Categories
Australian Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘Cloudstreet’ (1991) by Tim Winton

“Life was something you didn’t argue with, because when it came down to it, whether you barracked for God or nothing at all, life was all there was. And death.”

One of the great Australian novels, I was gifted Cloudstreet by my parents ahead of a big solo trip to Australia – my first visit to one of my now favourite countries. There was something extra special about reading it while I was in Australia. I am a fan of epic novels and have reviewed several on this blog to date, and this one certainly doesn’t disappoint.

Forced by separate personal tragedies, in 1943 two poor families – the Pickles and the Lambs – leave their rural homes and come to Perth, Western Australia, where they share a large house called Cloudstreet. Left to the Pickles by a relative, they rent out half the house to the Lambs, who open a grocery store on the ground floor. The Pickles family comprises parents Sam and Dolly, plus children Rose, Ted and Chub. Sam and Oriel Lamb are parents to Mason (nicknamed Quick), Samson (nicknamed Fish), Hattie, Elaine, Red and Lon.

Over the next twenty years, the two families live side by side and we live with them through their experiences, relationships and hardships. While major events in the world occur throughout the story such as the end of WWII, the Korean War and the assassination of JFK, these only distantly impact the Pickles and the Lambs. Cloudstreet filters worldly events through a domestic, rooted lens. We learn that the Pickles have got by on luck and will shirk work where possible whereas the Lambs are devoutly religious and value hard work to achieve God’s grace.

The theme of community persists throughout Cloudstreet – it celebrates it as the two families learn to live alongside each other. Connections to the past, to each other and to one’s environment also come through strongly. While some family members do at points venture away from Cloudstreet, the house is at the centre of the novel.

Winton’s writing style in Cloudstreet is beguiling and quite unlike any other epic novel I have read. Paired with the ups, downs and growing up that the families go through over the twenty year period, Cloudstreet makes for a captivating read and an eye-opening look into the lives of ordinary people in mid-century Australia.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
American Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘Play It As It Lays’ (1970) by Joan Didion

“There was silence. Something real was happening: this was, as it were, her life. If she could keep that in mind she would be able to play it through, do the right thing, whatever that meant.”

Play It As It Lays is my first foray into the writing of famed twentieth-century writer Joan Didion. I agree with its label of an instant classic and can see why it is credited for helping to define modern American fiction.

The relatively short novel follows 31-year-old former model and actress Maria Wyeth. It is made up of Maria’s stream of consciousness after a stint in a psychiatric hospital as well as flashbacks which hint at her impending mental breakdown. We hear about several disturbing occurrences that play a part in Maria’s collapse and indicate why she chooses to withdraw from the world and become entirely numb to her surroundings, even when they are morally ambiguous.

Play It As It Lays is undoubtedly a blistering dissection of American life in the late 1960s. Set in California, the novel captures not only the illusory glamour of life in Hollywood but also the culture at the time – namely, an entire generation feeling the ennui of contemporary society in a swiftly modernising world. The sparse, intense prose further emphasises this, showing not only Maria in crisis but a whole society.

Divorce, illegal abortion, drug and alcohol abuse, infidelity, mistreatment by men and loneliness plague Maria and her friends’ lives. Maria begins compulsively driving into the Mojave Desert for hours at a time as well as suffering from delusions as a result. It is a compelling but disturbing look at the gradual shattering of a young woman who should be in her prime.

I would highly recommend Play It As It Lays – while not particularly joyful, it is a riveting look at the broken façade of the young Hollywood American Dream.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
American Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘Cassandra at the Wedding’ (1962) by Dorothy Baker

Blog 52

“So go, girl. We should have been one person all along, not two.” 

I thoroughly enjoyed Cassandra at the Wedding, getting through it in a couple of days as I was so enthralled by the impossible, brilliant protagonist Cassandra Edwards. Baker has produced what the blurb describes as an ‘entrancing tragicomic novella’ and I can only agree with this conclusion.

Our heroine Cassandra is a graduate student at Berkeley, who is on her way home to her family ranch in the foothills of the Sierras to attend her identical twin Judith’s wedding to a young doctor from Connecticut. However, Cassandra – at once brilliant, frenzied, nerve-wracked and miserable – is determined to do whatever it takes to ruin the wedding and ‘save’ her sister. It is impossible to predict the course of action which Cassandra at the Wedding takes; besides the plan to sabotage, Cassandra must also grapple with her complex feelings towards her family. Namely Judith who Cassandra believes should be her alter-ego, plus her whiskey-soaked father, her dead mother and her kindly grandmother. This book is a story of self-discovery, family relationships and facing your feelings.

There is something about characters named Cassandra; though the Cassandra in this novel is more emotionally unstable, she is as vibrant and interesting to read as the Cassandra of Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle. Both are frank, open and highly captivating. Throughout the course of Cassandra at the Wedding, we witness Cassandra variously as heartbroken, pitiful, conniving, unsure, self-aware, absurd, intelligent – yet always impossibly sympathetic and at times highly amusing. Despite the book being published just over 60 years ago, Cassandra is enduringly modern, insightful and relatable to twentysomethings today. Baker clearly has an adept understanding of the complexities of the heart and soul, and I was very sad to say goodbye to Cassandra as I reluctantly finished the novel.

An enduring theme of Cassandra at the Wedding is sisterhood, which is particularly strong in this instance because Cassandra and Judith are identical twins. For Cassandra, it is difficult to accept the fact that Judith decided to go to a different college and there met a man she wants to marry, who will thus become extremely important in her life. It is quite clear that Cassandra is in some ways enveloped in a childlike fantasy of the sisters always remaining inseparable and Judith remaining under her influence; this indicates why she feels compelled to sabotage the wedding and ‘save’ her sister from a situation that Cassandra cannot believe she would want to be in. Yet at the same time, Cassandra is desperate to establish herself as an independent person from her sister, creating an interesting paradox. It is significant that for a small section of the novel, Baker switches the narrator from Cassandra to Judith so we hear her perspective first-hand, understanding them both as individuals but also witnessing the unknowable bond shared between twins.

I would highly recommend Cassandra at the Wedding for anyone seeking a read full of freshness, emotion, plot twists and vigor. For me, it will become one of those books that I wish I could read again for the first time!

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
American Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘Demon Copperhead’ (2022), by Barbara Kingsolver

Blog 50

“A kid is a terrible thing to be, in charge of nothing.”

Demon Copperhead

I had high hopes for Demon Copperhead based on how much I enjoyed Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible, and it did not disappoint. The novel is a re-telling of Dickens’ quasi-autobiographical Bildungsroman David Copperfield; it’s a brave thing for Kingsolver to transpose such a popular, quintessentially English novel to her home turf of Appalachia in the States but she does it extremely well in this powerful, considered novel.

The novel’s hero Damon Fields, known as Demon and nicknamed Copperhead for his ginger hair, is born to a drug-using teenage single mother in a trailer in Lee County, Virginia. Even in such a deprived neighbourhood, Demon and his mother are particularly destitute. The kind-hearted Peggot family act as Demon’s secondary caregivers as his mother is in and out of rehab or shacking up with merciless boyfriends, but there is only so much outsiders can do for a child in such circumstances. Those familiar with the plot of David Copperfield may guess what happens next, but we follow Demon to young adulthood through the apathy and incompetence of the foster care system, the good and bad influences of friends he makes along the way, the struggle against the opioid crisis sweeping America and his ultimate battle to transcend the failure of those around him.

As a reader, you can’t help but feel shocked at what Demon and swathes of children like him must deal with from such a young age. He is born into a dead-end situation which reeks of the failed American Dream – for Demon, simply surviving against the odds is success when you’re born into a life without choices. The themes of idealism and social justice chime with Dickens’ own impassioned social criticism, and while what we deem as immoral has shifted greatly since the mid-nineteenth century, the earnest critique of institutional poverty and its detrimental impact on children is as relevant as ever. For me, Demon Copperhead also bears striking similarities to Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch, where a young boy also falls victim to the failings of modern America – drugs, poverty, apathy – after the loss of a parent, and must struggle on to adulthood alone.

Kingsolver has created a masterful retelling of a classic novel which is both faithful to the source material and tells its own story, making the reader question whether anything has really changed for the better in the past 150 years for those less fortunate.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
Australian Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘The Thorn Birds’ (1977) By Colleen McCullough

Blog 43

“When we press the thorn to our chest we know, we understand, and still we do it.”

I was so glad to be able to read The Thorn Birds for a second time for the blog. It is one of those novels that stays with you a long time after you finish reading it. Australia’s best-selling novel to date, this epic story spanning five decades is a tale of family, hard work and relationships set against the intoxicating backdrop of the beautiful but unforgiving New South Wales.

The central character of The Thorn Birds is Meggie Cleary, though several characters get their own sections. We begin in 1915 on Meggie’s 4th birthday. The Clearys – parents Paddy and Fee and their children Bob, Jack, Hughie, Stu, Meggie and Frank (Fee’s son from a previous relationship) – are a poor but hard-working family living in New Zealand. In 1921, Paddy’s wealthy sister Mary Carson offers Paddy a job on her huge sheep farming station in New South Wales, Australia. Drogheda, after its namesake in Ireland, is where most of the novel takes place.

It is here that we meet the ambitious young priest, Father Ralph de Bricassart, who is described as a ‘beautiful man’. He is a frequent visitor to Mary Carson in the hope that a large financial bequest from her will see him rise up in the Catholic Church and freed from the remote parish of Gillanbone, not far from Drogheda. He immediately develops a fondness for Meggie, and their complex relationship over the years is central to the novel.

Across the fifty-year span of The Thorn Birds the Clearys encounter birth, death, marriage, heartbreak, separation and the untamed might of the Australian wilderness in this truly absorbing novel.

A standout feature of The Thorn Birds for me are the descriptions of the Australian landscape. Whether it’s tumbling hibiscus and Bougainvillea, ghost gum and bottle trees standing tall or the endlessly sprawling paddocks of Drogheda, it is hard not to be mesmerised by such a rich environment. It also becomes very apparent how much humans are at the mercy of nature. Across the novel we see how drought and heat can cripple a community, while intense torrents of rain can be relentless all wet season. During one tragic moment, one strike of lightning engulfs much of Drogheda in a blazing fire, causing loss and heartache for all the Clearys. The environmental aspect of the novel emphasises that though it is beautiful, the kind of life led by the Clearys is neither gentle nor easy.

The novel’s central storyline is the relationship between Meggie and Ralph. When they meet, Meggie is nine years old and Ralph is twenty-seven. There is an immediate chemistry between them; Meggie is instantly enchanted by Ralph, while Ralph becomes extremely infatuated with and protective of her. As Meggie grows into womanhood, their relationship grows more complex. It is quite clear that Ralph desires a sexual and romantic relationship with Meggie, but his vow of celibacy as a priest forbids him from pursuing this. Meggie has been in love with Ralph in one form or another since her childhood, and this also becomes a romantic and sexual desire in her late teens.

When I first read the novel several years ago, I think I was more taken with the common view that their love story was tragically romantic. Ralph is consistently described as a very handsome, kind man who even for the love of his life will not abandon his vow. For many years Meggie will not give any other man the time of day and has dreamed of only Ralph since her childhood.

However, upon second reading I found the relationship to be much more disturbing. What is abundantly clear to me is that Ralph de Bricassart, an adult for the entire story, manipulates Meggie Cleary from her childhood for an eventual sexual relationship once both are adults. During their first time having sex, Ralph admits to himself that he groomed or “molded” Meggie all along, albeit unconsciously. 

Truly she was made for him, for he had made her; for sixteen years he had shaped and molded her without knowing that he did, let alone why he did. And he forgot that he had ever given her away, that another man had shown her the end of what he had begun for himself, had always intended for himself, for she was his downfall, his rose; his creation.”

Father Ralph de Bricassart

The Thorn Birds was written in the 1970s and the focus is on a romanticised struggle between Ralph’s duty to the church and his feelings towards Meggie as a mere mortal man. The repeated emphasis on Ralph’s handsomeness and his rise up the church portrays him as being alluring and forbidden – it is playing into the trope of priests being fetishized due to their celibacy. Meggie’s lifelong love and pursuance of Ralph could also be seen as enduringly romantic and something to root for.

However, through the modern lens it is difficult to see it this way, particularly given the numerous stories that have been unearthed about sexual abuse within the Catholic church. The idea of fetishising a priest these days would therefore be wholly unusual. The large age gap also raises concerns for the modern reader. Meggie’s entire misguided idea of what love is, is based on Ralph. From girlish daydreams to repeated attempts to get him to break his vow. Ralph does not instil appropriate boundaries with her when she is an impressionable child; he is overbearingly affectionate, protective and it is something that would not be acceptable in today’s society.

Despite this, The Thorn Birds remains a captivating and emotionally charged novel, with every character gaining the reader’s sympathy, pity and disdain at various points throughout the story. I would absolutely recommend this novel – it is an unputdownable epic novel.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
American Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘My Monticello’ (2021) by Jocelyn Nicole Johnson

Blog 42

“The seas are rising, whatever you believe. Soon we will all be wet together, and together we will gasp for air.…”

My Monticello is Johnson’s debut novel, and it is a truly American tragedy. It explores racist violence in the nation and how its controversial history is still impacting ideologies and attitudes in the modern day. 

The novel covers a period of only nineteen days, though things escalate quickly. Power outages and storms are battering America when the neighbourhood of First Street in Charlottesville, Virginia is attacked by white supremacists. A motley crew of residents manage to flee the scene by commandeering an empty city bus and seek refuge at Monticello, the nearby historic plantation-home of Thomas Jefferson. Narrated by student Da’Naisha Love, a young black descendant of Jefferson and Sally Hemings, one of his slaves, she and the other escapees have a complex relationship with the plantation. The group must shelter within its walls, forage the grounds and think about their next move, as the terror from the town creeps ever closer. My Monticello is a stark criticism of past and present racism, and its characters tell a story of courage, reclamation, resistance, community and hope.

The chilling aspect of My Monticello is that you could relate the events of the story to any period in modern American history, indicating that race relations have not much improved since the era of slavery. Indeed, Charlottesville did face a racist attack in 2017 when a white supremacist drove headlong into a crowd peacefully protesting against a Unite the Right rally in the city, killing one and injuring many others. My Monticello spirals out from here, set in the near future when the impact of climate change is being keenly felt, with the resulting blackouts and floods providing opportunities for white supremacist groups to once again lay siege to Charlottesville’s black neighbourhoods with little intervention from police. It is a worrying look into the future for America as racial tensions continue to escalate and warnings about irrevocable damage to the planet become more urgent. There is a terrible irony about Da’Naisha and the others, including her elderly grandmother, having to seek refuge in the Monticello mansion house – they are driven up there by the cold and looming threat of the attacks after initially remaining down in the outbuildings. It is a macabre homecoming for these descendants of Jefferson and only adds to the American nightmare they are suffering.

Johnson’s narrative style for Da’Naisha is precise and remains graceful despite the fearful situation of the group. Short sentences, brief and incomplete dialogue exchanges and the air of concern for the future among the refugees adds to the urgency of their situation. Readers will be impressed by the group’s pragmatism and resistance despite their being heavily outnumbered and out-resourced by the encroaching attackers, mirroring historic resistance from black slaves against their white owners. And yet, the reader is also horrified by the hopelessness of their situation in a country that is seemingly unravelling.

My Monticello is a severely critical take on racism past and present, highlighting many of America’s issues in only 178 pages. It is a unique and thought-provoking debut novel that tackles uncomfortable subject matter in an imaginative and memorable way.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
American Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘The Goldfinch’ (2014) by Donna Tartt

Blog 39

“Caring too much for objects can destroy you. Only—if you care for a thing enough, it takes on a life of its own, doesn’t it? And isn’t the whole point of things—beautiful things—that they connect you to some larger beauty?”

I have now finished Donna Tartt’s trifecta of outstanding novels. For me, none can beat The Secret History, but The Goldfinch is still worthy of its reputation as an outstanding novel and a modern epic. It is an emotional and melancholy look into just how murky life can become after experiencing tragedy, trauma and neglect.

The Goldfinch opens in New York City on thirteen-year-old Theodore Decker, the son of a devoted mother and an absent father. One unfortunate day, Theo’s life is ripped apart when his mother is killed in a terrorist explosion while they are visiting Metropolitan Museum of Art together. Utterly alone and longing for his mother, he is taken in by the family of a wealthy friend, before being shipped off to Las Vegas to live with his father and his girlfriend. Traumatised by the loss of his mother, he holds dear something that reminds him of her, their favourite painting from the Met, The Goldfinch. Known only to Theo is that he has the original 1654 painting by Dutch artist Fabritius in his possession, which he took from the gallery in the wake of the explosion. Faced with neglect and indifference in Las Vegas, Theo finds solace in his friend Boris and in their descent into drugs and alcohol. Ultimately, in adulthood the painting draws him back to New York to revive old acquaintances and slowly drives him into the criminal underworld.

For me, one of the most poignant sections of The Goldfinch is Theo’s time as a young teenager in a Las Vegas suburb. Comprising of soulless new-build homes cut off from the city, most of which are empty or crumbling and some of which have even reclaimed by the Nevada desert, it feels like a metaphor for the failed American Dream. This becomes even more evident when we witness how neither Theo nor Boris have anyone in the world who cares about them, despite the fact that they both live with a parent. They often go hungry because nobody thinks to feed them and they resort to stealing. Theo’s situation at home improves only when his father’s gambling habits are going well. Both affected by trauma and with nothing to do and nobody to wonder about them, Theo and Boris are in and out of school, and spend their evenings getting drunk and high on whatever drug they can find. It is quite shocking to read about such young teenagers drinking until they’re sick or taking acid with no parental awareness or care for what they’re doing. Theo narrates this portion of his life in such a lucid and resigned way that it feels like he has accepted the fact that one tragic incident knocked him into a different life, one that is consumed by loneliness, substance abuse and monotony. 

Like Tartt’s other two novels, the research and attention to detail are remarkable. The Goldfinch allows a rare glimpse into the world of art and antiques, and the murky underworld that accompanies them. As an adult Theo has learnt the antiques trade, including how to restore pieces falling to ruin. He works in New York with Hobie, the business partner of a man who spent his last minutes with Theo in the aftermath of the explosion. Every choice and every relationship Theo has comes back to the incident and the taking of the Goldfinch painting. Twists and turns, his continued reliance on drugs and his guardianship of the painting eventually brings him back in touch with old friends from the city and Boris, and reluctantly pulls him into the greedy world of criminal art fraud and theft which leads to a page-turning bid for escape. The Goldfinch has many elements of a Shakespearean tragedy set against a modern and truly American backdrop.

Overall, The Goldfinch is an extraordinary novel that opens up a world that most of us know little about. Through watching Theo’s life and how young he experiences darker elements of adulthood, it is hard not to think that he is just a boy trying to muddle through after the devastating loss of his mother.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
World literature

ImoReads… ‘Conversations with Friends’ (2017) by Sally Rooney

Blog 38

“Everyone’s always going through something, aren’t they? That’s life, basically. It’s just more and more things to go through.”

I first read Conversations with Friends in 2018 shortly after it was published, and I thought it was one of the most captivating and relevant novels of recent times. I have recently re-read it now that  the hotly anticipated TV adaptation is out, and it did not disappoint on second reading. From the young and incredibly talented Irish author Sally Rooney, Conversations with Friends is a truthful, sharp, witty and sometimes cruel novel about the realities of love and youth.

Set in Dublin, Conversations with Friends follows Frances and her best friend (and ex-girlfriend) Bobbi. Both university students, Frances and Bobbi often perform poetry together at spoken word events on the Dublin literary scene, and it is at one such event that they catch the attention of Melissa, a journalist and photographer in her thirties. Melissa invites the two friends into her home where they meet her husband Nick, an actor. The lives of these two sets of people become increasingly tangled as Frances and Nick begin an affair and Bobbi and Melissa grow closer, causing emotions to run high in this novel of intense clarity and vulnerability that examines the pitfalls of adult relationships.

Something that critics praised across the board when Conversations with Friends was published was Rooney’s unique prose style. As the narrator, Frances speaks to the reader with such a sharp lucidity and thrilling confidence, and there is little in the way of figurative or ornamental language. This style allows Rooney to write extremely well on the condition of youth and the mental and physical turmoils which can accompany it, and I am glad that I was able to read it for the first time when I was the same age as Frances and Bobbi. The lack of floral, descriptive language means that the four central characters are the focus, and Rooney gives each of them convincing layers of fragility and tentativeness as well as strength and wit, making for a real page-turner of a social drama.

Sex is a leading theme throughout the book as it ties the four main characters together. Frances and Bobbi used to be a couple and remain best friends, though they have moments of sexual chemistry within this story. Melissa is bisexual like Frances and Bobbi is gay; it is quite clear that Bobbi is attracted to Melissa and we find out that they kiss at least once. Frances and Nick begin an affair, while Nick also reignites his sexual relationship with Melissa partway through the novel after we are told it has been stagnant for some time. When describing Frances and Nick’s sex life, Rooney excels at portraying their relationship as sensual, sexy and intense while at the same time keeping it realistic and vulnerable, as the two often have trouble communicating. This could be due to the ten-year age gap between them, the strain of keeping their affair a secret or because they are both portrayed as quite awkward people. Either way, Conversations with Friends is an interesting examination of how sexual attraction and encounters can make or break a social group.

I would highly recommend Conversations with Friends, and I hope now that the TV series does not disappoint.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
American Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘The Custom of the Country’ (1913) by Edith Wharton

Blog 32

“She had everything she wanted, but she still felt, at times, that there were other things she might want if she knew about them.”

I have already read two of Edith Wharton’s most famed novels, The Age of Innocence (1920) and The House of Mirth (1905), so I had high hopes for The Custom of the Country. Like many of Wharton’s works the subject is marriage, meaning that the subtext is divorce. The Custom of the Country thrusts us into pre-World War One New York, focusing on an aristocratic society struggling to maintain its old word social conventions in the face of modernity and new ideas.

The novel takes place over several years of the early twentieth century and centres on the beautiful but amoral young woman Undine Spragg. Undine and her parents have just moved from the Mid-West town of Apex to New York City, and her goal is to marry a rich man admired in society to kickstart her social career. Though divorce is possible at this time, it is heavily frowned upon by the upper echelons of society and yet, by the end of The Custom of the Country Undine has succeeded in dissolving three marriages in her pursuit of social “triumph” and is starting to become dissatisfied with her fourth. Undine is single-minded in her goal and is indifferent to who she may hurt along the way. Her various exploits take us from New York to France and back, providing an eye-opening look into society, respectability and the female struggle in this era.

Many have drawn comparisons between Undine Spragg and Becky Sharp, the central character of Thackeray’s Vanity Fair (1848). Like Undine, Becky comes from outside society but is determined to marry her way in; she is ruthless, cold and uses men to get to the top, and like Undine, she reluctantly bears a son who she would go on to neglect. However, unlike in Vanity Fair, there are no moralising elements in The Custom of the Country. No normative friends, no narratorial passages condemning the corruption of the anti-heroine – the literary tradition is closer to that of Trollope in The Way We Live Now (1875), which he wrote as a reproach of the financial scandals of the 1870s and how they revealed the levels of dishonesty and corruption present in respectable society.

Undine’s first ‘high society’ marriage is to Ralph Marvell, who comes from an Old New York Society aristocratic family. For Undine, marriage is not about getting a husband; it is instead an entry into the world of money, society and position, which to her are everything. Frankly, who her husband is does not matter too much to Undine, as long as he can fund her lifestyle and is respectable enough to allow her a life of amusement in the right social circle. Undine uses her dazzling beauty to manipulate men into doing what she wants, and the artistic, intelligent Ralph finds out too late that Undine has no interest in intellectual or creative pursuits and that she is mercenary and extravagant. However, Wharton critiques Ralph as much as she does Undine – he sees her as a blank page on which he will create his ideal wife who will fit right in to his fantasy life. As with her second husband, the French aristocrat Raymond de Chelles, once Ralph pierces the veil of her beautiful façade that he himself has imagined based on her striking good looks, he realises in a moment as comic as it is tragic, that there is not much substance to Undine at all. 

Though Undine is not a likeable character, we can draw some comparisons between her and Wharton. When The Custom of the Country was published in 1913 Wharton was newly divorced after a long and unhappy marriage and she had permanently settled in France, where she would remain until her death. Undine is completely enamoured with Paris and it is there she sets her sights on the aristocrat de Chelles, and when we hear of her string of divorces and the fact that she somehow continues to be accepted in society, there is undoubtedly a hint of admiration in the narrative voice. 

It is also interesting to note the cultural differences between the United States and France when Undine marries de Chelles. In some ways they are portrayed as very positive; speaking of America, a character named Charles Bowen comments that society marriages are unhappy because men take little to no interest in what their wives have to say, and do not let them in to the world of business. Instead, they furnish their wives with material things which they in turn pretend constitute a happy marriage to their fellow female friends. In France, women are deemed to have much more intellectual independence, and men respect and are interested in women with opinions, knowledge and academic and cultural interests, suggesting that marriage is more of a partnership. It is this fundamental difference that is ultimately the last straw in the internal disintegration of Undine’s marriage to de Chelles – once he realises there is no intellectuality beneath her ‘beautiful façade’, he becomes indifferent to her. However, this intellectual independence does not allow French women to escape the everyday tedium that comes with marriage – Undine’s expectations of a dazzling life in Paris with Raymond come crashing down when she is forced to remain at the de Chelles’ country estate for ten months of the year, fulfilling her wifely duties and always having to submit to the will and age-old traditions of the family. It is this portion of the book which displays French social customs as even more stifling than those of New York, and it is perhaps the only part in which we feel Undine has some justification for wanting out of the marriage.

Interestingly, Undine’s first and last marriages are to fellow Apex alumni Elmer Moffatt. The first time was a youthful elopement hastily terminated by Undine’s parents before their move to New York, and the second time was when Moffatt had made it big in business in New York and Undine had divorced de Chelles. Moffatt is of the same background as Undine and is abundantly wealthy, so provides her with everything she had ever wanted throughout the entirety of the novel, yet even then her inexhaustible selfishness sees her wanting more still at the close of the novel.

The Custom of the Country is a sharp and fascinating commentary on early twentieth century society, and expertly demonstrates how veils of respectability hide a world of self-centred ambition and a mutual disconnection between men and women. Marriage is portrayed as universally unsatisfying, while the triumph of divorce as an escape is only ephemeral, as it leads only to the next disappointing marriage. Though it may seem too cynical, I would definitely recommend this book because it forces you to realise the cutthroat nature of people trying to make it in the world through a string of scandals.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
American Literature Antiquity World literature

ImoReads… ‘The Song of Achilles’ (2011) by Madeline Miller

Blog Nº 30

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

I have wanted to read The Song of Achilles ever since being blown away by another of Miller’s novels, Circe. Much like how Circe is an imaginative homage to the goddess encountered by Odysseus in Homer’s The OdysseyThe Song of Achilles is an original take on The Iliad, one of the best known stories in the West. The heroes and villains of the Trojan War are brought to life like never before in this story of love, friendship, power and violence.

The Song of Achilles is narrated by Patroclus, an awkward young prince living in the age of Greek heroes. Exiled to the court of King Peleus on the small island of Pthia, he strikes up an unlikely friendship with Peleus’ son, the golden boy Achilles. As the two boys become young men, their bond develops into something deeper, despite the displeasure of Achilles’ mother, the sea goddess Thetis. Over the years, their companionship grows stronger and the two boys are still enjoying their carefree youth when Helen of Sparta gets kidnapped. This turn of events means that Achilles must go to fight a war in distant Troy to fulfil his destiny. Torn between love and fear for Achilles, Patroclus goes with him. 

The relationship between Achilles and Patroclus is highly significant in all stories relating to the Trojan War. In The Iliad Homer describes their relationship as deep and meaningful but never says explicitly that it is a sexual relationship. However, they were represented as lovers in Greek literature during the archaic and classical periods and it has been debated and contested ever since. Strong bonds between men was a custom in Ancient Greece, and this relationship could be intellectual, political and sometimes sexual. Miller has chosen to make their relationship deep and meaningful on many levels including sexual, and as such has created a moving, heartbreaking story.

As Patroclus narrates the novel, we are aware of his awe and admiration for the beautiful Achilles from the moment he arrives in Pthia. After several stolen glances and chance encounters, the pair finally speak, and a tentative friendship begins. In fact, they are good friends for a long time before anything else develops between them, though it’s clear they both desire each other. Miller’s smooth prose conveys their relationship as sexy and intense as well as thoughtful and sensitive, making the reader extremely emotionally invested in their bond, particularly as the danger of war looms.

Miller spent ten years researching and writing this book but has succeeded in crafting a seemingly effortless narrative that takes all the key elements of The Iliad and other stories to create a highly affecting version of Achilles. Where once stood the callous, cold superhero is now a man with depth who can be kind as well as godlike. He is not just a hero but a lover, a friend, a son, a father, a husband and most importantly, a normal human being. This makes the reader all the more emotionally engaged in the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus, because it is clear they are the only people for each other. 

The Song of Achilles is an epic novel, with several years passing before the ten year long Trojan War. I enjoy epic novels because you really become invested in the characters, their development and their world. A key moment in the book is when the pair realise that Achilles must go to Troy because it is decreed in a prophecy with a heartbreaking end. As a reader who has been following their story since boyhood it is natural to be as sad and fearful as Patroclus about this. Though for years they agree to fight the battles but purposefully avoid the terms of the prophecy, in the end it is their love for each other that eventually sees it fulfilled with all the tragedy as befits an Ancient Greek tale.

This book is a vividly atmospheric, enthralling and emotional read which sees the deepest human connections challenged against a backdrop of violence, politics and power. It is a joy to read this depiction of Achilles and Patroclus’ relationship – it is certainly a poignant story about love and friendship. I would highly recommend this book to anyone and everyone!

Happy reading,

Imo x