The Skull & The Nightingale by Michael Irwin
I was lent this book by my friend Anna T, and I ignored it for a couple of months, as one often does with books one has been forcibly lent. However, knowing I would be seeing her next week I thought I should have a look at it.
The first two or three pages took some getting used to - they were written in a style of English no longer common, and required study - but after that I became completely immersed in it. The novel is set in the C18th and the author is a Professor of English Lit who specialises in that period, so the language and the literary references were, as far as I could see, spot on. It is that miraculous item, an intelligent book that is also a page turner. It was all going very nicely, I loved it - the discussion about how we use art to disguise the passions - with particular reference to Richardson's Clarissa was very interesting - and seeing it played out in the book was clever. The skull represents, I suppose human mortality - and our intellect, the vanity of our intellect - the brain goes, only the skull remains, the nightingale is the symbol of love, pastoral romance etc. which acts as cover for our lust. All very clever. However, it can be enjoyed without the enquiry into symbolism, since the plot and the main character's story are so good.
As is often the case with books I read the last 50 or so pages in a phrenzy to know what would happen - and then sadly, I was disappointed. Clearly my reading of the character of Fenwick was "wrong" - the action he took was not what I expected. He has already shown the reader that his reports to his godfather are often not completely true - are we also to assume that his presentation of his self to us is also not true... that he is much more like his godfather than we realise? Is he an unreliable narrator in wig and breeches? I think that must be the conclusion... I did not think such a skilled novel could have such a bumpy ending otherwise. I wonder if it was done to allow the possibility of a sequel? I found it very difficult that the Fenwick character had made the choice he made - to have made the other choice open to him might have smacked too much of "happy ending" which is of course not fashionable in literary novels - but nevertheless I was disappointed by it - he could have had the "happy ending" together with some thoughtful disquisition which might have tied matters up. Anyway, anyway.... a great book really. I will be surprised if I read any contemporary novels I like better this year.
I was lent this book by my friend Anna T, and I ignored it for a couple of months, as one often does with books one has been forcibly lent. However, knowing I would be seeing her next week I thought I should have a look at it.
The first two or three pages took some getting used to - they were written in a style of English no longer common, and required study - but after that I became completely immersed in it. The novel is set in the C18th and the author is a Professor of English Lit who specialises in that period, so the language and the literary references were, as far as I could see, spot on. It is that miraculous item, an intelligent book that is also a page turner. It was all going very nicely, I loved it - the discussion about how we use art to disguise the passions - with particular reference to Richardson's Clarissa was very interesting - and seeing it played out in the book was clever. The skull represents, I suppose human mortality - and our intellect, the vanity of our intellect - the brain goes, only the skull remains, the nightingale is the symbol of love, pastoral romance etc. which acts as cover for our lust. All very clever. However, it can be enjoyed without the enquiry into symbolism, since the plot and the main character's story are so good.
As is often the case with books I read the last 50 or so pages in a phrenzy to know what would happen - and then sadly, I was disappointed. Clearly my reading of the character of Fenwick was "wrong" - the action he took was not what I expected. He has already shown the reader that his reports to his godfather are often not completely true - are we also to assume that his presentation of his self to us is also not true... that he is much more like his godfather than we realise? Is he an unreliable narrator in wig and breeches? I think that must be the conclusion... I did not think such a skilled novel could have such a bumpy ending otherwise. I wonder if it was done to allow the possibility of a sequel? I found it very difficult that the Fenwick character had made the choice he made - to have made the other choice open to him might have smacked too much of "happy ending" which is of course not fashionable in literary novels - but nevertheless I was disappointed by it - he could have had the "happy ending" together with some thoughtful disquisition which might have tied matters up. Anyway, anyway.... a great book really. I will be surprised if I read any contemporary novels I like better this year.
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