I’ve been out with married men. It’s definitely something to be avoided in theory but marriage just isn’t something men tend to mention on the first date. By the time they do mention it, I’m usually fed up with them anyway, so it’s a good reason for getting rid of them (and a much kinder one than ‘you’re boring me to death and I’d rather die than sleep with you’). But what if you actually like the married guy? Giving up someone you like isn’t the easiest thing in the world. Carole Matthews, in Let’s Meet on Platform 8, didn’t quite manage to keep my sympathies with all corners of her love triangle. Catherine Alliott has the same trouble. But it’s not every book that can alternate effectively between hysterical humour and devastating tragedy. A Married Man somehow manages it.
The ‘affair’ begins as a quite worrying case of stalking, but it’s easy to see how it started out. Lucy (yes another Lucy) is still grieving the loss of her husband Ned after four years, and really wants to move on - unfortunately there’s a very prevalent attitude in the world that you can’t be happy unless you’re in a relationship. This view is not only completely wrong, it’s potentially very damaging both for people who aren’t in relationships and for people who would rather be treated disgustingly by a boy/girlfriend than be single. But people get sucked into it all the same.
So perhaps it’s not very surprising when Lucy starts to feel a bit desperate, and develops a crush on a guy called Charlie whom she sees at the shops. But within a few pages, it’s become very worrying: she’s following him into shops; asking people about him under the pretence of being a friend of his; even accepting her dreaded mother-in-law Rose’s offer to go and live with her because she doesn’t live far from Charlie.
The comedy lapses a bit at that point. Lucy’s infatuation isn’t funny at all. It’s almost a relief when it turns out Charlie likes her too – at least that means he’s less likely to take out a restraining order. But another problem with the book is that I don’t know what Lucy sees in Charlie. He’s a bit creepy. So are lots of the men in this book. Out of all of them, I wanted Lucy to end up with Ned’s womanising cousin Jack as he seems by far the least dodgy (apart from the lovely gay couple, Theo and Ray, but you couldn’t split them up!).
The women, by contrast, are extremely well-characterised. Rose is terrifying, even in comparison with other mother-in-laws. Then there’s Charlie’s daughter Ellen, who might just grow up to be just like Rose; Lucy’s wonderful friends, Teresa, Jess and Rozanna (the latter one of the most remarkable creations in chick lit fiction – ‘tart with a heart’ doesn’t cover it) and her scarily competent new friend Mimsy. Poor Lucy goes from one scrape to another, and the more clichéd the situations are, the funnier Alliott somehow manages to make them.
Yet the book has a very serious side as well. It deals with bereavement for a start, not to mention obsessive behaviour. After the frivolity of much of the book, these sections are very powerful and moving. Alliott switches from one to the other with great effectiveness – actually, ‘switch’ is the wrong word because the changes are far more subtle than that. Just when you were rolling on the floor with laughter – BAM. And it works every time.
A Married Man might be frothy in places, but it’s a much more cleverly constructed book than it seems. It’s a book to make you think – not something you’d usually say about chick lit at all – and well worth a read, even if Catherine Alliott isn’t usually your kind of thing. I loved Alliott’s A Crowded Marriage, but whilst the two books have their similarities, this is on a completely different level.
Sunday 15 March 2009
Sunday 8 March 2009
Amy - Fairy Kisses
Hi Amy, if you see this I just want to say I can't view your blog. Every time I click on a post it says This blog doesn't exist. Maybe you've blocked me, I can't blame for you that as I can be quite annoying but I hope you're okay. xx
No Dress Rehearsal (Marian Keyes)**
I love Marian Keyes. I do. And she can write about death very well. No Dress Rehearsal was another great idea, but it kind of fell a bit flat, and I was left wondering what the point of it was.
The very short book – just seventy-nine pages long - tells the story of Lizzie, who dies in an accident but fails to realise she’s dead. When her partner ignores her, she assumes it was because of the row they had the morning before she died, but being ignored by everyone else seems inexplicable – until two people show up in her office, and tell her she’s dead.
It’s a great idea. I’ve read about people not realising they’re dead, but never from the point of view of the dead person.
But the book doesn’t work for me. One thing I have said about Keyes’ longer novels is that it often takes me several chapters in order to get into the story. Rachel in Rachel’s Holiday is a pretty horrible person to begin with, so it took me quite a while to learn to like her. Probably more than seventy-nine pages. I had a similar problem with Lizzie - she just didn’t seem terribly nice. As the book was so short, I didn’t really have time to get to know her. Some parts of the book were told from the point of view of Lizzie’s friend, Sinead. But I didn’t really like her either. She was okay, but a bit of a doormat, and her storyline didn’t interest me very much – it wasn’t nearly as original as Lizzie’s.
The book is, of course, wonderfully written, and there was a bit of humour – more than you’d expect from a book with a death theme, although anyone wanting to see bereavement and comedy put together effectively might prefer to read Catherine Alliott’s A Married Man.
But No Dress Rehrearsal just didn’t quite work. Not for me, anyway. This is possibly because it is aimed at adults who have trouble reading - but I would say an adult who has trouble reading needs a good book a lot more than I do. I'm not going to give up on reading because one book (okay, more than one!) disappointed me. This book could be making people decide whether they take up reading or not. Reading can probably enhance everyone's lives if they find the right book - so a book like No Dress Rehearsal really needs to be good. But then I am the fussiest person in the world, so maybe this book works really well!
The very short book – just seventy-nine pages long - tells the story of Lizzie, who dies in an accident but fails to realise she’s dead. When her partner ignores her, she assumes it was because of the row they had the morning before she died, but being ignored by everyone else seems inexplicable – until two people show up in her office, and tell her she’s dead.
It’s a great idea. I’ve read about people not realising they’re dead, but never from the point of view of the dead person.
But the book doesn’t work for me. One thing I have said about Keyes’ longer novels is that it often takes me several chapters in order to get into the story. Rachel in Rachel’s Holiday is a pretty horrible person to begin with, so it took me quite a while to learn to like her. Probably more than seventy-nine pages. I had a similar problem with Lizzie - she just didn’t seem terribly nice. As the book was so short, I didn’t really have time to get to know her. Some parts of the book were told from the point of view of Lizzie’s friend, Sinead. But I didn’t really like her either. She was okay, but a bit of a doormat, and her storyline didn’t interest me very much – it wasn’t nearly as original as Lizzie’s.
The book is, of course, wonderfully written, and there was a bit of humour – more than you’d expect from a book with a death theme, although anyone wanting to see bereavement and comedy put together effectively might prefer to read Catherine Alliott’s A Married Man.
But No Dress Rehrearsal just didn’t quite work. Not for me, anyway. This is possibly because it is aimed at adults who have trouble reading - but I would say an adult who has trouble reading needs a good book a lot more than I do. I'm not going to give up on reading because one book (okay, more than one!) disappointed me. This book could be making people decide whether they take up reading or not. Reading can probably enhance everyone's lives if they find the right book - so a book like No Dress Rehearsal really needs to be good. But then I am the fussiest person in the world, so maybe this book works really well!
Sunday 1 March 2009
The House at Riverton (Kate Morton)****
You know the main climax of The House at Riverton just from reading the blurb.
But don’t let that put you off. The blurb actually tells you very little, and, in giving up before you’ve read the book, you’d miss so much.
The story is complex and fascinating. Housemaid Grace joins the staff at Riverton, and forms a bond with the two daughters of the house, Hannah and Emmeline. The story is told from Grace’s point of view, and spans almost a century, as Grace rises from lowly housemaid to lady’s maid to becoming a lady in her own right. It shows how the Victorian world was suddenly transformed into one shockingly close to the world of today, with love affairs, sex outside marriage, and even nightclubs.
Kate Morton writes beautifully, describing the actions, the characters and Grace’s surroundings all in lovely, lyrical prose. Unusually, the protagonist, Grace, doesn’t have much of an effect on the action. Her job requires her to be silent, and to observe. Mostly, the action focuses on Hannah and Emmeline, and Grace does little more than witness it. Yet she seems a very vibrant character despite all this. She responds to everything. She observes everything in an non-judgemental way, just accepting everything that happens, but her feelings of interest; of care for the characters make her into a big and important character. Morton could easily have told the story without Grace, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as fascinating.
This is partly because Grace is such an interesting character, but also because no-one else could really have told the story. Emmeline is important, but absent for much of it. Much of the story hinges on what she doesn’t know.
Hannah is also a great character, but part of her allure is in her mystery. Grace can never know Hannah completely because, of course, there is a limit to what Hannah will tell a servant, even one for whom she develops some fondness. But part of the fascination with Hannah is that she’s so unpredictable. You never know what she will do in any given situation. Had the story been told from Hannah’s point of view, we would probably have seen a lot more of the reasoning behind Hannah’s decisions, and that would probably have made her more predictable and consequently less interesting.
There is also a ‘framing’ storyline set in modern times, where a film is made about Hannah and Emmeline’s life. Grace, now ninety-eight, meets the producer and other people involved in the film, including the young actress who is to play the role of Grace (somewhat cheekily named Keira). We also see Grace’s relationships with her daughter, her grandson, and Sylvia, who looks after her in the retirement home. There is not a great deal of story set in the present, but there is so much to hold your interest.
But there are times when the book drags a bit. There are sections where not a lot happens, and I’d have preferred it if these sections were either cut completely (it’s a very long book as it is) or for them to be replaced by something that helps one or more of the storylines along.
Also, the final climax has weaknesses. While Morton builds up to this moment very effectively, and there is (most of the time) far too much going on for you to be waiting impatiently for that part of the book to happen (if I read about something in the blurb that sounds good, I often want it to happen RIGHT NOW). But the climax is indirectly caused by one particular incident in the book that seemed a bit weak and desultory when it happens, and certainly doesn’t really need to be dragged on for years. I’m not going into detail though because I don’t want to put people off. It’s disappointing, considering what Morton has achieved in this novel, but it’s no reason to give the book a miss.
The House at Riverton isn’t perfect all the way through, but the good bits are amazing, and I haven’t read another book like it.
But don’t let that put you off. The blurb actually tells you very little, and, in giving up before you’ve read the book, you’d miss so much.
The story is complex and fascinating. Housemaid Grace joins the staff at Riverton, and forms a bond with the two daughters of the house, Hannah and Emmeline. The story is told from Grace’s point of view, and spans almost a century, as Grace rises from lowly housemaid to lady’s maid to becoming a lady in her own right. It shows how the Victorian world was suddenly transformed into one shockingly close to the world of today, with love affairs, sex outside marriage, and even nightclubs.
Kate Morton writes beautifully, describing the actions, the characters and Grace’s surroundings all in lovely, lyrical prose. Unusually, the protagonist, Grace, doesn’t have much of an effect on the action. Her job requires her to be silent, and to observe. Mostly, the action focuses on Hannah and Emmeline, and Grace does little more than witness it. Yet she seems a very vibrant character despite all this. She responds to everything. She observes everything in an non-judgemental way, just accepting everything that happens, but her feelings of interest; of care for the characters make her into a big and important character. Morton could easily have told the story without Grace, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as fascinating.
This is partly because Grace is such an interesting character, but also because no-one else could really have told the story. Emmeline is important, but absent for much of it. Much of the story hinges on what she doesn’t know.
Hannah is also a great character, but part of her allure is in her mystery. Grace can never know Hannah completely because, of course, there is a limit to what Hannah will tell a servant, even one for whom she develops some fondness. But part of the fascination with Hannah is that she’s so unpredictable. You never know what she will do in any given situation. Had the story been told from Hannah’s point of view, we would probably have seen a lot more of the reasoning behind Hannah’s decisions, and that would probably have made her more predictable and consequently less interesting.
There is also a ‘framing’ storyline set in modern times, where a film is made about Hannah and Emmeline’s life. Grace, now ninety-eight, meets the producer and other people involved in the film, including the young actress who is to play the role of Grace (somewhat cheekily named Keira). We also see Grace’s relationships with her daughter, her grandson, and Sylvia, who looks after her in the retirement home. There is not a great deal of story set in the present, but there is so much to hold your interest.
But there are times when the book drags a bit. There are sections where not a lot happens, and I’d have preferred it if these sections were either cut completely (it’s a very long book as it is) or for them to be replaced by something that helps one or more of the storylines along.
Also, the final climax has weaknesses. While Morton builds up to this moment very effectively, and there is (most of the time) far too much going on for you to be waiting impatiently for that part of the book to happen (if I read about something in the blurb that sounds good, I often want it to happen RIGHT NOW). But the climax is indirectly caused by one particular incident in the book that seemed a bit weak and desultory when it happens, and certainly doesn’t really need to be dragged on for years. I’m not going into detail though because I don’t want to put people off. It’s disappointing, considering what Morton has achieved in this novel, but it’s no reason to give the book a miss.
The House at Riverton isn’t perfect all the way through, but the good bits are amazing, and I haven’t read another book like it.
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