Losing Nelson

Rating:
Summary: Historical Obsession
Review: "Losing Nelson" is a strange tale of obsession and the perils of historical intepretation. Charles Cleasby is devoted to his studies of Lord Nelson, completely immersing his life in that of his dead hero. But there's a problem, namely the events in Naples in 1799 which do not accord with the image of Nelson as the great British hero. Cleasby's biography of Nelson has ground to a halt because of this issue.

Cleasby employs an amanuensis, "Miss Lily", to help him out but she only makes matters worse as her view of Nelson is less sympathetic (and more realistic?) that Cleasby's. Can Cleasby resolve the problem or will it destroy his image of Nelson and thereby undermine the frail supports holding up his life?

Unsworth enters the peculiarly male world of total obsession with one subject. As with so many men, Cleasby submerges himself in an obsession with Nelson in order to avoid the difficulties of social interaction with other people. His vulnerability is not overcome, rather it is masked by what he thinks is his expertise and confidence in all things Nelsonian.

It seemed to me that such monomania is seldom encountered in women, but disturbingly common in men, where obsession can be total - trainspotting, sport, cars, writing on-line reviews and so on. Miss Lily has a much more humane, more rounded view of Nelson precisely because she is coping with the emotional ups-and-downs of life rather than hiding from them.

Added to this, Unsworth examines the often myopic nationalistic view of history. Cleasby never asks himself whether or not the British view of Nelson is truly a balanced one, never challenging the reasons why history is sometimes written like it is, as much for the needs of the present as for getting an accurate view of the past. Cleasby clings on to the image of Nelson rather than the reality of Nelson the human being because he needs to.

I thought that Unsworth's handling of these themes was excellent. Watch out for an appearance by the author himself as a character in the novel!

G Rodgers

Rating:
Summary: A Haunting Portrait
Review: "Loosing Nelson" is a masterful work of contrast and parallelism. Emotionally stunted, Charles sacrifices his own personality for that of his hero, Horatio Nelson. Viewing his own life as the "dark side" of Nelson's, Charles tries to match his every move to the life of the admiral, not in the sense of accomplishing great tasks, but by taking his wounds. A highly intellegent man, with little self-knowledge, Charles is one of the most vivid portraits to emerge in recent fiction. His gradual emotional evolution costs him dearly, for by tearing down Nelson he tears down himself.

The novel is dark, and the ending does feel somewhat forced, but this is certainly a work of fiction that makes you think. It touches on issues that surround our lives - the worth of celebrity and fame, our ties with history, and what we can really know of the past. In a deceptively miniature portrait of a single man, Unsworth takes on these weighty topics and succeeds entirely.

Rating:
Summary: Historical Obsession
Review: "Losing Nelson" is a strange tale of obsession and the perils of historical intepretation. Charles Cleasby is devoted to his studies of Lord Nelson, completely immersing his life in that of his dead hero. But there's a problem, namely the events in Naples in 1799 which do not accord with the image of Nelson as the great British hero. Cleasby's biography of Nelson has ground to a halt because of this issue.

Cleasby employs an amanuensis, "Miss Lily", to help him out but she only makes matters worse as her view of Nelson is less sympathetic (and more realistic?) that Cleasby's. Can Cleasby resolve the problem or will it destroy his image of Nelson and thereby undermine the frail supports holding up his life?

Unsworth enters the peculiarly male world of total obsession with one subject. As with so many men, Cleasby submerges himself in an obsession with Nelson in order to avoid the difficulties of social interaction with other people. His vulnerability is not overcome, rather it is masked by what he thinks is his expertise and confidence in all things Nelsonian.

It seemed to me that such monomania is seldom encountered in women, but disturbingly common in men, where obsession can be total - trainspotting, sport, cars, writing on-line reviews and so on. Miss Lily has a much more humane, more rounded view of Nelson precisely because she is coping with the emotional ups-and-downs of life rather than hiding from them.

Added to this, Unsworth examines the often myopic nationalistic view of history. Cleasby never asks himself whether or not the British view of Nelson is truly a balanced one, never challenging the reasons why history is sometimes written like it is, as much for the needs of the present as for getting an accurate view of the past. Cleasby clings on to the image of Nelson rather than the reality of Nelson the human being because he needs to.

I thought that Unsworth's handling of these themes was excellent. Watch out for an appearance by the author himself as a character in the novel!

G Rodgers

Rating:
Summary: Heroes are not real people...
Review: ... and thinking of them as such is where the problem lies. For the central character in this novel - Charles Cleasby - his hero is Horatio Nelson. A man who is honored with plaques in many places around the world (London, Port Royal in Jamaica, and the Far East) that state:

"In This Place Dwelt Horatio Nelson;
You Who Tread In His Footsteps Remember His Glory"

Think about our image of Horatio Nelson for a minute. For many of us he's definitely "larger than life" - Bronze or Marble statues that tower over us. He's a "national treasure" as prices for any personal artifact or painting of him will attest, and he's often used as an "icon" for courage or patriotism. This seems to confirm that heroes are indeed not real people. While we are able to easily sort through all this, Cleasby has a much harder time maintaining perspective. In Cleasby's world Nelson is no mere Admiral, he's Charles' lifes obsession. The problem for Charles is compounded because we see here that he's also reclusive, socially-inept, eccentric, and more than slightly disturbed. He can't get a proper perspective and more than simply LOSING NELSON, Charles' story is one of him slowly but surely losing his grip on reality.

The themes of hero worship and obsession, and the counterbalancing need for objectivity and realism are ancient philosophical ideas. They've long been explored in literature dating back to the Greek Mythologies, and truth be told, there's better writing on it elsewhere. The strength of this novel is in character development. Charles - as disturbed as he is, and as horrific as the denouement is - nevertheless comes across as somebody we can sympathize with. He seems strangely familiar and it is this that makes his story so haunting and its telling such a compelling read. If you enjoy nautical or military themes Nelson's exploits and battles are interwoven throughout and provide the historical background.

Rating:
Summary: A very dull book about a disturbed main character
Review: A deranged principal character tries to recreate his life as a reincarnation of Admiral Lord Nelson.Full of wonderful historical detail and perhaps worth reading for that. But the principal character's derangement overtakes him when he finally discovers some of Nelson's seamier side. Very sad to feel his return to his deranged state.

Rating:
Summary: Haunting, Harrowing Hero-Razing
Review: As has widely been observed, Barry Unsworth's intelligent novel succeeds at many levels. Let us specify a few: it is, first of all, a disturbing tale of obsession - Charles Cleasby's maniacal pursuit of evidence to exonerate Admiral Horatio Nelson of any malfeasance in what history has recorded as Nelson's distinctly unheroic behavior in Naples in 1798.

Unsworth has also written a subversive work of biographical art - the author notes in interviews that Losing Nelson in fact began its life as a commissioned biography of the supreme British hero. With vigorous economy Unsworth covers the main biographical bases and provides the reader, almost miraculously, with both sides of the interpretation with which Cleasby and all Nelsonographers must grapple. (Indeed, more plentiful source citations would have been helpful, although Unsworth does a nice job of working some of his documentation into the narrative - several times causing me to smile and shake my head in admiration at his cleverness in doing so.)

The book also works as a complexly interwoven meditation on the related themes of fame, heroism, nobility, patriotism, and virtuousness - again, from both sides, but adding another familiar dimension to Unsworth's "angel-of-light" and "angel-of-darkness" considerations, recalling the two sides of Henry V - the unabashedly jingoistic view of Prince Hal (Nelson) versus the play's pragmatic Falstaffian overtones that probe unsettlingly into "what IS honor?" This is a most timely aspect of the book: each era creates its own heroes - think of what we lionize as "heroic" and those whom we call "hero" - and Unsworth is as careful in presenting the building blocks of Nelson's fame as he is unsparing in dissecting the dynamic (for it IS a process) of heroism and its perpetuation.

Losing Nelson is also a modernist (not postmodern) psychological narrative of considerable virtuosity. Unsworth handles his twin-track materials with breathtaking seamlessness, sometimes moving incrementally through segues from Cleasby to Nelson (almost like the walking Henry Hull changing into the Werewolf of London as he passes behind successive pillars) and sometimes back and forth inside Cleasby-Nelson. One finishes some passages of this book simply to sit back in startled wonder: "how did he manage THAT?" Unsworth is a flawless craftsman, a master of pacing (the true narrative art) who knows when to divulge a tidbit of information and when to withhold. And he never cheats the reader.

Sprinkled throughout the novel are marvelous, beautifully realized characters. We have the astonishing Cleasby himself - what a creation! Brilliant and method-to-his-madness "on to something," edgy, obsessive-compulsive, scarred by a domineering father, of bizarrely diffuse sexuality. There are the cleverly written debunkers, including Miss Lily the Avon Services "Kelly Girl" temp who transcribes Cleasby's handwritten Nelson study, and her sparely but devastatingly drawn son, as well as the expatriate whom Cleasby hopes holds the key to the Naples episode, and the assorted oddballs, cranks, and losers who hang out at the London Nelson Society.

Much has been made of the Unsworth's "surprise" ending. I believe more than a few readers will anticipate some variation of the ending - I did, through no special perspicacity but simply as a hand-wringing reader, wholly enjoying his immersion in the Nelson-Cleasby universe and, riffling through as many unsatisfactory ways the book might end as I could imagine, hitting upon the one - one I had feared - playing it out, and thus feeling slightly let down at the end. As the dust jacket observes, "Something has to give way, and give it does - in the most astonishing and entertaining of ways." Having lived so intimately with Charles Cleasby, I wanted something better for him, and certainly something less - well, I'll say it, and I don't think it's a spoiler - hackneyed. For me, an unsatisfying conclusion to an otherwise brilliant novel, my first of what will be many journeys with Barry Unsworth.

Rating:
Summary: Cannon Flashes of Brilliance
Review: Barry Unsworth is an exceptionally talented novelist and this work succeeds on many levels. He has an unswerving eye for detail, provides rich characterization, masterful manipulation of plot, and supplies plenty of meat and marrow in terms of levels of meaning. He also is adept at varying the pace of his narrative, shifting his delivery from the rather langorous story-line involving the troubled main character, Charles Cleasby, to the fast-paced passages covering Admiral Nelson's siege of Naples.

The only drawback is that the parallel plot device has become something of a cliche in recent fiction and cinema. Two ready examples are Michael Cunningham's and Charles Sturridge's adaptation of Dana Sobel's . When one end of the scale outweighs the other, things get out of balance. The feat requires careful measurements. In Unsworth's case, the Nelson chapters are just a great deal more interesting than those devoted to the intentionally mundane machinations of the mentally unstable Cleasby and his female ameneunsis, Miss Lilly. It's difficult for a reader to care about this particularly unsympathetic main character. There is rather a whiney quality to his musings that makes him unpleasant to be around. I grant that this is part of Unsworth's intent. NO one enjoys being in the company of neurotics for any length of time, but still. That Cleasby comes to terms with his past later in the novel is not enough to counteract the fact that he is an anal compulsive bore, when it comes right down to it.

This book, despite these shortcomings, is well worth a read, as there's no disputing that Unsworth is a capable novelist with a true sense of style. Though the Cleasby plot-line sags, Lord Nelson comes to the rescue, though his visage is marred by a few warts we might have overlooked in previous portraits. I recommend this book and look forward very much to reading the same author's Booker Prize Winning 1992 novel of the slave trade, .

BEK

Rating:
Summary: EchoDooLalia
Review: Before I can explain to you why Barry Unsworth's Losing Nelson is such a peculiar book, I have to prepare you by giving you a little clue as to what to expect herein.

First off, our narrator, Charles Cleasby, is something of a fanatic when it comes to the life and exploits of one Lord Horatio Nelson. He recreates battles in miniature upon his late father's now converted billiard table, as and when they took place. He buys virtually any Nelson memorabilia he can get his hands on and displays it (if display can be said to be the right word) in a locked cabinet in his basement, the door of which remains always locked. Charles is also in the process of writing a book about the great man, in which he hopes to clear up the black spot that has marked Nelson's otherwise blemish-free historical reputation: a period of roughly one year between 1798 and 1799 which Nelson spent in Naples.

It goes like this: Nelson entered Naples as the conquering hero (having recently fought and won a battle on the Nile), met and began to conduct an affair with Emma Hamilton (with the apparent blessing of her husband, the ageing Lord Hamilton) and stuck his oar into the relationship that then existed between Naples and France to the degree that France and Naples began to wage both internecine and open warfare with each other. There was a certain amount of toing and froing (first Naples appeared to have the upper hand and then France) before we reach the crux of the blemish: there is a siege, with Jacobin rebels (fighting on the side of the French) holed up in a castle resisting the forces for good (in this case, Nelson, Naples et al). The Jacobin rebels refuse to emerge, believing they will be torn to shreds by the King's guards. Nelson appears to promise them free passage, only for their original belief (the tearing to shreds) to hold true. Did Nelson know? Did Nelson betray them? What exactly happened?

Nobody really knows. It all comes down to interpretation, whether you regard Nelson as a hero (as Charles Cleasby indefatigably does) or a cold fraud (as Miss Lily, the secretarial help Charles employs to help him with his book, does).

Parallel to Nelson's story, of course, is that of his "dark twin", or "land shadow", Charles. What story there is. Because Charles does not do very much. He dwells on Nelson a lot, dwells on his own and others' views of Nelson. He inhabits a fairly rigid routine, rarely straying beyond the confines of his house (rarely thinking about eating, rarely cleaning, rarely thinking about the world at large, all the time avoiding avoiding avoiding modern reality, choosing instead to inhabit this peculiar space pressed flat between the pages of so many history books).

Charles is a kind of eccentric extremist, choosing to annotate the sections of his book that he has already written rather than engage with those problems that stop him proceeding (his is life as writer's block). He is a wrong man, a broken man, a being totally focussed on a single icon to the exception and detriment of everything else. Here is a man that fills notebooks with line upon line of tiny print. Here is R.Crumb's brother.

And yet what is particularly curious about all of this is that - in choosing to tell us about the life of Charles Cleasby - Barry Unsworth behaves in much the same way that Charles Cleasby does. Charles focusses on (and finds himself beaten by) a short period of Nelson's life. We examine that short period in rather intense detail. Similarly, Barry Unsworth focusses on a short period in the life of Charles Cleasby. If Charles Cleasby is a kind of watermark, a kind of nowhere man, then Losing Nelson is the watermark of a watermark, the palimpsest of a palimpsest, a shadow's echo, echolalia.

All of which leaves you feeling - well, a bit funny. To read this book to the end requires you to adopt that shadowy mantle, to exist concommitant with shadows and airy nothings (to the degree that - upon arriving at Losing Nelson's sudden violent conclusion - you just don't feel it: it's history, but history that has not been brought satisfactorily to life.)

Losing Nelson is an odd, odd fish. Yes, it is erudite and well-written but - at the same time - there is a peculiar lack of substance here, a feeling that you can't get to grips with the book however hard you try.

Rating:
Summary: EchoDooLalia
Review: Before I can explain to you why Barry Unsworth's Losing Nelson is such a peculiar book, I have to prepare you by giving you a little clue as to what to expect herein.

First off, our narrator, Charles Cleasby, is something of a fanatic when it comes to the life and exploits of one Lord Horatio Nelson. He recreates battles in miniature upon his late father's now converted billiard table, as and when they took place. He buys virtually any Nelson memorabilia he can get his hands on and displays it (if display can be said to be the right word) in a locked cabinet in his basement, the door of which remains always locked. Charles is also in the process of writing a book about the great man, in which he hopes to clear up the black spot that has marked Nelson's otherwise blemish-free historical reputation: a period of roughly one year between 1798 and 1799 which Nelson spent in Naples.

It goes like this: Nelson entered Naples as the conquering hero (having recently fought and won a battle on the Nile), met and began to conduct an affair with Emma Hamilton (with the apparent blessing of her husband, the ageing Lord Hamilton) and stuck his oar into the relationship that then existed between Naples and France to the degree that France and Naples began to wage both internecine and open warfare with each other. There was a certain amount of toing and froing (first Naples appeared to have the upper hand and then France) before we reach the crux of the blemish: there is a siege, with Jacobin rebels (fighting on the side of the French) holed up in a castle resisting the forces for good (in this case, Nelson, Naples et al). The Jacobin rebels refuse to emerge, believing they will be torn to shreds by the King's guards. Nelson appears to promise them free passage, only for their original belief (the tearing to shreds) to hold true. Did Nelson know? Did Nelson betray them? What exactly happened?

Nobody really knows. It all comes down to interpretation, whether you regard Nelson as a hero (as Charles Cleasby indefatigably does) or a cold fraud (as Miss Lily, the secretarial help Charles employs to help him with his book, does).

Parallel to Nelson's story, of course, is that of his "dark twin", or "land shadow", Charles. What story there is. Because Charles does not do very much. He dwells on Nelson a lot, dwells on his own and others' views of Nelson. He inhabits a fairly rigid routine, rarely straying beyond the confines of his house (rarely thinking about eating, rarely cleaning, rarely thinking about the world at large, all the time avoiding avoiding avoiding modern reality, choosing instead to inhabit this peculiar space pressed flat between the pages of so many history books).

Charles is a kind of eccentric extremist, choosing to annotate the sections of his book that he has already written rather than engage with those problems that stop him proceeding (his is life as writer's block). He is a wrong man, a broken man, a being totally focussed on a single icon to the exception and detriment of everything else. Here is a man that fills notebooks with line upon line of tiny print. Here is R.Crumb's brother.

And yet what is particularly curious about all of this is that - in choosing to tell us about the life of Charles Cleasby - Barry Unsworth behaves in much the same way that Charles Cleasby does. Charles focusses on (and finds himself beaten by) a short period of Nelson's life. We examine that short period in rather intense detail. Similarly, Barry Unsworth focusses on a short period in the life of Charles Cleasby. If Charles Cleasby is a kind of watermark, a kind of nowhere man, then Losing Nelson is the watermark of a watermark, the palimpsest of a palimpsest, a shadow's echo, echolalia.

All of which leaves you feeling - well, a bit funny. To read this book to the end requires you to adopt that shadowy mantle, to exist concommitant with shadows and airy nothings (to the degree that - upon arriving at Losing Nelson's sudden violent conclusion - you just don't feel it: it's history, but history that has not been brought satisfactorily to life.)

Losing Nelson is an odd, odd fish. Yes, it is erudite and well-written but - at the same time - there is a peculiar lack of substance here, a feeling that you can't get to grips with the book however hard you try.

Rating:
Summary: Disturbing, not depressing
Review: Don't believe the reviewer who said this book is depressing. Most of it is very funny, particularly Charles's first encounter with David Bowie. The ending freaked me out though. Also not sure about the author's comment that most British people would put Nelson at the top of their list of national heroes - for better or worse, that would more likely be Bobby Moore these days.

Brilliant stuff all the same.