Tag Archives: mental health

The Blind Assassin – Margaret Atwood – 6/10

“Why stir everything up again after that many years, with all concerned tucked, like tired children, so neatly into their graves?”

margaret-atwood-blind-assassin

Iris Chase, heiress to the Chase family button-making business and married off to rival Richard Griffin, takes the opportunity towards the end of her life to revisit her story. Along the way we are treated to excerpts from the book penned by her prematurely deceased and decidedly odd sister Laura, newspaper clippings telling of the untimely demise of multiple family members, and Iris’ life as an elderly lady back in the town where she grew up.

If you’re interested in my thoughts as I went along, here are links to read-along parts 1, 2, 3 and 4.

The strands of the book varied greatly for me; I loved Iris’ story as an old lady, reminding me of Moon Tiger, one of my favourite book, as well as having strains of The Help. Gentle, smooth, comfort reading. The newspaper articles were intriguing, moved the plot along smartly and added a sense of location and community and times. Iris’ memories of childhood were the best part for me; Very Dead End Gene Pool with overtones of Blackberry Winter, but more positive. She tells this section very slowly, which strings out the reading pleasure and increases the bitter anticipation of the tragedy we already know will happen. In terms of the pulp novel/sci-fi subplot: I never connected with the people or really understood the relationship – there was a neat twist at the end but I could have lived without it; as for the dreadful fantasty writing…

It became more and more readable as it went along; possibly because there is less and less of the sci-fi story and more of the slow-motion train wreck of Iris Chase’s life. Interspersing it with her days as a pensioner is sort of reassuring because we know that she’s going to get through all the mildly unpleasant parts of her life intact, and we already know that Laura will drive off the bridge so now we’re sort of just waiting for it to happen.

Atwood writes fluently and elegantly but without much showiness; I only noted a few quotes:

“On the main street of Port Ticonderoga there were five churches and four banks, all made of stone, all chunky. Sometimes you had to read the names on them to tell the difference, although the banks lacked steeples.”

“Alone and therefore neglected, neglected and therefore unsuccessful. As if I’d been stood up, jilted; as if I had a broken heart. A group of English people in cream-coloured linen stared at me. It wasn’t a hostile stare; it was bland, remote, faintly curious. No one can stare like the English. I felt rumpled and grubby, and of minor interest.”

and my favourite, which tops this review.

It’s a sad novel; an inevitability of tragedy hangs over the protagonist. I did enjoy the description of life in between-war Canada, the life Iris had before and after marrying new money (it reminds me of something I’ve read recently, a woman who marries for money rather than love… ah – Wallis Simpson).

It turns very interesting from a semi-unreliable narrator point of view;  Iris is quite happily telling us all her marital woes while she fails to notice anything about Laura at all, and fails to protect her from the Richard and Winifred double act. Old Iris’ morbid (she even calls it lugubrious) discussion of her own death interspersed with her observations on her very unhappy marriage adds even more darkness to the domesticity. The marriage is quite oddly unhappy, actually – the dynamic of the traditional over-bearing mother-in-law who won’t let go of her son is occupied by Winifred (“Freddie” – really?) the older sister, which struck me as very strange. Why would Richard choose a wife so far his junior if he enjoys the company of his older sister as a peer? Or is it just poor coincidence that the age gap was so large and really it’s just the Chase business that Richard wanted?

I was so pleased when the sci-fi stopped. I know it was intentionally awful, but still.

The twist in the The Blind Assassin affair reduced Laura as a character for me; she became a little girl once more. The slightly autistic, reserved but also impetuous trouble-maker of the family; no longer a sophisticated woman of intrigue. Iris grew in my eyes to become much stronger, with backbone (which is an odd reaction for me. I abhor infidelity in novels).

The ending felt very rushed. Suddenly Laura was dead, and Richard was dead, and Iris is clearly on the way out herself; either Atwood ran out of time (highly unlikely) or simply decided she was done with the part of the story she wanted to tell.

Thoughts? Thoughts on the book as a whole? on the read-along experience if you joined in? (as a straight-through sort of reader, read-alongs are a very different animal for me).

Additional information:

The Other Side of You – Salley Vickers – 7/10

“After so devastating a disappointment it would make sense to turn to a Neil”

I read one of Vickers’ previous novels in my pre-blogging days, Miss Garnet’s Angel, and remember that it was mostly about a painting of Tobit or Tobias or Toblerone or some such personage. I did remember enjoying it though. And thus I seemed to be stepping into very familiar territory with The Other Side of You, which has a simple enough narrative structure – a few days in the life of psychologist and analyst Davey McBride, in which he treats some patients and interacts with colleagues and tries to figure out why his wife is being a bit strange.

One patient proves particularly challenging, a suicide outside the normal mood of desperation and cries for help; rather a woman who had no wish to continue living. Our protagonist feels a deep affinity with Mrs Cruikshank, but she takes a frustratingly long time to open up to him. What she does yield is a passion for Caravaggio, one shared by the doctor’s mentor. And this is where Vickers shines – her narrative is a pleasant enough construct for an emotional response to a series of Caravaggio’s artworks; Dr McBride returns to the National Gallery at one point and falls in love with Caravaggio’s The Last Supper.

The novel is religious without being proselytising – Vickers engrosses us in the culture of faith, not the practice. McBride makes numerous references to the men on the road to Emmaus, a story I’ve never understood well (what is its point? That Jesus chose to reveal Himself resurrected away from the crowd? That He wanted to test their loyalty first?) and delves into the tragedy of the men who have just lost their friend and leader, rather than the joy of reunion.

*minor spoiler alert* I’m so bored with infidelity. It seems to be in every book. It’s always the slightly controversial story on the side. That’s all I’m going to say here – Vickers takes the adultery storyline quite a lot further than most, with it being the focus of both Elizabeth and Olivia’s stories. Is there no other source of drama in adult interaction? *end spoilers*

Clever writing, fascinating characters and a bridge into the art world. I want to take the book with me back to all those Roman churches The Book Accumulator dragged me around when I was 14.

Additional information:
Copy borrowed from Tooting library who are now going to fine me heavily for its late return.
Publisher: Harper Perennial, 262 pages (paperback).
Pre-order The Other Side of You from Amazon*
* this is an affiliate link – I will be paid a small percentage of your purchase price if you use this link, which goes towards give-aways and site hosting
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