Visitors : A Novel

Rating:
Summary: One of her Best--and I've Read Them All!
Review: An editor of mine once said to me that he didn't think a wholelot happened in an Anita Brookner novel. "It's like somebody takes a painting off the wall and contemplates the patch of wallpaper that hasn't faded. That's the book."

He was right--and he was very wrong.

Lives in Brookner's novels almost always follow the same arc as that wallpaper--from bright possibility to faded reality, and her characters are struck by the contrast of hopeful past and dim present. That is, the characters she most sympathizes with. Because in Brookner's world, there are the quiet, compliant, resigned types (who sometimes long to be bolder), and then there are brash heedless people who like FitzGerald's Daisy and Tom Buchanan smash things and people because they don't care what others think.

The painful and sometimes humiliating interaction of these two types is the source of the drama. Brookner's often compared to Henry James, and like James, she posits that adventures of consciousness, travels of the mind and heart, are as strange and threatening as any other trips we might make.

Brookner's newest novel, her seventeenth, is a gloriously moving example of her insight into this paradox, written as always in witty and crystalline prose, and with her usual poetic psychological precision.

Dorothea May grew up very quietly in a London suburb, and it shaped her values: "One ate plain food, was careful not to give offence, and stayed at home until one married." This outwardly sedate spinster's life--in which trips to Europe were as uneventful as trips to the library--was interrupted by an accidental meeting that lead to a happy fifteen-year marriage. But when her husband Henry died, Dorothea slipped back into the silence and virtual isolation she had been so accustomed to. While she had dearly loved her husband, when she at last got rid of his things, she "felt a sort of elation on realizing that in the future she would not be disturbed."

Well-off at seventy, in reasonably good health, but fighting recognition of her body's growing frailty, she's also profoundly aware of "approaching the end of life, and that silence was appropriate." Brookner captures the sustaining rituals of Dorothea's narrowed life with heartbreaking and at times comic accuracy. While her own family is gone, she does have rich in-laws left, and doesn't really mind providing them with a conversational "diversion" due to her perceived oddness.

These same in-laws--careful to phone her every week to check on her health, but never coming much closer--disrupt the reverie-filled life she's sunken into. Her sister-in-law's granddaughter has decided to come back to London from Massachusetts to get married, and Dorothea is pressured to offer her hospitality to the best man. The idea of a stranger in her home is appalling, but Dorothea can't say no to this surprising request.

Until now, she has been "moving through her shadowy rooms undisturbed, as though she were her own ghost." But the presence of a houseguest who is young and somewhat opaque to her, along with the oncoming wedding and the immersion in the present, is enough to change her life. That change is Jamesian: Dorothea comes to see her childhood, her parents, her marriage, her one brief affair in a completely new light. She emerges radiant with understanding, and can heroically face growing old: "the country without maps." It's an almost breathtaking series of insights and discoveries, and Visitors is that rare book: a literary page-turner.

Brookner's great gifts as a novelist are on lavish display in Visitors. Few authors can communicate as deftly and subtly as she can the shocking passage of time, or the baffling way friends can drift apart, and the quiet lies and evasions of family life. What's most amazing is that the quality of her work has been so consistently high year after year. If you haven't read any of her novels, Visitors is a wonderful introduction to one of our best and most consistently enjoyable contemporary novelists.

Lev Raphael, author of LITTLE MISS EVIL, 4th in the Nick Hoffman series...

Rating:
Summary: One of her Best--and I've Read Them All!
Review: An editor of mine once said to me that he didn't think a wholelot happened in an Anita Brookner novel. "It's like somebody takes a painting off the wall and contemplates the patch of wallpaper that hasn't faded. That's the book."

He was right--and he was very wrong.

Lives in Brookner's novels almost always follow the same arc as that wallpaper--from bright possibility to faded reality, and her characters are struck by the contrast of hopeful past and dim present. That is, the characters she most sympathizes with. Because in Brookner's world, there are the quiet, compliant, resigned types (who sometimes long to be bolder), and then there are brash heedless people who like FitzGerald's Daisy and Tom Buchanan smash things and people because they don't care what others think.

The painful and sometimes humiliating interaction of these two types is the source of the drama. Brookner's often compared to Henry James, and like James, she posits that adventures of consciousness, travels of the mind and heart, are as strange and threatening as any other trips we might make.

Brookner's newest novel, her seventeenth, is a gloriously moving example of her insight into this paradox, written as always in witty and crystalline prose, and with her usual poetic psychological precision.

Dorothea May grew up very quietly in a London suburb, and it shaped her values: "One ate plain food, was careful not to give offence, and stayed at home until one married." This outwardly sedate spinster's life--in which trips to Europe were as uneventful as trips to the library--was interrupted by an accidental meeting that lead to a happy fifteen-year marriage. But when her husband Henry died, Dorothea slipped back into the silence and virtual isolation she had been so accustomed to. While she had dearly loved her husband, when she at last got rid of his things, she "felt a sort of elation on realizing that in the future she would not be disturbed."

Well-off at seventy, in reasonably good health, but fighting recognition of her body's growing frailty, she's also profoundly aware of "approaching the end of life, and that silence was appropriate." Brookner captures the sustaining rituals of Dorothea's narrowed life with heartbreaking and at times comic accuracy. While her own family is gone, she does have rich in-laws left, and doesn't really mind providing them with a conversational "diversion" due to her perceived oddness.

These same in-laws--careful to phone her every week to check on her health, but never coming much closer--disrupt the reverie-filled life she's sunken into. Her sister-in-law's granddaughter has decided to come back to London from Massachusetts to get married, and Dorothea is pressured to offer her hospitality to the best man. The idea of a stranger in her home is appalling, but Dorothea can't say no to this surprising request.

Until now, she has been "moving through her shadowy rooms undisturbed, as though she were her own ghost." But the presence of a houseguest who is young and somewhat opaque to her, along with the oncoming wedding and the immersion in the present, is enough to change her life. That change is Jamesian: Dorothea comes to see her childhood, her parents, her marriage, her one brief affair in a completely new light. She emerges radiant with understanding, and can heroically face growing old: "the country without maps." It's an almost breathtaking series of insights and discoveries, and Visitors is that rare book: a literary page-turner.

Brookner's great gifts as a novelist are on lavish display in Visitors. Few authors can communicate as deftly and subtly as she can the shocking passage of time, or the baffling way friends can drift apart, and the quiet lies and evasions of family life. What's most amazing is that the quality of her work has been so consistently high year after year. If you haven't read any of her novels, Visitors is a wonderful introduction to one of our best and most consistently enjoyable contemporary novelists.

Lev Raphael, author of LITTLE MISS EVIL, 4th in the Nick Hoffman series...

Rating:
Summary: Brilliant subtlety
Review: In an age when most novels deal with issues in the heavy handed rhetoric of psychotherapy, it is a joy to see Brookner filter her observations with such subtelty and taste. And when most editors mandate that their authors "dramatize" every scene with clunky dialogue (as if we were children and could not get the message any other way!), I found it a meditative pleasure to read a novel so deeply steeped in a character's inner life. Yet, when dialogue appears, it is flawless.

Brookner is a supremely subtle writer. For example, many of Thea's differences with her husband's cousins are due to the fact that she is a gentile who married into a close-knit family of Jews. Yet, the word "Jew" never apears once. She manages to handle the issue delicately, without offending anyone, grinding an axe or drawing too much attention it.

It was an enlightening change to see life through the eyes of a seventy-year old, and unlike some of Brookner's novels, this book had a gently upbeat ending.

Rating:
Summary: Brookner Strikes Again
Review: In the reclusive and sensitive Mrs. May, Anita Brookner has created a character of utterly memorable proportions. Though no one is allowed behind the high walls of her inner world, the reader is invited to spend a week there: the impressions of this experience stick. Brookner's prose is flat but fertile, a golden plain that rustles in the breeze and is ripe for harvest. And other characters frequent these pages: the young as viewed from the treetops of age; the old and their shifting grasp on life; the dead exhumed and examined in the light. And all cry out to be heard, some with a genteel wave of the hand, others with self-satisified, irritated shouts. To know Mrs. May, one must begin to think the way she does, and perhaps this is the real brilliance of this novel: one is given a roadmap to her mind and urged to use it. It is difficult to believe that the "visitors" themselves could be as oafish as they are; this novel is also a meditation on the smiling thoughtlessness of youth. Age, too, must undergo rigorous cross-examination in the courtroom of this book, and the testimony given makes fascinating reading. Brookner is so smooth, so pleasant to imbibe, that one forgets she is a complex and sophisticated drink. Don't let the readability of "Visitors" fool you; this novel is fun, but hardly kidstuff.

Rating:
Summary: boring!
Review: While "Visitors" doesn't rank with the incomparable "Hotel du Lac", it still reverberates with Brookner's wonderfully careful prose and scrupulously examined characters.

Little occurs in the way of plot. In the world of Dorothea May and her husband's cousins, the carefully measured world of sheltered people over the age of seventy, the simplest change in their lives is the stuff of high drama. When Cousin Kitty asks Dorothea to take in the friend of her American granddaughter for a week, Dorothea is severely shaken. The simple act of having a border, and an unobtrusive one at that, is enough to make Dorothea examine her past and current life and decide that some changes are in order.

And yet the changes are infintesimal, small enough to be laughable in less capable hands. But, as usual, Brookner handles them masterfully. This novel contains mostly interior reflection and sometimes seems repetitive, even contradictory And yes, Brookner fans will recognize another aging, lonely, unfulfilled character. But her words never fail her and Brookner readers will not be disappointed.