Showing posts with label Modern classic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Modern classic. Show all posts

Sunday, 21 July 2019

We of the Never-Never, Jeannie Gunn



In 1902 Jeannie Gunn, a teacher from Melbourne, moved with her husband Aeneas to Elsey in the Northern Territory. We of the Never-Never is an account of her year there. Her friends at home tried to dissuade her from going and the locals were less than keen to have a woman there, but with time her expectations changed and she threw herself into bush life, making friends and earning the respect of the indigenous people that educated her on the ways of life in the bush.

The tale is not one of high adventure but everyday life in a harsh landscape. The postman visits eight times a year and Gunn is impressed by his endless good humour and punctuality despite the hardships of his job – his predecessor died on his route. The way in which humans are beholden to the land, becoming trapped by the Wet or Dry alternately, is made abundantly clear. The misunderstanding of life in the bush by those in the South is commented on. They wonder how bush-folk fill their time little understanding the challenges of survival and the beauty of life there. ‘Speed’s the thing,’ cries the world, and speeds on, gaining little but speed; and we bush-folk travel our sixty miles [in three days] and gain all that is worth gaining – except speed.’

Having been written at the start of the twentieth century some of the language used can be offensive to modern readers, but there is a glimmer of modernity in her comments on the hypocrisy of colonialists who criticize the violence of the indigenous people while taking their land by force, not to mention the way in which they treated the captives brought with them.

An enlightening read on a way of life so different to that of a city dweller. Gunn is honest in her tales, including moments where she is laughed at and being open about how unprepared she was. During her year in Elsey she comes to have great affection for the land and its people and although I can’t help wondering if the locals would really have agreed with her including herself in ‘us bush-folk’ having spent only one year there, it nonetheless aids in telling stories that would otherwise go untold.

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Foyles
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Wednesday, 1 May 2019

Duo & Le Toutounier, Colette (trans. by Margaret Crosland)

* Spoiler warning - Le Toutounier continues the story of characters from Duo. This review will therefore contain some spoilers *

Duo portrays an uncomfortable time in the marriage of Alice and Michel as they try to navigate the difficult fact of her previous infidelity. They work together to put on shows and work is important to Alice as she was brought up with her sisters to understand the importance of earning their keep. The potential disintegration of her marriage therefore poses a double threat as it could also limit her ability to work.

The book doesn’t detail an explosive argument, instead we’re witness to the intensely uncomfortable days where they’re being overly careful around each other, admitting difficult truths and occasionally behaving spitefully. Their gentle breakdown is unbearable but contrasts to the suggestion that Maria, their servant, is being abused by her husband. There is also some subtle suggestion that there may be some force used between Michel and Alice too but it is never detailed. A theme that will continue into Le Toutounier is that of keeping up appearances and the toll it can take.

Le Toutounier follows on from Duo – Alice is still in mourning for Michel and has returned to Paris and two of her sisters, Hermine and Colombe. In some ways they seem close but it is also shown that they do not pry into each other’s lives. Even when Hermine bursts into tears during a meal they do not press her as to why, preferring instead to pretend nothing has happened. Both Colombe and Hermine have fallen for married men and almost envy Alice for having lost her husband to death rather than choice. This is clearly a callous opinion and Alice feels that her sisters don’t feel they can behave with her as they used to. They don’t discuss Michel’s death or the events preceeding it.

I found Le Toutounier a more absorbing read than Duo. The sisters’ relationship with each other is curious and their dalliances with married men are generally kept at the periphery until absolutely necessary to be brought to the fore, fitting in with the assertion that Colette was generally disinterested in her male characters. Their approach to sexual relations is not what you might expect – they do not crave marriage and seemingly feel no remorse for their affairs, at one point it is suggested that one takes pleasure in knowing the misery they cause. Colombe is nonetheless quite innocent and Alice always insisted on twin beds in her marriage, contradicting the bohemian lifestyle suggested by some readers.

Their cramped living conditions and financial struggles are an interesting insight into the lives of unmarried women in the first half of the twentieth century. An intriguing novella in which much depth is hinted at allowing the reader to fill in their backstories from the snippets Colette cleverly reveals.

Wednesday, 24 April 2019

The Age of Reason, Jean-Paul Sartre


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The first in Sartre’s Roads to Freedom series, The Age of Reason introduces us to Mathieu Delarue and his circle of friends in Paris, 1938. He is a philosophy teacher and obsessed with the idea of freedom, refusing to commit to his mistress of seven years, Marcelle. When he accidentally gets her pregnant he is forced to question his life decisions as he tries to raise the required sum for a relatively safe abortion. The action takes place over only a couple of days, a surprising fact to be reminded of when it feels so much has happened.

We never see Mathieu teaching but he does spend time with young students – Ivich who he loves and Boris who is so obsessed with youth he is convinced he will kill himself when he reaches thirty. They are immature and shallow and yet Mathieu clings to their company as a way of holding on to his now fading youth. His brother Jacques points out that his determination to retain freedom is really an attempt to escape responsibility and commitment.

‘I should myself have thought,’ said Jacques,’ that freedom consisted in frankly confronting situations into which one had deliberately entered, and accepting all one’s responsibilities. But that, no doubt, is not your view; you condemn capitalist society, and yet you are an official in that society; you display an abstract sympathy with Communists, but you take care not to commit yourself, you have never voted. You despise the bourgeois class, and yet you are a bourgeois, son and brother of a bourgeois, and you live like a bourgeois.’ (p.107)

In reality Jacques is little better than Mathieu. He lived carelessly and selfishly until the opportunity to marry into wealth presented itself.

There are not many likable characters in the book. Mathieu cares enough for Marcelle to try to secure a safe abortion but has not the presence of mind to ask if that is what she wants. Boris proves himself callous and foolish – believing a close acquaintance has died it is disgust rather than grief that he feels. Daniel manipulates Mathieu, refusing to lend money he easily could and attempting to trap him into marrying Marcelle. He plays with their lives for sport and although by the end seems to have gained something of a conscience, the solution he suggests foreshadows misery ahead.

An interesting novel set in a time of great turmoil for Europe with characters largely too wrapped up in their individual concerns to involve themselves in the wider world. War is at the periphery however and gives insight into some of the characters. Those reading the novel in their late 20s/early 30s will recognize the turmoil of transitioning into ‘the age of reason’ and it will make you question your own moral compass.

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Foyles
Waterstones

Wednesday, 21 November 2018

The Day of the Triffids, John Wyndham

Bill Masen is hospitalized after a triffid attack, meaning he misses the meteor show that everyone else enjoys. His disgruntlement at having missed out soon proves misplaced as he discovers the widespread blindness that has occurred as a result. As he wanders the streets trying to work out what has happened he rescues another sighted person, Josella Playton, from her violent captor. It quickly becomes apparent that their sight puts them in danger and they make the difficult decision not to reveal their ability on grounds of self-preservation. All around are despairing, many preferring death to a life spent in darkness.

Other groups reveal themselves, each with their own ideas of how they should proceed, causing factions and separations. They try their best to survive with ever decreasing supplies and increasingly numerous triffids. There’s also a mysterious illness wiping out large swathes of the population that nobody is qualified to treat.

The book raises a lot of questions about humanity and our imagined superiority over nature. Previous to the disaster Bill had a colleague who believed triffids would take over if human sight was lost. It was our only advantage, and with the triffids already adapted to a sightless life they would have the upper hand. He was dismissed as having absurd ideas – imagine if the triffids had agency. The novel proves that they do, raising the question of how moral their treatment had been. It also leaves us with a sense that nature will survive long after humanity has exhausted itself, and that we will bring destruction on ourselves. Although written in 1951 this is a message that feels particularly pertinent today.

The writing is very much of its time and allusions to the Soviet Union as a place of mystery and secrecy play into the concerns of the day. The inevitable power struggle and attempts to give survivors something to believe in feels timeless however, and it is clear why this book continues to capture the imagination of its audiences.

Sunday, 17 June 2018

Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier

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Du Maurier’s most popular novel is narrated by the unnamed second wife of Maxim de Winter, broody owner of Manderley, his ancestral home. It is so vividly described and central to the novel that it almost becomes a character in its own right. The couple meet in the South of France les than a year after the death of his first wife, Rebecca. Even during the proposal he expresses no love for the timid narrator and she naively accepts, thinking she is freeing herself from her servitude of companion to Mrs Van Hopper but condemning herself to a passionless marriage and a similar subservient companionship.

On their return to Manderley she struggles with the ghost of Rebecca whose beauty and talents were beloved of almost all. Mrs Danvers, the housekeeper, was particularly devoted to her and frightens the new Mrs de Winter, ensuring that she always feels inferior. In the final quarter of the novel a revelation gives the young bride hope of happiness only for it quickly to be torn away in the dramatic conclusion.

Despite only appearing in memory and imagination it is Rebecca that endures for the reader. The narrator becomes exasperating with her endless doubts and unwillingness to assert any authority. The secret that releases her from her jealousy and inferiority does not paint her in a positive light and she seems selfish in her obsession with being freed from Rebecca’s presence. In saying that, the reader has become so entangled in her narrative that you can’t help but hope events unfold as she wishes, making you question your morals.

The novel dissects the role of women and the expectations of femininity, something which it is said du Maurier struggled with herself. She was shy and did not enjoy entertaining and yet Rebecca also reflects aspects of her creator’s personality in her sexual liberation and aptitude at sailing. The fact she makes Rebecca the stronger, more memorable character may hint at where she felt her true self lay.

This atmospheric novel examines the complex jealousy of a second wife, a topic not often discussed in fiction. We feel so vividly the presence of Rebecca as we walk in the footsteps of the paranoid narrator. Du Maurier successfully created a sense of place so believable we feel as though we have wandered its corridors and explored the gardens. The claustrophobia felt by the narrator is palpable and makes for a disturbing read. 

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