Friday, July 22, 2011

PRIZES and the Final Recap

  
Thanks to all of you who participated in International Anita Brookner Day. I had a lot of fun seeing what you all came up with and was gratified that so many of you had a positive experience. And I still have hope for those who weren't instant fans. Many of the qualms that some had with the Anita Brookner novel they read and reviewed didn't stem from Brookner's writing ability but rather from disappointment in her characters. And therein lies my reason for hope. When I first read Brookner I was not just disappointed with ther characters I was frustrated as all get out. I mean really, who are these passive, depressed people. But I found that those people kind grew on me. I never wanted to be them, and still don't, but I became fascinated in reading about them.  This isn't to suggest that those of you who wrote less than positive reviews are all going to become fans, but it is to suggest that your journey with Anita may not be over.

And speaking of that journey. Anytime you post a review of a Brookner novel, just let me know and I will include it on the IABD blog and archive.

On to the prizes:

Best Review: Danilo Abacahin
He doesn't blog, but based on this review he should. I particularly liked the way he organized his review around the reactions he had recorded in his diary while he read Undue Influence.

Best non-Review: Peta Mayer
Peta's list of 10 Things to Expect from a Brookner Novel was insightful and funny. It confirmed some things I already thought (the walking) and made me ponder some things I hadn't (eros).

Best Picture of a Pet Reading Brookner: Julia at Pages of Julia
Of course all of the pet pictures were cute as can be. But the one that really stood out was Julia's. Her cute pooches are clearly Brookner fans.


Participation Prize: Ted at Bookeywookey

Special Prize for inspring the judges to come up with another prize: Jack at The Windy Sea of Land
Simon suggested that Jack deserved a prize for starting a blog just to join in IABD. I totally agreed and so we created another prize category just for him.

Winners:
You have until August 8th to pick a paperback (any paperback, it doesn't have to be Anita Brookner) and email me with your choice and your mailing address. onmyporch [at] hotmail [dot] com

If you are outside the US you can make your choice from The Book Depository. If you are in the US you can choose from TBD or Barnes and Noble.


The Recap
We ended up with 33 reviews of 14 novels. Did you ever see that skit on Sesame Street where everyone ended up bringing potato salad to the picnic. Well, Hotel du Lac was the potato salad of IABD.

The Bay of Angels (2001)
Michelle Foong
Wendy Mayer

A Closed Eye (1991)
Bookeywookey
My Porch

Family and Friends (1985)
The Truth About Lies

Hotel du Lac (1984)
Another Cookie Crumbles
Boston Bibliophile
Fig and Thistle
Novel Insights
Pages of Julia Blog
Savidge Reads
Stuck in a Book
The Reading Life

Incidents in the Rue Laugier (1995)
Books and Chocolate
Erich Mayer
Roses Over a Cottage Door

Leaving Home (2005)
A Book Sanctuary
Luvvie's Musings

Lewis Percy (1989)
Bibliolathas

Look at Me (1983)
Nonsuch Book
Savidge Reads

The Next Big Thing (2002)
Luvvie's Musings

A Private View (1994)
This Windy Sea of Land

Providence (1982)
My Porch (May 15, 2010)
My Porch (July 15, 2011)

The Rules of Engagement (2003)
Gaskella
Park Benches & Bookends
Silencing the Bell
Telecommuter Talk

A Start in Life (1981)
Citizen Reader
My Porch
Savidge Reads

Undue Influence (1999)
Danilo Abacahin

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Review: Hotel du Lac

The following review of Hotel du Lac was written by Amanda at Fig and Thistle

Although I missed Anita Brookner day, I still wanted to post my thoughts on Hotel du Lac. This is my first Brookner book. I’ve always intended to read something by Brookner, but I think I was daunted by the number of books. I didn’t know where to start. I picked Hotel du Lac because it was a Booker winner.

Hotel du Lac is what I would call a quiet novel. There is a plot, but the strength of the book lies in the characters’ unspoken thoughts, observations, and motivations. The novel begins with Edith Hope — a famed romance novelist — settling in to a Swiss hotel after a socially embarrassing incident. The hotel is sparsely peopled, but the handful of hotel residents fuel the humor, emotion, and, of course, move along the plot.

This slim volume — under 200 pages — clips along at a nice pace,the wit is sharp, and the characters are intriguing…. but…… I wouldn’t say I like it. I think I certainly like Brookner’s writing. She seems to be a sort of darker Barbara Pym with bits of Elizabeth Taylor cooked in and a dash of Iris Murdoch; you know, quintessentially British and witty, but with darker emotions and an elegiac tone. Of course, I’m basing my assessment of Brookner’s writing style from one book and I should really read all of them before I start making author-recipes. I simply didn’t care for any of the characters; Edith Hope seems cold and I have a difficult time sympathizing her situation and all the other characters are obnoxious, shallow, and/or calculating.

For all my character dislikes, I simply cannot stop raving over the writing. In addition to great dialogue and some marvelous descriptive passages, I found myself really loving the phrases that seemed to pop-out. For example, the hotel corridor is described as being “vibrant with absence” (pg.13). I remember pausing my reading to mull over that phrase. It is such an apt description of that sensation that strikes out with emptiness when one is in a typically bustling place. I can certainly say that the academic library I work at is vibrant with absence in the summer months!

So yes, certainly more Brookner in my future.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Review: Hotel du Lac

Another Cookie Crumbles offers us her thoughts on Hotel du Lac.

Belated birthday wishes to Anita Brookner, and a day late, but a happy International Anita Brookner Day to the rest of you.

Some time back, I decided to re-read Anita Brookner’s Booker-winning Hotel du Lac a few months back, as part of Sarah’s Not A Rat’s Chance In Hell, and last week seemed to be the right time to read it (what with 16th July being IABD, hosted by Thomas at my Porch and Savidge Reads).

I enjoyed Hotel du Lac the first time I read it, when I was still in my teens – the pathos, the despair, the richness of characters and the fact that it is set in Switzerland. Switzerland is, by far, my favourite country in the world, and I intend to live there at some point in my life. It just feels like… home.

The re-read, however, wasn’t quite the same experience. I felt myself getting slightly more frustrated with Edith’s character, and her complete lack of proactivity. It was almost like she was resigned to her fate, and was letting life pass her by; letting other people pull her strings.

Edith, an established writer, has been exiled to a hotel by Lake Geneva. Her friends have advised her to “disappear for a decent length of time and come back older, wiser and properly sorry,” for an act that she has committed, albeit it isn’t quite clear what that act is, in the opening pages of the book. In the hotel, she meets a myriad of characters, each seeking a break from reality, and as she gets to know them better, we (as readers) get to know our protagonist better as well.
What it had to offer was a mild form of sanctuary, an assurance of privacy, and the protection and the discretion that attach themselves to blamelessness.
Edith is in love with David, a married man, but her affair with him is not the reason behind this exile. And, it’s not her absolution. She writes letters to David regularly, and yearns for his presence, which doesn’t seem forthcoming. She attempts to return to her writing in the hotel, but the characters that surround her distract her – mostly, the women, but there is the one man who catches her eye? Or, does she catch his eye?
The women in the hotel, which is indeed very selective of its guests, include the extravagant superficial Puseys whose interests most involve shopping and living an expensive lifestyle; Monica, who seems enviously condescending of the Puseys, as she spends her days sharing coffee, ice-cream and cakes with her dog; and Madame De Bonneuil, an old lady, who’s been abandoned by her son after his marriage. Then there’s Mr. Neville, a self-proclaimed romantic who thinks he’s good for Edith…

A lot of the book focuses on women, and how their stature evolves with age and marriage; the importance of marriage and of having the significant other. Of course, this is predominantly due to the time in which the book was set – possibly the 70s – but subjecting all women to such… banality… was what got me slightly annoyed. A woman’s place in society should be incidental to her marriage, not a result of it – that’s my verdict, but then again, I live in the twenty-first century, so it is easy for me to say that.
The company of their own sex, Edith reflected, was what drove many women into marriage.
Brookner does pull out a couple of good twists though, which almost saves Edith’s character, for she does come across as a passenger in her own life, not an active participant – definitely not the driver. It was well-written and slightly humorous, but, despite being under two hundred pages, oh-so-slow, that it almost feels like a book you want to curl up with, a glass of red wine in one hand, and the Moonlight Sonata playing on the stereo.

Thought I’d share some gorgeous pictures of places that have been mentioned in this book as well… it really is a place I would recommend to go to, to get some respite from the world.

lake_geneva
Oh, and do let me know which Brookner should I read next? Just go chronologically, or… which are your favourites?

Review: The Next Big Thing/Making Things Better

The following review of The Next Big Thing/Making Things Better is from Alex at Luvvie's Musings.
Jacob Wrestling with the Angel
Eugene Delacroix
L'Eglise Saint Sulpice, Paris
Photo credit
 Isn't this rather beautiful? This painting features in Making Things Better aka The Next Big Thing.

It was longlisted for the Booker Prize in 2002.

I was a bit excited about reading it as this is the first Anita Brookner I've read that features a male in the lead role, so to speak.

Julius Herz is retired and reflecting on his life to date. It could be argued that he is in his dotage. He is ailing physically and mourning the lack of someone to look after him in his old age.

Julius did marry once - to a cheerful, practical sort of woman - Josie - but cramped living conditions, which included his demanding and morose parents, spelled the death-knell for any hope of proper intimacy.

Brookner's novels may be slim but they're never an easy read. She seems to delight in tackling the difficult subjects like old age and loneliness that other writers might choose to give a wide berth.

Not our Ms Brookner. She plunges in where angels fear to tread and paints a sobering picture of something that most of us will face - decline and decay - and possibly regret. As my father regularly intones in lines attributed to Bette Davis I think - "Old age isn't for sissies."

Like many of Brookner's characters, Julius was an obedient offspring. Not necessarily the favoured son by any stretch of the imagination...but the one that tidied up and tried to make things better. When his brother Freddy, a promising concert violinist starts to lose the plot, Julius is the only one who visits him in the Sanitorium and witnesses his decline.

Late in life, Julius is given a chance at freedom. His parents having passed on, a distant acquaintance, who helped the family re-settle in London from war-torn Europe, bequeaths a significant proportion of his estate to Julius which frees him from the necessity to work or worry about a roof over his head.

But is it too late? "He was not trained for freedom, that was the problem, had not been brought up for it." Poor Julius feels so overcome with the challenge of freedom he suffers "a feeling of unreality, so enveloping as to constitute a genuine malaise." A quite amusing dialogue ensues during an appointment with his doctor where Julius earnestly asks if he could be suffering a similar experience to Freud's on the Acropolis. The Doctor ignores the question of existentialism and pursues a comfortable line of enquiry - blood pressure.

Friends and acquaintances suggest that what Julius needs is a holiday. In his obliging manner, he attempts to re-visit the joys of his youth, when he sampled the delights of brief getaways in Paris with obliging young women. It doesn't take long to get to Paris from Waterloo...but the people have changed and of course Julius has too. He feels his age and decides to return home earlier than planned. Before he leaves, he pops into Saint Sulpice to check out Delacroix's painting. I'll leave you to read the book and find out the epiphany or new reading that Julius takes away with him from the viewing.

I always feel a wee bit more edu-muckated after I've read Brookner. I learn new words - this book brought me meretricious, which I always forget means "befitting a harlot - or showily attractive" - a most useful word - must use it more often. Then of course there is fiacre - which you might think is something to do with a fiasco - but no, it is a French four-wheeled cab - never enough cabs I say. Finally inanition.- emptiness esp of nourishment i.e. how I felt earlier this week after a particularly nasty tummy bug.

In conclusion I have to say that on the whole I found The Next Big Thing a bit of struggle - rather like Jacob wrestling with the Angel. There is a very telling line early on when Julius forms a friendship with a younger man - a co-beneficiary of the estate bequeathed to them. They dine together on a regular basis "Herz had little experience of dealing with younger people but understood instinctively that one kept out of their lives as much as possible but was curious and indulgent towards them....It was a matter of discretion not to talk about oneself. To do so would be to shock Simmonds with the prospect of what awaited him."

I guess I'm not shocked. More gloomily depressed. One doesn't want to shoot the messenger of course, but it has to be said that Brookner fare puts you off old age, so she does.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Six Degrees of Anita Bacon, I mean Anita Brookner

In the lead up to IABD I was making all kinds of tenuous connections between my posts and Anita Brookner. After reading Peta's much deeper analysis of connections between Brideshead Revisited and Anita Brookner, I  began thinking about the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon game.

Are you familiar with the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon game? To play, all you have to do is link any celebrity to Kevin Bacon within six degrees. I read an article years ago in The New Yorker that posited that this game works with Kevin Bacon because he has been in such a variety of projects and had not been typecast. The article stated that someone who made many more films and was far more famous, like John Wayne, won't necessarily fare as well in the Six Degrees game because their were work was more specialized.

So I thought how many degrees of separation between Kevin Bacon and Anita Brookner. Using Diana Quick from the Brideshead post as a possible starting point, it was far easier than I thought it would  be to connect these two dots. I bet there are other connections as well. Perhaps this will be a regular feature.

Kevin Bacon


Was in Where the Truth Lies with Colin Firth


Who was in (the sappy) Love Actually with Bill Nighy


Who was in a 27-year relationship with Diana Quick


Who voiced an audiobook of Anita Brookner's Undue Influence


 That's only 5 degrees of separation. Can you do better?


Review: A Private View

The following review was written by Jack at This Windy Sea of Land. He actually started his blog just so he could participate in IABD. Jack is an English literature student in Cambridge, England--and I can't believe he became a Brookner fan at 16.

I’ve never reviewed a book before, but I have been, if not hardcore, at least an interested Anita Brookner fan ever since my first encounter with Hotel du Lac (1984) at my mother’s recommendation when I was 16.  These books, however, as almost anyone who has read one would admit, are not for everyone: critics often accuse her of writing the same book again and again. What is more, critics often accuse her of writing depressing books, about a lonely woman leading a non-eventful life (coincidentally aging between books at about the same rate as the author herself), pondering her loneliness for 200 pages in magnificent detail, again and again. To quote the immensely witty and self-aware opening line of Incidents in the Rue Laugier (1995), these women “read a lot, sighed a lot, and went to bed early”. And to be fair to these critics, this is not far off the mark.  In an interview with Mick Brown (The Daily Telegraph, 2009) after the release of Brookner’s most recent book, Strangers (2009), Brown retells an anecdote told by one of Brookner’s friends:

Julian Barnes remembers lunching with Brookner and asking what she was working on at the moment. 'And she said, "I've just finished a novel." There was a perfectly judged pause, then she added, "It's about a lonely woman…" And gave me a very direct glance.'  
“I think one keeps on writing the same book over and over again,” she said. Her own understanding removes all power from those who take the easy route of sneering at the superficially banal nature of her (non-existent) plots. Brookner writes to “fill time”; she is the lady amateur. This self-awareness, however, forces a reader to address her work on a different level. A reader must take into account the intelligence of the author- leading to an understanding that Brookner is beyond reproach both because of her modesty and because of her sheer talent. Her pages are filled with poetic prose that, although often compared to Henry James, reminds me equally of Virginia Woolf; her clean lines and careful structure chart the lives of women (and occasionally men) who seem always to live in the dream like bubble of their own minds paradoxically separated from the outside world by divisions as clear and strong as the boundaries in a classical garden.

A Private View (1994), however, is somewhat different; for one thing George Bland, our recently retired and occasionally infuriating, protagonist is a man. Bland even has a friend he feels comfortable with; Louise, his one love affair who married another man but who, now a widow, calls him every Sunday night; phones calls of comfort, if not of passion. However, George had planned to spend his retirement travelling with his closest friend, Putnam, who died before the great plan could be realised. At last, one may think, he is lonely! It is definitely an Anita Brookner novel! Yet in the novel’s plot a gulf is exposed between this novel and Brookner’s others.

Katy Gibb appears in Bland’s block of flats. A young and, one may even say, feisty woman claiming to know the Dunlops, Bland’s neighbours, currently away on holiday. They’ve promised, she says, that Katy could stay in their flat. Bland, the guardian of the Dunlop’s keys reluctantly, and perhaps foolishly hands, them over, wishing only for the quiet and secluded life of any other Brookner character.  Katy, however, is less willing to go away. She infiltrates Bland’s life one step at a time; she calls him George in a gross breach of the rules of address that dominate so many character relations in the novel, she invites herself round to his flat for tea. Through this a reader eventually learns that Katy is vying for more than his company; rather she seeks his large and comfortable flat. She is after premises in which to establish her new-age health business. It is in this aspect that we see the greatest distinction between this novel and Brookner’s other recollections of melancholy: whereas her characters normally leave home, heading usually to France or Switzerland to read a lot, sigh a lot and go to bed early, Bland has his life invaded. He does not flee and is forced further into his own flat rather than, as is usual, out of it. Like an Elizabethan house, greater privacy is found further inside as his external rooms are invaded by new-comers until only one room truly remains: “his bedroom, his fortress.”

It would perhaps not be too far to see both Bland’s flat and Katy as two sides of a coin: one comes to represent Bland’s mundane, comfortable and routine existence, the other a lust for adventure and travel as Katy seems to possess the complete freedom to journey that Bland had hoped for in his retirement plan. He had hoped to journey to the Far East, with Putnam, “by the slowest route they could devise”. Instead he falls in what he believes to be love. Asking for pecuniary investment for her new business venture Katy declares: “After all, I’m the potential, aren’t I? I’d be the investment.” She is just that. The potential; the potential life that Bland could lead, alone and carefree. It might not even be too far to suggest that she is the potential of an empty flat. The Dunlops’ absence creates new life, albeit unintentionally. Katy comes to be the spirit of freedom itself and, to a certain extent, Bland seeks to be her. Caught up with her petulant mystique of extravagant eating, so out of line with “the instinctive frugality of those who live alone, financially secure though never extravagant” (Leaving Home, 2005),and with her rude questions (“Anywhere exciting?”), Bland reaches the most infuriating heights of desire ever captured in novel form. To use an ancient cliché, he is in love not with Katy (who he states he would feel embarrassed undressing in front of) but with the idea of Katy. In reflections back to his mother’s invasion of his stuffy childhood bedroom- going in when he was away, shutting his window and smoking, filling his private space with her essence- Bland sees the similarities between the two women. Both invade his space and, to a certain extent, “bring him up”; Katy educates him. However, as his mother dragged him from university to work in the, metaphorically significant, cardboard-box factory, Katy too confines him. Within his generation. She pities his age and, as such, forbids him access to her free way of life. However, it is perhaps in Katy that we see the “standard” Brookner heroine, rootless and lonely. It is maybe for her that we should feel pity. She seeks the security of a “room of her own” rather than the borrowed accommodation of absent “friends”. Bland, however, sees only her current life and longs for it as both parties seem desperate, although they hide it, for what the other has.

Bland, in love, recognises, but refuses to admit, the inadequacies of the, actually non-existent, relationship. Neither partner considers the other their equal. Forced into greater seclusion Bland recognises the importance of his relationship to the world. Thus his dream is over, rightly crushed by pragmatism. Katy, denied Bland’s flat- denied Bland’s place in the world-, is to return to America. In keeping with the tried and tested Brookner technique, the net result is zero. No change. “Nothing had changed but everything had changed”, Zoe’s maxim from The Bay of Angels, holds true. Bland, as his name suggests, does not rock the boat and stays within the confines of his regular existence. “Now I must live my life as I have always lived it”, he declares to himself. This is not to say, however, that he remains as internalised as his contact with Katy had made him. There is no longer any pressure from youth or from his own mind, as in other Brookner novels, to be a complete recluse. To Louise he asks in the closing line of the book, “What would you say to a cruise? In the Spring?”. The novel ends with hope; it ends not with death but the potential for new life. Not the wild life of Katy Gibb but a life more appropriate to Bland’s place in society and his stage of life.

It doesn’t really feel like I’m giving the ending away; this is what one expects from a Brookner novel. The Dunlops’ return to their flat over the corridor signals the end of a purely internal and mental adventure as Bland faces his own life and his own choices reflected in the elusive Katy Gibb. Bland is literally forced into his comfort zone, his bedroom, as the outside world (death, other people) encroaches on his own personal reality. It is within himself that he sees the choices he could have made as he almost acknowledges the Katy Gibb residing in himself:

For a brief moment he was afforded a glimpse into the heart of hedonism, something ancient, pagan, selfish. He saw it as movement, headlong rush, carelessness, the true expression of the essential ego.
Ultimately, however, this glimpse confirms Bland’s understanding of his own existence.

His life, in retrospect, seemed very long and quite uneventful. Yet it had been occupied with struggle, with the no doubt modest but nevertheless taxing struggle of finding a place for himself in the world.  
Nothing may happen in any of Anita Brookner’s novels, but they are not all the same; each “hero” must struggle to find their own, distinct, reality.
The following review of Incidents in the Rue Laugier was written by Karen K at Books and Chocolate. (I could go for some chocolate right now. It has been a few weeks.)

Two challenges fulfilled by one 240 page book!  For Paris in July, I had really intended to try and finish some of the books on my burgeoning TBR shelves; however, I've heard so many great things about Anita Brookner I couldn't pass up participating in International Anita Brookner Day, sponsored by Thomas of My Porch.  My discovery of this novel, set in both France and England,  seemed serendipitous.

The book begins with a prologue.  After her death, a young woman finds some intriguing items that belonged to her, including a notebook and a beautiful silk kimono.  The book that follows is how she imagines her mother's life.

Maud Gonthier is the only child of bourgeois parents in Dijon, France.  Her father dies when she is a small child in the 1950s, and her mother struggles to keep them financially afloat without appearing poor. She hopes to get the attractive Maud married off early.  Maud's aunt married very well, and her mother hopes to unite her with her cousin Xavier, or one of Xavier's friends.  On a summer visit at her aunt's country house, young Maud falls head over heels in love with Tyler, a dashing and wealthy young Englishman who has the world at his feet.  Sadly, things don't turn out exactly as Maud hopes -- instead the hunky Tyler, she winds up with the solid but unexciting Edward Harrison, another young Englishman dragged to the country by Tyler.

Initially, this seems like one of those novels in which Not Much Happens.  At first I really didn't much like the story or the characters, who seemed really cold and calculated, especially Maud's mother.  I was resolved to stick with it, and the payoff was worth it.  This book is a really great character study, and it's really made me think about marriages and relationships and True Love.  And disappointment -- a lot of characters in this book are disappointed with their lot in life.

I'm beginning to understand why Thomas raves about Anita Brookner, another author to add to my burgeoning Must Read List.

Aack. I knew I forgot a pet.

I knew I was leaving someone out of the Brookner Pet Cavalcade.

How could I forget Chip from Brisbane? He will be added to the cavalcade and eligible for a prize.

Chip contemplates eating the page once he has read it.
Luvvie's Musings

Review: Look at Me

The following review of Look at Me was written by Frances at Nonsuch Book.

Look

Jonathan Yardley picked an Anita Brookner title for me for IABD. Well, not personally, but the process of choosing just one proved too daunting so I turned to searching through the opinions of others to find a title that was a bit more than just the piercingly perceptive depictions of loneliness for which Brookner is so well known. And then I found a piece from the Washington Post in 2005, one of those Yardley contributions I enjoy so much where he reconsiders a "notable and/or neglected book(s) from the past." Where he looks beyond the psychic isolation of Look at Me protagonist, Frances Hinton, to the thoughtless treatment she receives at the hands of careless people, people Yardley compares to Daisy and Tom from The Great Gatsby. "It was all very careless and confused," Fitzgerald writes. "They were careless people, Tom and Daisy - they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated into their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made."

Frances leads a quiet life contained within an inherited flat with inherited possessions with a housekeeper that she also did not choose, and ventures out for few things other than her work in a small medical research library. When her life is touched by the beautiful and fun-loving Alix and her equally appealing husband Nick who works as as a doctor at the same institute as Frances, she comes alive with the possibilities of life and permits this couple to treat her as an object of entertainment and an occasional funder of their merriment. They pair her with James, another doctor from work, with whom her sensibilities mesh, and her contentment elevates her out of loneliness. Until the bright and beautiful cease to find her amusing anymore.

Even as Frances recognizes the casual disdain with which she is treated, she still seeks to preserve her inclusion in the social circle of her new friends.
I could have been different, I think. Once I had great confidence, great cheerfulness; I did not question my purpose or the purpose of others. All that had gone, and I had done my best to replace it. I had become diligent instead of spontaneous; I had become an observer when I saw that I was not to be allowed to participate. I had refused to be pitiable. I had never once said, Look at me. Now, it seemed, I must make one more effort, one more attempt to make myself viable. And If I succeeded, I might be granted one more opportunity to do it all over again. I did not dare to think what would happen if I failed.
So what she requires from this relationship with the careless is not to possess them, to become them but to regain possession of herself. In an odd way, she uses them as much as they use her especially in her frequent relegation of the cast of characters around her to mere subject material for her writing. But she does this only from desperation in an attempt to claim a voice in a life that has not readily afforded her one.
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, of thoughtlessness. For the writer there is no oblivion. Only endless memory.
The observations of self and others flow in an exhaustive flow of pent-up release. An observant mind that finds no occasion to share her thoughts freely except on paper. Juxtaposed against the excesses of speech and action in the careless, this is a jarring reminder to allow oneself to hear the unsaid, to see the unseen certainly not out of misplaced pity but in order to connect to a broader consciousness. A stunning and elegant book.

The Brookner Pet Cavalcade

When I was thinking up prizes for IABD I thought a photo contest might be in order. But I thought such a contest needed a little, um, focus. And so the pictures of your pet reading Brookner category was born. And the irony is not lost on me. I can't really think if there were ever any pets in an Anita Brookner novel--I rather doubt it--but doesn't it seem like her characters could all use the unrequited love of a pet?

So, here are the entries. If I am missing yours, please let me know. I feel like there is at least one more swirling around out there that I am forgetting.

My favorite blogging Border Collie, Deacon dresses up to read Brookner.
Roses Over a Cottage Door

This species of bear is generally fun loving but is also known for its quiet intensity.
Rupert is clearly mesmermized by Verity's copy of The Bay of Angels.

Unlike the typical Brookner character, Charles has an appetite.
The Reading Life

Ritchey and Hops obviously read at different speeds. But it looks like
they are both close readers. No doubt they assist Julia with her reviews.

Sandy comes to a particularly good bit in The Bay of Angels.
Michelle Foong

Roger takes a break from Lewis Percy
Bibliolathas
Chip contemplates eating the page once he has read it.
Luvvie's Musings


And, of course, Lucy. (And her indifference to Providence.)

Review: Bay of Angels

Despite her self-doubt, Michelle Foong from Selangor, Malaysia has provided a review of The Bay of Angels as good as any blogger.
 
Hope I am not too late in submitting my entry! Just managed to finish my first Brookner two hours ago, phew.... I am not a fast reader plus I lack the discipline to stick to one book before dipping into another (I get distracted easily by the lure of other books calling out from the shelves.... )
 
Anyway, I am so very glad that you and Simon had set a date for this event, thus forcing me to somehow get down to finishing the book in a week! That's a record of sorts for me :p

Okay, enough preamble, let's get to the book.
 
Given a choice, I would have liked to start of my acquaintance with Ms. Brookner through Hotel du Lac. Not simply because it was a prize winning book, and that would somehow suggest a promise to showcase Brookner in one of her best forms, but because I was genuinely interested in the themes the storyline seemed to offer. But as providence would have it, I stumbled upon an almost pristine copy of The Bay of Angels at a books clearance sale and got it for only RM1.20 (that's equivalent to about 0.40 USD!) Although the blurb on the back of the book didn't quite interest me and it wasn't the kind of story that I would go for, the cover of the book certainly did otherwise (and let's also not forget about the price .....)

And so, that is how it came to be that my first personal encounter with Ms. Brookner's brilliance, is by way of the Baie des Anges.

I am not a blogger. Neither am I good at writing reviews. Therefore, I shall leave it to those who are better skilled and more eloquent to do so for the book. They will probably do better justice to the book than I can. What I would like to share instead, are my thoughts and the reading experience it gave me. It was probably not merely by chance that I ended up being "made" to read The Bay of Angels despite my initial feelings about how the storyline would not appeal to me much. I say this because once I had started reading, I began to realise how well I could relate to the feelings, the thoughts and the emotions of Zoe, the protagonist in the book.

Like Zoe, I too have a clear understanding of what it feels like to be alone. To find comfort and safety in solitude. To lead a life that seems "not the norm" and maybe even "pitiable" or lacking, in the eyes of those whose value systems are different from ours, those who equate happiness and contentment with what the world in general defines it to be. The ability to put on the right masks at the right time and place, in order to blend in and not invite any further unwelcomed scrutiny. And like Zoe, I too have felt the constant antagonistic struggle between the trappings and burdens of familial duties and the yearning for freedom. But unlike Zoe, who in her own words "has no belief in God", I do. And it is because of this, that I can be alone, and yet know that I am not alone. I can have little, but with contentment, yet find that it is great gain. The fear of having no witness in her life as the days go by, the fear where "one would be more alone in death than one had ever been in life..."  as she ponders on the mystery of death while recalling the preoccupied expression on her dying mother's face which would haunt her for ever, all of which I believe would have been very different for Zoe, had she had a personal relationship with God. Reading this book has made me realise what my faith and belief does for me, in terms of coping with the demands and pressures of everyday living. I thank God for providing me with deep reserves, from which I could draw upon freely, and not just have my own resources to rely on. I wish that Zoe had known that for herself. I wish the same too for all who are struggling through life's tough terrains thinking that they have to shoulder it all upon themselves to make it through. They don't. There is a choice. 

I really appreciate and love the subtlety and sensitivity in which the many difficult themes and issues are handled and portrayed in the writing. The cleverness and beauty of putting into few words that which speaks volumes. That which has been left unsaid does not remain silent. Ms. Brookner has proven that the less can indeed be more. And I have a feeling that I will be looking out for more of her works from here on, after getting off on what I would say is, a good start. :)

So, thanks again, for having this event, and for introducing me to a writer that definitely deserves to be more widely read.

A Brookner Birthday Bio

JoAnn at Lakeside Musing offers this great mini-bio of Anita Brookner for those that don't know much about the author.
 
From Writer's Almanac for July 16, 2011:

It's the birthday of the novelist who said, "I feel I could get into the Guinness Book of Records as the world's loneliest, most miserable woman." That's Anita Brookner (books by this author), born in London (1928). She writes novels about lonely characters, so everyone wrongly assumes that she is writing about herself. She said: "Well, I am a spinster. I make no apologies for that. But I'm neither unhappy nor lonely. I am interested in people who live on their own, people who get left behind, who drop through the net, but who survive. They seem to me quite heroic characters sometimes, but no one inquires about them because they're people who do without much conversation, whose loudest moments are internal."

She did have a lonely childhood; she had no brothers and sisters, and her parents were unhappy. Her father was an unsuccessful businessman. Her mother had given up a successful career as a singer to marry her father and was never sure that it was a good decision. Anita loved reading and art. Her father gave her two Dickens novels every year for her birthday and Christmas until she had read every single one. The Brookners lived near an art museum, and she spent every Sunday afternoon there looking at paintings.

She went to college and graduate school to study art history, which worried her parents; they were concerned that she would never find a husband if she became an academic. When she insisted anyway and got offered a scholarship to study in Paris, her parents disowned her. But she loved Paris. She said: "I lived in a hotel, which is an ideal existence. You have no responsibilities. You eat out; you don't make your bed. You go off to work every morning; and I was completely immersed in the work. I've never been so happy."

She moved back to Britain and became an art historian and professor. For many years, she was a popular and respected teacher, but when she was in her 50s, she started to worry about what she would do after she retired. She liked to read fiction, so she decided to try writing a novel. Her first novel, A Start in Life (1981), was published when she was 53. After that, for many years she published exactly one new novel every summer. She writes her novels out in longhand, then types them up, and writes only one draft. Overall, she has published 24 novels in the past 30 years. She said, "My real work was as a teacher and an academic, and I loved it. This is really just filling the time."

Her novels include Hotel du Lac (1984), which won the Booker Prize; Undue Influence (1999); The Rules of Engagement (2003); and most recently, Strangers (2009).

She said, "I suppose what one wants really is ideal company and books are ideal company."

Saturday, July 16, 2011

24 reviews of 12 books and counting...

IABD is off to a great start. Here is a run down of the reviews we have so far.

The Bay of Angels (2001)
Wendy Mayer

A Closed Eye (1991)
Bookeywookey
My Porch

Family and Friends (1985)
The Truth About Lies

Hotel du Lac (1984)
Boston Bibliophile
Novel Insights
Pages of Julia Blog
Savidge Reads
Stuck in a Book

Incidents in the Rue Laugier (1995)
Erich Mayer
Roses Over a Cottage Door

Leaving Home (2005)
A Book Sanctuary
Luvvie's Musings

Lewis Percy (1989)
Bibliolathas

Look at Me (1983)
Savidge Reads

Providence (1982)
My Porch

The Rules of Engagement (2003)
Gaskella
Park Benches & Bookends
Silencing the Bell
Telecommuter Talk

A Start in Life (1981)
Citizen Reader
My Porch
Savidge Reads

Undue Influence (1999)
Danilo Abacahin


The following Brookner titles await their IABD reviews, either today or in the future...So for those of you who enjoyed your Brookner experience you might want to consider helping us fill in the blanks in the future. I will eventually re-read and review all of them, but this isn't just about me, so keep 'em coming.

Altered States (1996)

Brief Lives (1990)

Falling Slowly (1998)

A Family Romance (1993)

Fraud (1992)

A Friend from England (1987)

Latecomers (1988)

A Misalliance (1986)

The Next Big Thing/Making Things Better (2002)

A Private View (1994)

Strangers (2009)

Visitors (1997)

Review: The Debut/A Start in Life

   
The following review of A Start in Life/The Debut was written by Thomas at My Porch.

You probably know by now that I have already read all of Brookner's 24 novels, having finished up the last two last year. So now I get to go back and read them all again, except this time I am going to read them in chronological order. I was tempted for a bit to read a few for IABD that others haven't reviewed so I could help fill in some of the gaps in the reviews. But my OCD kicked in and insisted I follow chron order.

I don't do much re-reading so it is a bit of a novel (ha) experience for me to go back and start from the beginning. If there is any author whose work fares well, perhaps even better, on a second read, I am finding that Anita Brookner is that author. Perhaps the most difficult part of reviewing a re-read is that it kind of requires me to dig a little deeper than I normally do in my reviews. But that could turn out to be a hot mess. Here it goes.

By now it is almost cliche in a review of The Debut (A Start in Life outside the U.S.) to quote the opening sentence:
Dr. Weiss, at forty, knew that her life had been ruined by literature.
In my humble opinion, one of the great opening lines of the 20th century. (Yet in a way, it isn't very 20th century in sentiment, is it?) Slightly less often, reviews of The Debut go on to quote what comes after the opening line:
In her toughtful and academic way, she put it down to her faulty moral education, which dictated, through the conflicting, but in this one instance, united agencies of her mother and father, that she ponder the careers of Anna Karenina and Emma Bovary, but that she emulate those of David Copperfield and Little Dorritt.
But then where do I go from there? Perhaps say something trite about the fact that Brookner's work is highly literate and that she is nothing if not a booklovers novelist. Done and done.

Actress mother, bookseller father far too into their own lives to bother much with their only child. Old world grandmother does her best to make a pleasant home life for Ruth, but really what kind of life is it for a child? Immature, self-involved, vain parents and an aging grandmother. No wonder Ruth turns to books for sustenance and life lessons. She says of her first encounters with Dickens that "The moral universe was unveiled." With books standing in loco parentis it is no wonder that Ruth looks to books for comfort when her grandmother passes away...literally:
She took her grandmother's hand and kissed it, then raised the book to her cheek and held it there for a little while...
With little more than books to show her the way it is no surprise that Ruth takes on the role of parenting her parents fairly early in life. When her teacher at school wants to see her parents her mother is less than accomodating. But by this time Ruth knows what it will take to motivate her mother.
For once she learned cunning. "They all talk about you at school," she said carefully. "they ask me lots of questions. They still talk about you in Lady Windermere's Fan. And you've never been there. You or Daddy. I think you should come once. These things make a difference.
And then reverting back to girlhood:
Cunning deserted her. "And it is my future we're talking about."
And so they go to school and so then does Ruth go to university. But even in that her mother's selfishness wins out. Although she shows little interest in Ruth's life, her mother insists that she not even try for Oxford or Cambridge because she wants her close at hand.

Like so many socially awkward people, Ruth's world and personality open up at university. She still lives a life of books--more so than ever--but makes friends, moves to Paris to study, has romantic assignations, and seems to be looking forward to life in Paris. But it isn't long before her parent's to wield their selfish heads to recall her to London to keep an eye on ailing mother so that philandering father can continue his affair untroubled by who is taking care of his wife. Even her marriage that ultimately results out of her return home doesn't quite put her on a trajectory as fulfilling as the...

God, I am beginning to bore myself. That doesn't bode well for you dear reader. This review sounds half-baked. I am not sure what I am getting at. Part of the problem for an amateur like myself is that I want to say something as clever as Anita Brookner's prose. Before I started re-reading her novels--although I loved them--I felt the need to qualify my love. I would warn people that not much happens. That they are depressing. That they all kind of blend together. But you know what? My re-reading experience thus far (I have also re-read her second novel Providence), has really proven to me that my enthusiasm for Brookner doesn't require qualifiers. Sure, they won't be for everyone, but her books are far too good and her writing far too deep and illuminating for me to be apologizing for her work. They really are brilliant. And this my friends is why I suck at reviewing them properly. How can anyone try and describe what Brookner has distilled into 192 crystalline, almost poetic, pages of human emotion?  I certainly can't.

P.S. I think the original title A Start in Life is far better than the U.S. title. A debut suggests a well prepared for entrance into the world. Whereas Ruth just seems to slide into things with little help from anyone and with no fanfare. Plus a start in life can refer to many stages in her life: her formative years whe she got her actual start in life; her university life in which she manages to get a start in her professional life; getting started in what the reader hopes will be her life in Paris; and finally as she gets started in the non-Paris life that will no doubt see her through to the end.

Review: The Rules of Engagement

Martine of Silencing the Bell didn't exactly have a love affair with The Rules of Engagement.

I went to Chorlton library and found Rules of Engagement, it was the only one of her books they had. It turns out I should have popped down to Didsbury, where they seem to have a much better choice of Anita Brookner novels.

I am not sure that they will want me to join in when I say how bored I was by this book. I mean there is introspection and there is introspection ... and this book takes it all to a whole new level (or is that depth?) I mean no wonder this woman spent so much time worrying about her motivation and her 'relationships' and her emotional reactions and what people thought ... because she had *absolutely* nothing else in her life. And the real trouble with all this introspection was that the woman was so devoid of personality that she never thought anything interesting. She never once said anything meaningful to anyone or had a real conversation about anything or really showed any interest in another human being or interest in anything beyond her own thoughts (ok she read a few books, but a very limited selection and only thought of them in terms of how they reflected back her own thinking or opinions.) She is never really happy, sometimes contented, never has a strong sense of attachment to another person, even her supposed affection for her lover is couched in oblique language. I am sorry because, on reflection, I feel like my intense dislike of the woman and her life distracted me from the writing, which was plainly very effective since the book had such a strong impact on me and created such a powerful reaction. The book was the story of a wasted life.
Now my mood changed to one of weariness and incipient revolt. I played my wifely part adequately, and yet I could see it for what it was: a sham. And it was not only my married life that was a sham; my other life too did not, could not, bear active scrutiny. I saw the point of those grim days in Paris. They had been the means of preparing me for a life lived according to my own rules, rather than rules imposed on me by other people. I had had a glimpse of the freedom available to the purely selfish, though that freedom could be limited by desire. Once again I wanted to roam the streets unobserved, my thoughts confined to myself rather than anticipating another's movements, another's wishes. I wanted everyone to die and leave me alone. I particularly wanted Edmund to die, for I knew that without him I should be myself again and not the person I had becomes once I had chosen him, or been chosen by him.(p.60)

The whole book just goes round in circles as she rethinks herself: her friendship with Betsy, which is frequently broken beyond repair and then reestablished, her marriage, tedious to a fault but with Digby repeatedly referred to as 'honourable', her affair with Edmund, acknowledged as shallow and physical but to which she ascribes deep feeling, she recognises she should 'do' something with her life but utterly fails to act. Years go by, taking her from a newly married twenty-something to being middle aged, in which *nothing happens* apart from a couple of boring people coming round for dinner.

I wanted to scream in frustration, I wanted to give her a good hard slap. It's as if she never moved anywhere from the young woman she was bought up to be, learned nothing from her experiences, had such narrow expectations of life and no imagination. And as I often do I found myself clinging to the hope that it was all leading somewhere, an epiphany, anticipating some kind of denouement that never came, it just kind of dribbled to a halt at the end. I plodded through it, just as I am struggling with this review, because I wanted to contribute to the IABD. I do not feel inspired to read any of her other books.

Confessions of a Brookner Lover

The following musings on Anita Brookner come from the cosmopolitan Donna at Rambling Fancy.


Thomas of MyPorch and Simon S have arranged this day to celebrate Anita Brookner's books. I've recently re-read quite a few and have found myself pleased with how well they stand up over the years. I stumped as to how to talk about them. I don't do book reviews well anyway, and they're neither terribly hopeful nor cheerful books, but the writing is very fine indeed, they have the most exquisite characterisation and, perhaps surprisingly, they are very witty and frequently funny. They are tough and demanding reads of you in some ways too: I always find myself thinking about the characters and the endings long after I've finished the books.

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  Anna Massey and Denholm Elliot in Hotel du Lac

I love Hotel du Lac. It's set in a hotel on Lac Leman -an area I lived near for many years so could really picture the setting. I still find it the most accessible of her novels, even if not perhaps her best. There's also the BBC version with the wonderful (sadly missed) Anna Massey as Edith that I wanted to watch again, but now can't find. Anita Brookner has the advantage of having a very distinguished style both as an author and in person. It might sound like a very strange thing to say, but she looks satisfyingly exactly as I imagined she would look after reading the novels. I appreciate her distinctiveness: that auburn hair, the overflowing ashtray, her crisp, restrained, impeccable and extremely English manner of dressing. Like her books, it's all so very fitting and how often can you say that?

Mw57990

Review: The Rules of Engagement

The following review was written by Emily at Telecommuter Talk.

Thanks to Thomas over at My Porch, I am now a huge Anita Brookner fan. Today is Anita Brookner's 83rd birthday, and in honor of her, he has declared it to be International Anita Brookner Day (IABD). He challenged all of us to read one book by Brookner and to post on it today. He also offered some of her books up in a drawing, and I was a lucky winner of The Rules of Engagement. Easy decision, then, as to what I'd read for the challenge.

I had no idea what to expect, but Thomas and I seem to have quite similar tastes in books a good deal of the time (he's a huge Persephone and Virago fan, like I am), so I came to this book thinking I'd probably like it. What I didn't expect was that I'd sit down one afternoon just to read the first 20 or so pages to see what it was like and still be sitting there 130 pages later, all other plans for the afternoon forgotten. In fact, the only reason I put it down at that point was that I was starving and thought it might be a good idea to get a little food in my stomach.

Brookner is the sort of mesmerizing writer I love, one who pulls you into a story gently, so you don't realize what a firm grip she has on you until you are suddenly aware that there's no getting away. This book was a real page-turner, although not in the sense that expression is typically used. It wasn't action-packed or nail-bitingly suspenseful. It just was so incredibly real, and she made you care so much about her characters that you really wanted to know what was going to happen.

Back when I was in my mid-twenties, I remember sadly coming to the conclusion that making friends as an adult was so difficult, that it was very hard to make the sort of friends I'd had in school and college. When you're an adult, you just don't have hours and hours to talk on the phone and to stay up all night solving all the world's problems together. People are more guarded as adults, more afraid of betrayal. It's probably because we've learned from past mistakes and know that not everyone we consider a friend really is one. I remember thinking how rare it was to find someone with whom I clicked the way I seemed to do with people in college.

When Facebook first became all the rage, I was fascinated by the idea of re-connecting with some of the people I'd known in grade school and high school. I wondered if we could pick up where we'd left off after so many years. What I discovered, is that I couldn't. We've all led completely different lives, and it was soon clear to me that we just didn't have that much in common after so many years apart. The fact that we'd gone to school together, had slumber parties with each other, and enjoyed roller skating at the rink on Saturday nights meant nothing at this point in our lives. Maybe, it would, if I didn't live too far away from any of them to get together on any sort of regular basis, to see if we had more in common, but I didn't. Sad to say, I don't pay that much attention to their FB pages anymore.

I'm reminded of that line from The Big Chill, that William Hurt says (to Kevin Klein, I think. It's been quite a while since I've seen that movie), something to the effect of, "We knew each other for a short period a long time ago. You don't know anything about me now." It was a line that appalled me when I saw the movie for the first time, in the midst of my college career, convinced my friends and I would be as close as we all were forever. I now understand it much better than I did back then.

Brookner's book is all about such friendships. Elizabeth and Betsy (interesting that they both have the same name. Elizabeth is definitely the sort who would never have shortened it to the more playful "Betsy," and Betsy is the sort who would) are school friends, the kind who seem to have been drawn to each other, basically, because they didn't really have any other friends. They meet and become friends in the 1950s and both come of age in the sixties, a little shocked and taken by surprise by such things as the feminist movement. Elizabeth retreats in "good girl" fashion, marrying as her parents expect her to do. The man she marries is much older, and she quickly finds herself in the role of bored housewife. Betsy traipses off to Europe and falls in love with a Communist.

Later, they find each other again, two completely different women who've chosen very different paths in life, struggling to remain friends because, well, they've been friends for so long. They do have something in common, though, which is a desire to escape the lives they find themselves living. Although Elizabeth seems like she would be the more naïve of the two, she (who narrates the story) actually seems to be far more perceptive than Betsy, far more aware of the fact that they're trying to escape their lives. Betsy still seems to have the heart of a school girl: eager to be loved, eager to love, wanting others to like her. Nonetheless, Elizabeth isn't as immune to her emotions as she would like us to believe, and, just as it seemed in their schoolgirls days, these two don't really seem to have any other friends but each other.

I won't say anymore about the plot, because, really, half the fun of the book is not knowing what's going to happen. I will say, though, that one of the aspects of this book I really enjoyed was how it made me think about the women's movement when it was young and the effects it had on women who were not quite sure what to do with it. Elizabeth mentions "feminists" time and again, and she seems not quite sure what to make of the new roles being defined for women, while also seeming to feel she's missed out on something by taking a more traditional path. I've never thought that much about how hard it must have been for women who were raised with certain expectations and in certain social classes to be given the freedom they so deserved. Elizabeth's reaction, I'm quite convinced, although secretive and not admirable, was probably quite common. Broken hearts were also, I'm sure, quite common.

I'm certainly eager to read more Brookner now. I'm in luck: she's written so much. Meanwhile, I'd love to introduce her to someone else, so I'm going to pass on this book that was given to me. If you've never read her and would like to give her a try, please leave a comment. I will draw a name on July 21st and send it on to the lucky winner.

Review: Leaving Home

The following review of Leaving Home was written by Tracey at A Book Sanctuary.


Thank you to Thomas and Simon who invited us to join them in reading for International Anita Brookner Day today – to celebrate English author Anita Brookner’s 83rd birthday.

I chose Leaving Home, the 23rd of her 24 novels because my library had a copy and also as it is partially set in Paris, I thought it would fit in well with reading for Paris in July.

This is my third attempt at a book by Anita Brookner. The first was Hotel Du Lac which although slim I started but never finished. It was a couple of years ago now and I remember finding it just ok before something more appealing came along and I never went back to it. Not a good start considering Hotel Du Lac is her most praised novel having won the Booker Prize in 1984.

Next up was Strangers, Brookner’s latest novel published in 2009. I thought it was beautifully written but a bit melancholy for me.

So I was hoping with Leaving Home it would be third time lucky.

Leaving Home is a very intimate slice of life type story told in the first person by Emma Roberts, an introverted young woman who lives at home in London with her widowed mother. Everything about their lives is carefully controlled and predictable. Their roles are unspoken yet firmly fixed, their interactions superficial and routine, nothing out of the ordinary happens. Emma is a sensitive and insightful woman, if overly reflective and introspective, and she is acutely aware that she is living her life this way but thinks she is the sort of person for whom nothing riskier or more exciting will be possible. She is by her own admission the sort of person people take advantage of and whose life choices to date have been made by other people. In short, Emma Roberts does what other people want Emma Roberts to do.

The tiny part of her that craves something more takes her to Paris to study the seventeeth century gardens in the city, of which she plans to write a book. She takes a modest room in a hotel and despite her discomfort with this unfamiliar set up, she branches out a little, making a friend of sorts in Francoise, a flamboyant librarian and being accepted into Franoices’ beautiful family home and by her rather formidable mother Mme Desnoyers.

Emma finds herself blossoming in Paris but her upbringing and the comfort of what she knows exert a strong pull – she makes several trips between Paris and London, dealing with the deteriorating health of both the mothers, trying to decipher the relationships she is building in each city and her and other people’s expectations.

As her story evolves, she becomes stronger, more confident and more accepting of herself and her life.
Leaving Home has a timeless feel to it, it could have been set any time within the past 40 years or so and there is actually only one brief reference to the time period in the book.

With both Strangers and Leaving Home, I felt almost honoured in a way to be privy to the most private thoughts of the main characters, to share their fears and insecurities which touch on the purpose of our lives, such a personal and fundamental thing for us all.

Once again though I finished this book feeling it was all a bit gloomy.

So was it third time lucky? Perhaps it was – I suspect this won’t be the last of Anita Brookner’s books I read but I can’t quite put my finger on why! This reminds me of the way I feel about Penelope Fitzgerald, something hasn’t totally clicked but I keep going back for more….

Now I can’t wait to visit some more seasoned readers of Anita Brookner and see what they have to say about the books they read today.

Happy birthday Anita Brookner.

Review: Hotel du Lac

The lovely Polly at Novel Insights has provided the follwing review of Hotel du Lac.

Hotel du Lac by Anita BrooknerRomantic novelist Edith Hope arrives at the Hotel du Lac following some act of shame which is undisclosed at the outset of the novel.
What it had to offer was a mild form of sanctuary, an assurance of privacy, and the protection and the discretion that attach themselves to blamelessness.
She believes that the hotel will be a place of safe-harbour where she can continue with her writing and take a break from the people who resulted in her exile there. The other hotel guests become a source of interest for ‘bloomsburian’ Edith. Mrs Pusey (an ‘enchantress’) and her daughter  (‘odalisque’) Jennifer draw Edith into their superficial confidence and is a source of fascination for the writer. Their curious intimacy, their ability to find contentment in pretty purchases and strange kind of power draw Edith in.
…there was something soothing in the very existence of Mrs Pusey, a woman so gentle, so greedy, so tranquil, so utterly fulfilled in her desires that she encouraged daring thoughts of possession, of accumulation, in others.
She also meets “Lady X” owner of neurotic Kiki the lapdog. She has an ethereal quality as a result of her sinewy frame and way of moving and later her name is revealed – Monica. An elegant woman with a sharp tongue, she seems faintly disparaging of the Puseys and their simple extravagance.

Midway through the novel, it becomes apparent that a certain Mr Neville has turned his attentions to Edith and with his candid tongue he courts her in his own uniquely practical way. Can this man save Edith from her self and the life of spinsterhood that everyone else seems to be foretelling for her? What did Edith do that was so shameful?

THE Hotel du Lac of Brookner's novel
Hotel du Lac is a curious novel. It didn’t completely grab me at initially. I was drawn in by the first couple of chapters and the wonderful descriptions of the hotel and its residents on Edith’s arrival, however with my distracted mind I kept finding that I had read a page and not absorbed the content – (which is curious as this happens to the protagonist in the book itself!). A small warning that this is a slow book despite its short length. You need to marinade in it – stop and read the sentences with care absorbing the atmosphere and looking through Edith’s lens.

About halfway through Hotel du Lac, really began to click with me and I began to feel as if I was really getting under Edith’s skin. I curled up with a blanket safe from the patter of rain-drops outside and gave it my undivided attention. I began to really feel Edith’s sorrow, her need for re-assurance and really enjoyed her observations – sometimes admiring, sometimes sharply critical as a pin. I began to warm to this woman exiled by her friends, crippled by her own self-doubt and the weight of others’ opinions. I loved the idea of Edith’s stay at the hotel being a sojourn, a place where she finds out who she is and who she doesn’t want to be. The ending was dryer than a gin and tonic and just as refreshing, leaving a smile on my face and a feeling of pride for Edith.

Have you read anything by Brookner? Were you enchanted or distracted?