1. An index of blogger reviews of Brookner's novels. If you have a review of your own that you would like to submit to be included in the index, I would be delighted to add it here, both as a blog post and as a link in the index. Shoot me an email at hogglestock [at] outlook [dot] com.

2. An index to London place names in Brookner's fiction. If you have ever read any of Brookner's novels, you know that London plays a prominent role, especially as her characters love to walk. As I re-read all of Brookner's 24 novels and 1 novella in chronological order, I have been keeping a list of all the London place names I come across. So far I have indexed the first 8 and am about to start on number 9, Lewis Percy.

3. A chance encounter with Brookner at Marks and Spencer. Writer Sophie Smith gave us a firsthand account of her running into Brookner while out shopping. Compared to other authors, there is relatively little known about Brookner's personal life. We did hear a bit of gossip back in 2011 that she was aware of IABD and had contemplated acknowledging it but didn't like the fact that we had appropriated her birthday for our celebration. A very private woman indeed.

Monday, March 14, 2016

Saturday, October 31, 2015

Review: Latecomers

[Number 8 in my chronological re-read of all of Brookner's 24 novels.]

In Latecomers, Anita Brookner strays away from her more typical solitary protagonist and gives us an ensemble cast. There are life-long friends and business partners Hartmann and Fibich, their wives Yvette and Christine (respectively), and their children Marianne and Toto (respectively). The emotional center of the book, and what there is of a plot, definitely revolve around Hartmann and Fibich. The chronology starts with them. Thrown together as youths when refugee Fibich comes to live with Hartmann and his aunt, the two become like brothers, go into business together, and end up living in the same apartment building for all their adult lives. In the meantime both acquire wives and one child each.

Despite this symmetry, it's clear Hartmann is the one in charge. It's his aunt who raises them. He is the first to get married. The one to find and buy a flat and then eventually grab one in the same building for Fibich and his wife. And the one who is, or at least appears to be, the steadier of the two. More certain of himself, more confident in business, love, and family, and less troubled by his past. Their wives reinforce the power dynamic. Hartmann's wife Yvette is one of those people who demands attention. Pretty, elegantly put together, coquettish, and seemingly bent on becoming the boss' wife. Paying only enough attention to her duties at Hartmann and Fibich's office to keep her job long enough to hook and marry Hartmann. I don't think she necessarily set out to seduce him but her flirtatious nature and desire to be set up in a life, far from the world of her mother's reduced circumstances, made it a bit inevitable.

Christine on the other hand is the hired help in Hartmann's aunt's house--although her implied intellect and class status, if not her actual duties, make her feel more like a ladies' companion than a maid. When she helps Fibich nurse the aunt through her final illness, the two become close and eventually marry and move into the flat Hartmann has found for them in his building.

And then the children happen. Marianne seems a bit quieter, less sure of herself, and less glamorous than Hartmann and Yvette. And Toto is confident to the point of arrogance which makes him feel decidedly different than Fibich and Christine.

In some ways I expected Latecomers to have a little more to say about the lives of the two children and the contrast with their respective parents. Instead the novel has much more to do with Fibich trying to make sense of his past. He becomes increasingly discomfited by all that he can't remember of his short childhood in Germany and the parents who were lost to him at the hands of the Nazis. Hartmann's family was similarly impacted but with much less effect on Hartmann's life.

The fascinating thing about the way Brookner writes about the impacts of Nazism on Hartmann and Fibich is that she never mentions the Nazis or what they did. I think the only explicit mention is the blurb written by her publisher on the jacket flap. In the novel itself it is only hinted at in the most oblique ways. Not only are details or proper names never mentioned, but even the generic word atrocity would seem out of place.  Brookner tends to do that--she will write in great detail about emotions, or small details, but the outside world, the one where news and history happen, never really comes up. To me, this is never a problem. Brookner has created a world that is less of an ahistorical bubble than it is a delivery system for deep personal feeling.

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Review: A Friend from England

[Just finished number 7 in my chronological re-read of all of Brookner's 24 novels.]

I feel like I should be an expert on A Friend from England. Not only did I just finish re-reading the novel, but I also listened to the audio version after that. The process of re-reading allowed me to reacquaint myself with the plot and, being a re-read, I was able to focus on details I missed the first time around. With the plot still fresh in my mind, following that up with the audiobook was pretty enlightening. Listening to the book each day--without having to read the words myself--really allowed me to think about the characters and what motivated them. It also had me thinking about what kind of people they really were and whether or not I have known anyone like them in my own life.

Thirty-something Rachel, her parents both dead, has been befriended by her father's (and now her own) accountant Oscar Livingstone and his wife Dorrie. Rachel enjoys being a part of their family circle even if she is somewhat ambivalent, at least at first, about their daughter Heather. Although just a few years younger than Rachel, Heather is not someone with whom Rachel finds much in common. Rachel sees Heather as cosseted and helpless. She runs a dress shop her parents bought for her and she seems to Rachel to be naive and ill-equipped to deal with the adult world.

Rachel also runs a shop (a bookshop no less) but considers herself to be the opposite of Heather in just about every way. Lacking parents or any other relatives on whom she can rely, Rachel considers herself far more worldly and capable than Heather, and she resents the way in which Oscar and Dorrie have her on such a high pedestal. Part of me thinks that Rachel's problem with Heather has less to do with a dislike of Heather and more to do with feelings of envy that she is not the focus of Heather's parents' attention.

On top of this, we are led to believe that Rachel, unlike Heather, has an extremely varied and busy sex life. Brookner never specifies what Rachel gets up to at night but she makes repeated references to activity that had me wondering if Rachel turned tricks in the seedier parts of town. I don't think that is really the case but it is clear that she has multiple sexual partners and prides herself on never getting close to any of them. Not surprisingly, Heather's approach to love and relationships is the opposite, and that, to Rachel, is further proof of Heather's naive view of the world.

Once the characters have been introduced and Rachel's emotional and psychological workings have been laid out, the novel moves us through a few crises that don't directly involve Rachel yet they seem to consume her mental capacity. Aside from buying out a partner in her bookshop and buying her flat, Brookner never really lets us into Rachel's world except as it intersects with that of the Livingstone's. Rachel turns out to be the eponymous friend from England and that seems to explain a lot. Despite her social, sexual, and business independence, it seems that in the end the only way Brookner allows Rachel to be defined is as someone's friend. Rather than having her own identity and being someone that people recognize as an individual, she is seen as an appurtenance to the lives of others, and an inconsequential one at that.

One side note I found interesting, there are two gay characters in the book, one incidental and the other of specific importance to the plot. As with many things, Brookner never comes out and says it. It is just implied almost as if it were happening off-stage, like Rachel's sex life. The only reason I bring it up is that the cultural signifiers Brookner uses to let us know they are gay are so painfully indicative of a time that is not that long ago but might as well be light years in the past. We learn that one character is gay not just because he is in what is almost imperceptibly implied to be a gay pub, but because he is wearing eye shadow. This seems a bit of a throwback even for 1987. The only thing missing is a limp wrist and a lisp. Oh, I take it back, I do believe at one point Brookner references the sibilance of the gay character's speech. So glad that this depiction now seems as old fashioned as it does. Changes over the past 28 years have, in most circles, annihilated the attitudes that helped promulgate Thatcher's notoriously anti-gay Clause 28. And good riddance.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Review: The Misalliance

[I'm up to number six in my chronological re-read of all of Brookner's 24 novels.]

Just about every relationship in The Misalliance (or A Misalliance in the UK) could be considered a misalliance.

After being left by her husband of twenty years Blanche spends her days wandering the National Gallery and her solitary evenings with a bottle of wine. She spends a fair amount of time in musing on the reasons why her husband left her and the type of woman he left her for, but I never got the feeling that that was the point of this novel. In many ways Blanche seems rather complacent about her husband's departure, as if it had been her own fault for not being the right kind of woman. That in itself is tragic given that she devoted her married life to becoming the kind of public and private companion that her husband Bertie seemed to want.

While volunteering at the local hospital one day Blanche is drawn to Sally Beamish, a young mother who is there trying to get help for her three-year old daughter Elinor/Nellie who is mute. Blanche is immediately taken with the child, seeing her as a patient, old soul putting up with a flighty mother and an absent father. Indeed she sees Nellie as a kindred spirit and she moves to offer assistance to Sally whose life is a bit of a self-imposed mess. Her husband Paul is off being a factotum for a wealthy American family who have oddly decided to only pay him in one lump sum at the end of an extended trip. By the end of that trip, however, Paul is essentially accused of embezzling funds and is unlikely to get the pay coming to him. This situation never amounts to anything with legal implications but Blanche is coerced into intervening on Paul's behalf --a man she has never even seen before.

Throughout all of this Blanche's ex-husband Bertie continues to drop in most evenings ostensibly to see how Blanche is doing. This struck me as Bertie wanting to have it both ways. Why give up the comforts of a trusted, supportive ex-spouse just because you have moved on to a younger, more dynamic wife? Although Blanche looks forward to these meetings and retains an emotional attachment to Bertie, I never got the feeling that they were necessary to her well-being. If anything I felt they might be keeping her from moving forward. Also part of the story is Patrick, a suitor in the days prior to Bertie with whom she has remained friends over the years. She asks for his advice on how to best help Sally and Nellie  and he ends up falling in love with the much younger Sally. Nothing ever comes of it, Sally uses Patrick for support in the same way she uses Blanche, but it is enough for Blanche to see Patrick for what he really is.

Blanche is a bit of a victim of male behavior and privilege, and although she is a bit stuck trying to make sense of it all, I kind of felt like she might be on the cusp of something. Perhaps it's a recognition that the men in her life are really rather weak and certainly not to be relied upon. Blanche's decision to leave them all behind and go off traveling for an extended, undefined period is, I suppose, at least partly out of desperation. But I couldn't help projecting my own wishes for Blanche. This was going to be the moment of her triumph. The moment when she leaves it all behind and discovers who she really is.

And then at the eleventh hour Bertie returns--and seemingly for good. Is this vindication for Blanche and the restoration of her married life? Perhaps, but rather than finding it something to celebrate, I found it no more than a threat to her ultimate happiness. A return to her life in a comfy prison. But Brookner leaves us hanging as to what happens next. My feeling is that if Blanche does take him back it won't stick.  He may not leave her again but she will realize he isn't what she wants and this is the real misalliance of the book. Not the first 20 years, not the connection with Sally and Nellie, but what happens after Bertie's return. His return may delay her self-realization, but it won't preempt it entirely.


This thought may not be worth much, but it is something I want to memorialize for my own edification. I loved the scenes where Mrs. Duff comes to Blanche's rescue despite the fact that Blanche has never shown her more than a begrudged politeness. Mrs. Duff's simple, but helpful assistance when Blanche fell ill seems like the only bit of altruism in the book. Brookner doesn't make much of it. But she must have had something in mind. I can think of a few things, but I really just mention it because I was warmed by those scenes.