Harriet Devine's Blog

Nutshell by Ian McEwan

I discovered Ian McEwan a few years ago and had a very enjoyable stretch of reading everything he'd written up to that point. Some of his novels I loved, some I liked less, but it left me with enough respect and curiosity to have gone on picking up his latest. So here we have Nutshell, which I actually listened to on Audible, well read by Rory Kenner.

I knew more or less nothing about this novel when I started it, though I'd gathered the salient point that it was narrated by an eight-month foetus in the womb. Here's how it begins:

So here I am upside down in a woman. Arms patiently crossed, waiting, waiting and wondering who I’m in, what I’m in for. My eyes close nostalgically when I remember how I once drifted in my translucent body bag, floated dreamily in the bubble of my thoughts through my private ocean in slow-motion somersaults. . . . I’m immersed in abstractions, and only the proliferating relations between them create the illusion of a known world. When I hear ‘blue,’ which I’ve never seen, I imagine some kind of mental event that’s fairly close to ‘green’ — which I’ve never seen. . . . I count myself an innocent, but it seems I’m party to a plot. My mother, bless her unceasing, loudly squelching heart, seems to be involved.

Would I be able to swallow this? Obviously it has to be taken with a very large pinch of salt. The baby is infuriatingly opinionated on everything from good wine to current affairs, and we are supposed to believe that this is because his mother Trudy is addicted to Radio Four and podcasts. Or not. The whole thing really is an enormous bit of fun, and if you take it any other way you'll be irritated or disappointed. 

As for the plot - well, it's a crime story of sorts. An adulterous couple plan to kill the woman's husband and sell his immensely valuable London house, in which they are living. The baby, obviously, is party to all this, but infuriatingly unable to take any action. Forced to work out what's going on without any visual clues, it takes him a while to realise that his mother's lover is his uncle, his father's brother. Soon after his penny dropped, mine did too. Uncle Claude, mother Trudy, poison, son plots revenge? Yes of course, it's Hamlet. Once I got that, my enjoyment increased enormously. How closely would the novel stick to the original? What are the obvious links to the play? 

Some of these are more obvious (and more convincing) than others. The poison was pretty obvious, though it took the form of a smoothie laced with antifreeze rather then a few drops in the ear. It was a little difficult to believe in the existence of a Danish takeaway offering 'baked meats' along with the open sandwiches and pickled herring, but I liked the baby's soliloquies, one of which seemed very close to Hamlet's 'What a piece of work is man'. Clever and funny, too, is the moment when he considers suicide and tries to hang himself with his own umbilical cord. We know from the play that 'Something is rotten in the state of Denmark' - here, the house itself enacts this, its Georgian splendour marred by the terrible mess of spilled food and unwashed dishes which the couple completely ignore, being too busy having frantic (and, for the baby, very uncomfortable) sex or drinking gallons of wine and gin and tonics. 

No doubt there's more. But let's suppose you don't know anything about Hamlet - will this be a dead loss? Definitely not. Clearly the links and allusions add some fun to the mix, but the story is strong enough to stand on its own. The psychology of the couple is well observed, their powerful sexual obsession and Claude's greed for his brother's valuable possession driving them on and blinding them to the implications of what they are planning to do. But after the deed comes the turning point, when the true nature of their relationship becomes clear. Claude is a brilliant creation, a man 'clever and dark and calculating' but also 'dull to the point of brilliance, vapid beyond invention . . . a man who whistles continually, not songs but TV jingles, ringtones . . . whose repeated remarks are a witless, thriftless dribble'.  As for Trudy, her state of advanced pregnancy and her continual drinking put her into a frequently half-dazed state of mind, and she follows Claude down the dark lanes of his plotting, seemingly unquestioningly -- though there's a telling moment towards the end when we discover she has hidden his passport.

This is quite a short novel -- less than 200 pages or just over four hours of listening -- but it packs a tremendous amount into its concise length. Witty and thought-provoking, it ended up giving me a good deal of pleasure - why not see what you think?

Related articles

 

Woman Reading

This is a chalk drawing by the great French post-impressionist painter Georges Seurat (1859-91). You can see the technique he used, known as pointillism,  here. But his other great innovation, colour theory, is not in evidence - amazing that he's managed to produce such a lovely effect in monochrome.

Sophie Hannah and Harry Bingham on Audible

The other day I was enthusing about Harry Bingham's latest Fiona Griffiths novel, The Dead House, and having some spare Audible credits I thought I'd go back to the start of the series and hope to find out a bit more about the unusual, likeable, strange woman who is the central character. It was clear from The Dead House that Fiona was drawn to dead people and felt very safe and comfortable in their presence, but quite why this should have been was a mystery. Things become clearer in Talking to the Dead, in which Fiona, still a relatively new recruit to the police, is helping to investigate the murder of a prostitute and her six year old daughter. A credit card found at the house indicates that a very unpleasant gang of wealthy traffickers is involved, and the case takes Fiona on a very challenging expedition from her hometown Cardiff to a seemingly deserted lighthouse on the far west coast of Wales where... Well, you'll have to read it to find out. But Fiona's back story is spelled out here, and the mystery of her attraction to the dead is somewhat cleared up by the explanation of the unusual, but real, psychological syndrome from which she suffered in her late teens. 

On the strength of the two I've read so far, I highly recommend this excellent series. It's quite remarkable that such a fascinating and convincing female character should be the creation of a male author. I shall definitely be catching up with the rest of the series. This one was extremely well read by Siriol Jenkins.

 

I've also been listening to Sophie Hannah's second Poirot novel, Closed Casket. I have to admit that I wasn't exactly bowled over by her first attempt, The Monogram Murders, but I enjoyed this one much more. Read by Julian Rhind-Tutt, it passed some enjoyable hours. Set in Ireland, it's a proper country house mystery, so, as you'd expect, there's a limited cast of suspects and numerous possible motives.

The house is question is a mansion in Clonakilty, County Cork, belonging to the wealthy Lady Athelinda Playford, a widow who writes successful detective novels. Also living there are her son, Viscount Harry Playford, his neurotic wife Dorothy, and his older sister Claudia, whose fiancé, pathologist Randall Kimpton, is a long-term visitor. Then there's Lady Playford's secretary, Joseph Scotcher, a delicate invalid dying from Bright's Disease, and his devoted nurse Sophie Bourlay. Hercule Poirot and his friend, Scotland Yard detective Edward Catchpool, have also been invited though they are puzzled as to why they've been included in the house party and assume that Lady P is expecting trouble. And trouble soon rears its head. At dinner on the first night, Lady P announces that she has changed her will, disinheriting her children and leaving her huge estate to Joseph Scotcher. Outrage ensues, and great confusion - why leave it all to someone who has only a few weeks to live? Only hours later, Scotcher is discovered to have been murdered, though the method proves to be not at all what it seems. 

Sophie Hannah's non-Poirot crime novels are notable for their habit of setting up an apparently inexplicable situation at the start and then finally revealing the explanation at the end. They are always tremendous fun, but the denouement is invariably almost impossible to swallow. This one is no different in that respect, but no less enjoyable for that. Although inspired by Christie, the novel would never be mistaken for one of Dame Agatha's own, and indeed Poirot has little to do in the early part of the story, though he comes into his own in a long and typical revelation section at the end. I had a lot of fun with this despite its highly improbable ending. 

Many thanks again to Audible for enabling me to have so many hours of listening pleasure. 

 

 

 

 

Lady Susan Plays the Game by Janet Todd

A couple of months ago I read and enjoyed Janet Todd's first venture into fictional writing, A Man of Genius - I reviewed it for Shiny New Books and you can read my review of it here. Now, somehow or other, Prof. Todd has managed to publish a second novel - presumably one that was already in existence. This one, with it's lovely cover, is a reimagining of Jane Austen's early novel Lady Susan, which was probably written in the mid-1790s but not published till the end of the 19th century. Most real Austen lovers will probably have read it, though it's often treated as something of a curiosity. It's very short, more of a novella really, and it's written in the form of letters, an epistolary novel to give it its correct name, and it's interesting because it shows a side of Austen we don't usually see. Why? Because Lady Susan has very little to recommend her apart from her looks, superficial charm, and ability to manipulate people in order to get her own way. She might, perhaps, appear as a minor character in one of the more mature novels, but it's interesting to encounter her here as the central character, mistreating her daughter, sleeping with her best friend's husband, flirting with her daughter's intended fiancé, and sponging off those who are richer and better settled than herself. I re-read it after I'd read Janet Todd's version, and enjoyed it a lot, though I wouldn't put it in a class with the later novels.

Austen's novella was obviously not intended for publication, and it ends rather abruptly. It also lacks, owing to its form, the ability to see what other characters are thinking and doing. I suppose that may have been the reason for this new adaptation, which sticks rigidly to Austen's original in terms of the basic plot, but adds to and embellishes it considerably. Most notably we get to see into the mind and heart of Lady Susan's unfortunate daughter Frederika, a shy, insecure teenager who is desperately missing her recently dead father. She presumably took after him, as he sounds as if he was a good man, and she is truly the polar opposite of her mother, who despises her for her quiet, gentle nature. We see her trailing around the various grand houses where her mother has managed to take up residence, having a miserable time at a boarding school in London, being more or less assaulted by the unpleasant young man her mother wants her to marry, falling desperately in love with a man who Lady Susan has got her claws into. As for Lady S herself, her extra-marital exploits are spelled out in ways that Austen would quite possibly have never even heard of and certainly would not have written about.

This is far from the first spin-off from Lady Susan, and no doubt won't be the last. In fact a film has recently come out, rather confusingly called Love and Friendship (the title of one of Austen's other youthful efforts) starring Kate Beckinsale as the eponymous heroine. You can read something about that one here. Perhaps lovers of the film will want to pursue Lady Susan further, and this novel will give them a chance to do so. But I'd strongly recommend taking a look at the original - I got it on Kindle for free, and read it in about an hour. 

Woman Reading a Letter

This is The Love Letter by the French artist Émile Lévy (1826-1890). He seems to have been best known for his grand historical works but this one is more up our street on here. I love the way she is so absorbed, and possibly a little secretive?

Brat Farrar by Josephine Tey

 

I'm just back from a wonderful family holiday in Sicily. While I was there I re-read one of my favourite Josephine Tey novels - possibly in fact my top favourite of her small but totally brilliant output.

This is the story of a young man, the eponymous Brat Farrar, who returns to England after eight years spent in the United States. Brat is an orphan - a foundling, in fact - and has been travelling restlessly, mostly working in stables as a farrier and rider. He's unsuccessfully job-seeking in London one day when he runs into a man who greets him as Simon before apologising profusely ' 'I thought you were a friend of mine'. It turns out that Brat is extraordinarily like Simon Ashby, a young man from a middle-class family living in the countryside and helping his aunt to run a stables and riding school. Alec Loding, whose family live nearby, has known the Ashbys from childhood, and, being rather a nasty piece of work, he's formed a plan which he puts to Brat. Brat will turn up at the Ashby's, claiming to be Patrick Ashby, Simon's twin, who seemingly committed suicide some eight years earlier, though the body has never been found. If he gets away with it, this will be of great financial benefit to Brat who, as Patrick was the older twin, will inherit a large fortune on his supposed 21st birthday - money that, of course, Simon is expecting to receive very soon. Once Brat comes into his money, he will provide a useful extra income to Alec in return for the period of intensive coaching the two of them now undertake.

By the end of three weeks, Brat is armed with enough knowledge of the Ashby family and their home surroundings to, hopefully, convince them that he really is Patrick. He begins with the family solicitor, who is completely won over, and at last turns up at the house. The family, though forewarned, is quite cautious, but eventually they are all won over -- all, that is, apart from Simon, who is angry and antagonistic. He also seems worryingly sure that this cannot be Patrick. Brat becomes increasingly suspicious - does Simon have something to hide?

I you haven't read this novel, you will be forming a rather negative picture of Brat by now. But Tey's great skill is in making him a wholly sympathetic character. Yes, he does undertake the impersonation, but he's been drawn to the place by the thought of being able to work with the horses, something that matters more to him than anything else in life. But when he meets and is so willingly accepted by the family, he starts to feel increasingly guilty about the deception, and in the end only stays on because of his increasing suspicions of Simon, who proves to be a very unsavoury and immoral character and who makes several attempts on Brat's life.

This is a true mystery story and one which, although I'd read it at least once before, completely grabbed me and gave me many happy hours of reading beside the pool! If you haven't read it, I strongly recommend that you do so.