Freedom? At Last?

The fifth and final Patrick Melrose novel by Edward St. Aubyn, At Last, is a fitting conclusion to this important literary series.  The book focuses on the funeral of Patrick’s mother and includes many flashbacks to earlier periods.  This may be the one novel in the series that might not stand so well on its own.  There are many references to characters and incidents from the previous books, and I wouldn’t pick up this one without having read at least some of the others first.

Patrick has suffered terribly over the years from both the overt and passive cruelty of his two parents.  Now that his mother is dead (his father passed away some time ago) he can circle back yet again and try to put it all in perspective.  The pain has been punishing, as have the self-limiting and sometimes self-destructive habits learned to avoid feeling the full brunt of the blows. At times Patrick’s intelligence is his own worst enemy as he willfully contorts reality in his efforts to survive emotionally, to support his children, to satisfy his own needs.

As always the writing is condensed, striking, and often just plain stellar.  St. Aubyn is a great prose stylist.  Even if the emotional drama isn’t your cup of tea, the words are to be savored.  These are really, really good books.  They will last. Serious readers need to read them.

Has Patrick found some measure of safety?  I dearly hope so. His parents are gone. Free?  At last?  If this is freedom . . .

Wishing peace for Patrick.

I'll Take the Apple Pie, Thanks

Mother's Milk is the fourth of Edward St. Aubyn's Patrick Melrose novels.  The book may be somewhat uneven, but nonetheless it is St. Aubyn in his most cynical and writerly mode, and as such it is not to be missed.  I won't go into the particulars.  I've blogged about the previous three books, and this one is no different.  The writing is a joy, the outlook anything but joyful.  I suspect this is not for most female readers, but I would happily be corrected on that score. In this book we witness scathing prose on a young child's view of the world, motherhood, long-term marriage, alcoholism, sexual desire, philanthropy, assisted suicide, and American culture in general. 

Edward St. Aubyn

It's a short book that won't hold you up for long, but there are so so many gems to be examined and reexamined along the way. As you please ... go straight through or dally along the jaded way.

If you haven't read the Patrick Melrose books, you're missing something important. They may not be your cup of tea in some ways, but no serious reader should be without that particular tasting experience.

Still Life

In my 1968 high-school biology class, we were shown a human fetus floating in formaldehyde inside a glass jar.  On the outside of the glass was a label that named the fetus “Al Most”. It sat on a shelf for any of us to contemplate at any time.

A little gross, a lot tasteless.  And given the today’s contentious political climate I’m not sure that the presentation would pass muster in most public schools.  But it was striking to view something potentially human that never quite got there, but instead was caught in a kind of permanent suspended animation (or de-animation). I couldn’t help but wonder what “Al” might have become.

Something similar occurred to me when reading Yiyun Li’s KinderThan Solitude, a new novel by a talented writer born in China, living in America. Much has been made of the book in terms of the immigrant experience, but for me it there were other more striking elements.  Three main characters are all transformed and suspended by the unsolved poisoning of a Chinese compatriot.  The political and cultural chaos in China at the time also muddy the waters. Two of those characters immigrate to the US, the other stays in China.  The two that leave China live tightly self-circumscribed lives, limited and safe, and at least in part defined by Eastern cultural norms.  Paradoxically the one how remains in China leads a more outwardly Western and outwardly active life, but he too is caught in a kind of suspended animation until current events open a door forward.

This is not a long book, but it is not to be taken lightly.  The voice is serious and the language is compact.  I often had to reread paragraphs that I knew I didn’t get on the first go round.  But the rewards are significant.  In a larger sense I did learn something about Eastern values and a particularly not American approach to life, and that was very rewarding.  This is cross-cultural fiction at a very high level.

Three lives suspended, in a way wasted, or at least in no way living out their full potential.  There is no obvious scapegoat.  But I did appreciate the tremendous loss of what could have been. 

What might “Al” have become?