Category: Elizabeth Harrower

20 books of summer, 20 books of summer (2018), Australia, Australian Women Writers Challenge, Author, AWW2018, Book review, Elizabeth Harrower, Fiction, literary fiction, Publisher, Setting, Text Classics

‘The Catherine Wheel’ by Elizabeth Harrower

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The Catherine Wheel by Elizabeth Harrower

Fiction – paperback; Text Classics; 352 pages; 2014.

First published in 1960, The Catherine Wheel features all of Elizabeth Harrower’s literary trademarks: a young woman, a claustrophobic relationship, a brooding atmosphere and brilliant psychological insights.

Set in London during the 1950s, it’s a grim portrait of both the city and the troubled life of a 25-year-old Australian woman who arrives from Sydney to begin a law course by correspondence.

Clemency James moves into a boarding house and has a small circle of friends who keep her entertained. But when she meets Christian, a good-looking man with a much older wife, her quiet, stable and studious existence gets thrown into disarray.

Kind-hearted and somewhat passive, Clem cannot resist Christian’s charms even though she knows he’s trouble, for Christian, an out-of-work actor, has a gambling and alcohol problem. He’s vain, petty and narcissistic.

When Clem agrees to give him French lessons of an evening to sustain her meagre allowance she feeds into Christian’s fantasy of moving abroad and becoming successful. He wants Clem to come with him, and while she realises it’s an unlikely prospect — he’s married after all — she somehow succumbs to his ways and finds herself caught up in a claustrophobic relationship from which she cannot extricate herself.

Her friends, fearful for her welfare, find that whatever they say, Clem takes against them: she truly believes that for all her lover’s faults she’s the one who will be able to change him.

Restrained psychological drama

I’ve read several of Harrower’s books now and like her two earlier novels — Down in the City and The Long Prospect — this one is a slow burner. The author takes her time to not only build up a deft portrait of her characters, she painstakingly sets the scene so that her restrained psychological drama, which plays out in a domestic setting, feels authentic and immersive.

By the time the reader realises that Clem has got in over her head, it’s too late: she’s become blinded by Christian’s woeful behaviour and now there doesn’t seem to be any turning back because even if she does realise what’s really going on, she will have to deal with the slow-burning shame of it.

I admit that this book did try my patience at times, perhaps because it’s slightly too long for a character-driven story, but on the whole I found it a fascinating look at the intricate emotional webs that flawed humans are capable of weaving. It also proves an insightful look at unstable personalities, alcoholism and the far-reaching effects of psychological abuse.

For another take on this novel, please see Guy’s review.

This is my 17th book for #AWW2018 and 17th book for #20booksofsummer (apologies, I’m still playing catch-up with reviews; I’ve got two more to go after this one). I bought it a couple of years ago as part of a set of Harrower novels published by Text Classics. She’s promptly become one of my favourite authors and I look forward to reading the remaining two novels I have in my TBR some time soon.

20 books of summer (2017), Australia, Australian Women Writers Challenge, Author, AWW2017, Book review, Elizabeth Harrower, Fiction, literary fiction, Publisher, Setting, Text Classics

‘The Long Prospect’ by Elizabeth Harrower

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The Long Prospect

Fiction – paperback; Text Classics; 292 pages; 2013.

First published in 1958, The Long Prospect was Elizabeth Harrower’s second novel. It is a powerful example of Australian postwar literature, the kind of meaty novel that thrusts you into the messy lives of fascinating characters (some of them unkind), and then leaves an indelible impression.

Life in a boarding house

In it we meet 12-year-old Emily Lawrence, a lonely and unpopular girl living in a boarding house run by her maternal grandmother, Lilian, in the industrial northern town of Ballowra (said to be a thinly veiled version of Newcastle in NSW). Her parents, Harry and Paula, are estranged and live separate lives in Sydney.

Lilian is a domineering personality and she has few kind words to say to her granddaughter, whom she largely ignores, preferring to focus on her other interests instead — namely horse racing, gossiping with her friends and bossing around her new lover, Rosen, who also happens to be one of her boarders.

It’s only when a new boarder arrives, the fiercely intelligent scientist, Max, who works in the steelworks, that things begin to look up for Emily, for Max is a kind-hearted man and recognises Emily’s need for friendship and adult attention. He talks to her about great literature and science, treating her as an equal and encouraging her to pursue her studies and to dream big. But Lilian is not keen on their friendship and the novel’s storyline pivots on a dramatic confrontation with far-reaching consequences.

An immersive, slow burning story

Admittedly, it took me a long time to get into this story. It’s a slow burner, perhaps because the text is so dense and Harrower takes her time to build up a picture of the inner lives of this small dysfunctional family and its bitter, often cruel, self-absorbed members.

Long before we are ever introduced to Max, we come to know Emily quite intimately. We understand her love-starved existence  — the crush she had on a former boarder and career woman, Thea; the other crush she developed on a teacher, who failed to truly notice her; the disintegration of a valued friendship with a girl when she realised Emily was from a poorer, less socially acceptable class; her distant relationship with her father, Harry, whom she regards as a stranger; the lack of bond she feels with her mother, who was packed off to Sydney to earn a living when her marriage began to fail — and wish we could teach her to see beyond her troubled life.

That’s where Max comes in, for when he arrives the narrative begins to pick up speed, as he teaches Emily to try new things, to overcome her shyness, to learn about the world beyond the four walls of her bedroom.

“About people—it’s still true, Emmy. Don’t spend your nights being afraid of murderers and your days being shy, but at the same time, remember—”
He hardly knew how to voice a warning without frightening her, her reaction to his least word was apt to be disproportionate. He said, “Learn from people, but don’t be dispersed by them. And remember that the bad times have compensations. Unhappiness is not all loss. Not by any means. […]”

The Long Prospect fully immerses the reader in the domestic realm of an unconventional household. The characters are flawed, authentic, original. Harrower’s uncanny eye for detail and her descriptions of the heat and the industrial landscape make Ballowra a character in its own right, too.

But she’s also incredibly perceptive about the psychology of people and what makes various “types” tick (especially prepubescent girls, in this case), and her dialogue, complete with barbed comments and little cruelties, is brilliantly believable.

This deftly written story about family ties, cruelty, heartache, friendship and coming of age only confirms my opinion that Elizabeth Harrower is one of Australia’s most important writers. I can’t wait to read the rest of her back catalogue.

This is my my 9th book for #AWW2017 and my 8th book for #20booksofsummer. I bought it at the start of the year when I decided to purchase all of Harrower’s back catalogue and read them in the order in which they were written. I read Down in the City, her debut novel first published in 1957, in January and absolutely loved it.

Australia, Australian Women Writers Challenge, Author, AWW2017, Book review, Elizabeth Harrower, Fiction, literary fiction, Publisher, Setting, Text Classics

‘Down in the City’ by Elizabeth Harrower

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Down in the city by Elizabeth Harrower

Fiction – paperback; Text Classics; 290 pages; 2014.

Elizabeth Harrower is an Australian writer who has recently been rediscovered thanks largely to the efforts of Text Classics, which has republished all of her novels from the late 1950s and 60s, including one she withdrew from publication in 1971.

Last year I read her newly published short story collection, A Few Days in the Country and Other Stories, which was shortlisted for the 2016 Stella Prize. I was enamoured enough to want to explore more of her work, so I went right back to the start and purchased her debut novel, Down in the City, which was first published in 1957. I liked it so much, I promptly ordered the rest of her back catalogue. I think I might have discovered a new favourite author.

Domestic life in post-war Sydney

Down in the City is one of those moody, atmospheric novels that brims with menace and has a frisson of danger running just underneath the surface.

It’s set in Sydney one hot summer and tells the story of an unlikely marriage between two people from opposite ends of the social spectrum.

Esther Prescott is 33. She comes from a rich respectable family. She’s pretty, intelligent, calm and measured, but has led a fairly sheltered life, cosseted in a Rose Bay mansion with three brothers to protect her and a loving stepmother as her best friend.

One day Stan Peterson comes barging into her life. He’s flashy, loud, full of vim and vigour and quite unlike anyone she’s ever met before. Two weeks later she’s married him and moved into his King’s Cross flat.

Portrait of a marriage

The book charts their marriage as it morphs from an exciting new one to a troubled and obsessive one. It occasionally makes for uncomfortable reading, for it soon becomes clear that Esther’s domestic situation is an abusive one.

At first, keeping house is fun and she is eager to please her husband in whatever way she can. At all times she is kind and tolerant and thoughtful, prepared to befriend Stan’s neighbours (even though they are from a lower class than her) and to do whatever she can to make their living arrangements pleasant and comfortable.

But Stan is the type of man who is never pleased — and always selfish. He’s moody, evasive, cruel and sly. He is fond of the drink and likes to gamble. He’s never quite honest about how he makes a living and yet he’s always rolling in cash and has plenty to throw about. Women think he’s a boor and even his small circle of golfing buddies talk about him behind his back.

Stan was a man of grunts and nods and silences. If he could avoid an eye or a question, he did, his expression enigmatic. Nevertheless, after a few drinks at the club house he had given enough away — hints of grandiose schemes, not caring how his listeners interpreted them — to indicate that whatever his business might be, it was not legal.

It takes a little while for his true colours to come out, but when they do Esther is shocked and embarrassed and ashamed. She hides their domestic troubles from family and friends, and does a stirling job of keeping up appearances. But it’s heartbreaking to see her poise and grace and inner resolve begin to crumble.

A lightness of touch

Despite the rather heavy subject matter, Harrower writes such effortless, almost frothy, prose that the story moves along at a cracking pace without ever feeling oppressive. Yes, there’s a menacing undercurrent, a sense of creeping paranoia and a deep unease, but because the story is also told from Stan’s point of view, his actions are never that surprising. You know that he’s a manipulating, resentful, immature oaf; you just wish Esther knew it too.

It’s testament to Harrower’s skills that she can write such wonderful characters without turning them into caricatures or stereotypes. Esther’s naive and Stan’s a rogue, but their relationship is not entirely black and white: this is a delicately drawn and highly nuanced portrait of two people whose motivations, desires, hopes and dreams are simply not compatible. As the pair’s relationship changes over time and as Esther comes to realise her husband is not who — or what — she thinks he is, the reader comes to appreciate Harrower’s talents for emotionally acute observation.

Stan’s troubling behaviour, primarily his repeated, random and habitual use of intimidation to control Esther, is a textbook example of domestic abuse. Given it was written in the late 1950s, Down in the City seems decades ahead of its time. Back then, men went to work, women stayed at home, and what happened behind closed doors stayed there.

Its rather brilliant insights into psychological “warfare” on the home front makes this an important and compelling read. But its strong sense of time and place adds another level of interest, making it a truly rewarding read.

This is my second book for #AWW2017.

 

 

 

2016 Stella Prize, Australia, Author, AWW2016, Book review, Elizabeth Harrower, Fiction, Publisher, Reading Australia 2016, Setting, short stories, Text

‘A Few Days in the Country and Other Stories’ by Elizabeth Harrower

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A few days in the country and other stories by Elizabeth Harrower

Fiction – hardcover; Text Publishing; 256 pages; 2016. Review copy courtesy of the publisher.

Elizabeth Harrower is an Australian writer whose work — four novels written between 1957 and 1966 — had fallen into obscurity until Text Classics republished her 1966 novel The Watch Tower in 2012. Text has since republished her three earlier novels — Down in the City, The Long Prospect, and The Catherine Wheel — as well as a fifth novel, In Certain Circles, penned in 1971, which Harrower had “withdrawn from publication”. (This went on to be nominated for almost every Australian literary award going and won the Voss Literary Prize in 2015.)

A Few Days in the Country and Other Stories, which was published in Australia last year and has just been long listed for the 2016 Stella Prize, is her first collection of short stories. There are 12 stories altogether. These include stories originally published in Australian journals in the 1960s and 1970s, a couple of unpublished ones from her archives, and one published for the first time last year in the New Yorker. (You can read that story in full here.)

The collection is billed as “essential reading for Harrower fans”, but given I’ve not read Harrower before I think it works just as well as an introduction to her work: having read this volume I’m now keen to explore her novels.

Tales about women

The stories, mostly about women trying to find their place in the world, whether leaving home for the first time or having lived more than half their lives in domestic servitude, are exquisitely written. The prose is polished and restrained and yet there is emotion — sadness, grief, excitement, vitality and vulnerability — on almost every page.

At times I was reminded of Harrower’s compatriot, Madeleine St John, and the great English writer Elizabeth Taylor, all of whom so expertly dissect morals, manners and human behaviour. But perhaps it’s also because all three writers explore a world, now outdated, in which women were subservient to men and expected to lead genteel, quiet lives. In many ways, Harrower’s stories are throwbacks to a different era.

This is exemplified in my favourite story in the collection — The Beautiful Climate — in which a man called Hector Shaw buys a decrepit holiday cottage on an island off the coast of Sydney and then forces his wife and 18-year-old daughter to help him do it up every weekend for the next two years:

As Mr Shaw had foretold, they were constantly occupied putting the house in order, but now and then he would buy some green prawns, collect the lines from the spare-bedroom cupboard, and take his family into the middle of the bay to fish. While he made it obligatory to assume that this was a treat, he performed every action with his customary air of silent, smouldering violence, as if to punish misdemeanours, alarming his wife and daughter greatly.

As time progresses, it becomes clear that Mr Shaw is a domestic tyrant who doesn’t even realise how his behaviour scares his loved ones. He breaks off a friendship with his neighbours because he doesn’t like the fact their son asked their daughter out on a date. And no sooner has the cottage been fixed up than he decides to sell it, depriving his wife and daughter from enjoying the fruits of their labour.

Not very nice people behaving badly

There are other “Mr Shaws” dotted throughout the collection — indeed, men don’t come off very well at all, though Harrower refrains from casting judgement on any of her characters. But, equally, some of the women in these stories aren’t particularly nice either, such as  the rich and snobbish Julia Holt, in Cornucopia, who ranks her friends into grades (Grade I friends are “notable people”, Grade II are “hoity-toity daughters of earthy butchers or pretty secretaries living in two-bedroomed bungalows”).

Trials of the heart also feature strongly — in The North Sea the first-person female narrator flees to rural Scotland to come to terms with her divorce; in A Few Days in the Country the depressed Sophie contemplates suicide, presumably because she’s been hurt in love — but Harrower’s stories are never mawkish or sentimental; they’re melancholy, and often sad, but there’s also a sense of hope, too…

A Few Days in the Country and Other Stories will be published in the UK on 31 March, and the US & Canada in April.

This is my 12th book for #ReadingAustralia2016 and my 8th for #AWW2016.