Monday, 10 May 2010

Those damned novelists are being clever for the sake of it

Hello Blog. I'm sorry I was away for so long. I'm only using you now as a procrastinating tool. I hope you don't mind.

I have heard bad things about 'Tess of the d'Urbervilles' by Thomas Hardy. One such quote is "That's an awful book", coming from my absurdly knowledgeable librarian as I took it out. I just finished the first 'phase' this morning and so far I don't really see what they're complaining about. So far my only qualm is that the narrative is a bit jumpy and hard to follow: lots of really important things seem to happen in the time between chapters. Another irksome thing is that damned 19th century prudishness. It is really very difficult to discern when anything of a sexual nature is happening in the book, despite it dealing centrally with the theme of sexuality! Humbug.

Since my last post I also finished 'The Sea, The Sea' by Iris Murdoch. It took me so very long to read.

'The Sea, The Sea' is very much a novel of the brain. First and foremost, it is written in the first person - diary entries; you can never trust diaries - you learn about the protagonist by reading between the lines, and learn nothing about other characters because they're coloured by the protagonist! Standard first-person isn't quite so bad, even when it's heavy on the interior monologue - you can understand other characters by dialogue, movement. In a diary, however, the only things you can pick up on are the central character, and themes.

We'll start with character. That's a bit easier. 'The Sea, The Sea' begins with ninety pages of uninterrupted musings. That might sound awful, but it really was fascinating. Charles Arrowby, the protagonist, is a playwright who retires to the sea for peace and solitude. For a while he revels, playing the part of the hermit with obvious grandeur. His writing is lavish and descriptive, incredibly romantic. However, in complete contrast with his writing, his actions show discontent - hallucinations, injuries etc. It seemed to me that he was searching for a kind of solitude he was never going to find. Furthermore, he was trying to deceive himself with romantic imagery and endless philosophy.

As the novel progresses so too does Arrowby's view of the sea. Things become chaotic, people come to visit him, and the sea once again becomes an effigy of peace. I thought it was a rather cyclical novel, but that would give away a lot of the plot.

Oh! It's important to not that Arrowby is a horrible, horrible person and if you can't get past that you won't enjoy the book.

This review is horrible. It has no structure.

THEMES. Actually, I should go do some proper work. Themes will come later.


3 comments:

Name said...

Why do proper work when you can write book reviews that are very interesting, even if they do lack structure?

:]

The way you described those "ninety pages of uninterrupted musings" from the The Sea, The Sea put me in mind of Marcel Proust's Swann's Way (which I have been reading on and off for a good month now. Indeed). Specifically, how the story seems more a journey through the mind, the memory, and the intellect than through any actual plot. If that makes any sense or is at all applicable to The Sea. Swann's Way, in a word, is full of "interrupted musings" as well - the narrator spends several pages describing church steeples, for instance. But I think I would prefer the musings of Charles Arrowby; Proust's narrator is not in any way a horrible person (and is perhaps, as a consequence, not as interesting to read about).

You put it very aptly when you described Hardy's vague ambiguities as "damned 19th century prudishness". Very aptly, xD

Matthew said...

Thank, you Selah! Normally I would agree with you about fake work vs. proper work, but for the first time in my life the exams that I'm sitting matter! I had my first one on Friday: English Literature ie. three essays in 150 minutes.

That's exactly what 'The Sea, The Sea' is like, to begin with. It really was very interesting, though.

I have finished 'Tess of the d'Urbervilles'! The infamous rape/seduction seemed to be the greatest example of 'damned 19th century prudishness', however xD.

Name said...

I wish you all the best with your exams! Have you finished, or do you still have some to complete?