Anyone who has ever read any of my other reviews of Sarah Waters' books will have already heard about - and been immeasurably bored by - my enduring admiration for her work.
They will also be familiar with my mixed relationship with said work, so I won't rehash it again. Suffice to say, Waters' debut novel was the last one I came to and it has stirred up rather heated debate in the little book group in my heart.
It is no surprise that critics and readers alike were gripped and excited by this new writer, who showed a brilliant ability to characterise, to create a sense of place and time, to sprawl her characters' stories across many settings and situations, just as real life itself tends to spew all over the place, rather than just chunter along nicely on a pre-set, pre-destined course.
And for that reason, I liked Tipping the Velvet very much. Not having seen the TV adaptation, the storyline had not already been spoiled for me and I enjoyed the way in which the central character Nancy makes her way from naive starstruck oyster girl, to rent boy and decadent 'tom', as she tries to find her true identity in Victorian London.
Everybody knows that Tipping the Velvet is absolutely bursting with girl-on-girl action and I can confirm that the adaptation was no exaggeration of the book. The central section in particular is so full of heaving bosoms, damp 'spendings' and choice terms for a lady's private parts that I became convinced a crusty copy of this book must be tucked under the mattress of every teenage boy in the land. It's so full-on that it actually becomes boring and loses its titillation factor, but I suspect even that is a purposeful and clever technique employed by the author.
At the beginning of her story, Nancy is young, inexperienced and frightened by her burgeoning feelings for her friend Kitty and the tentative, gentle sex reflects that. Later on, betrayed and jaded by the world, Nancy almost loses herself in the abandon of sex as a way of life, indeed, a way of earning a living. If the reader is bored with the constant depravity, then Nancy most certainly is and this pulls the role of physical gratification back into perspective for both character and reader.
All in all, a highly entertaining read, just don't give it to your gran for Christmas.
Showing posts with label sarah waters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sarah waters. Show all posts
Saturday, 13 November 2010
Friday, 12 November 2010
Review: Affinity by Sarah Waters
Although I was aware of Sarah Waters' existence for many years before reading her work for the first time, I had never really been tempted to pick up her books because I was mainly familiar with the TV adaptations of her stories. I say 'familiar' but I hadn't actually watched them. Obviously, the screening of Tipping the Velvet several years ago could only have failed to enter your consciousness if you were living on the moon - lesbian Victorian action? Come on!!! - but I'm afraid I didn't tune in.
Until fairly recently, I probably had Waters pegged as a Catherine Cookson-style author, a peddler of bodice-busting potboilers and that genre holds absolutely nothing of interest for me as a reader. It was only when I picked up Waters' latest work, The Little Stranger, that I realised my mistake. It immediately became one of my all-time favourite novels and I vowed to read the rest of her canon as a matter of urgency. After reading The Night Watch, I was utterly converted and I am pleased to say I now have her complete five books on my shelf (in alphabetical order, natch).
Since then I have read her books in, I believe, reverse chronological order. And funnily enough, I think my affection for them diminishes slightly in accordance with that. Don't get me wrong, no matter what aspects of her stories I might find unsuited to my personal taste, there can be no denying that Waters is a superb storyteller who keeps you hooked until the very last page. But I enjoyed Fingersmith slightly less than The Night Watch and Affinity is probably on a similar level for me.
Compared with the complex narrative weaving Waters employs in The Night Watch - which, despite my enormous regard for The Little Stranger, I think is probably her finest work to date - Affinity is a simple enough tale. A troubled middle class woman tries to atone for a past mistake by becoming a Lady Visitor at London's forbidding Millbank Prison, where she attempts to brighten the grim days of the female prisoners within.
It is only a matter of time before her attention is captured by the enigmatic Selina Dawes, a well-known medium who was imprisoned after a young woman suffered injuries during a seance. Whether or not Dawes' talents are genuine remains to be seen, but she certainly weaves an unshakeable spell over our heroine.
Dawes' story is revealed in flashback, even as her present day relationship with her enraptured visitor advances towards its nerve-shredding climax. This is a highly effective device, as nothing is more guaranteed to keep pages turning than the promise of a secret soon to be revealed.
I liked this story better than Fingersmith, as the intentions of the main character appear purer than either of the female leads in the latter book. There was also a notable absence of sex, with Waters focusing more on the electricity between two women forbidden to touch, not just by society but by prison rules. The heroine is sympathetic and this unsatisfied longing worked better, I found, than more explicit scenes described in Waters' other books.
Although to date I have preferred Waters' post-war stories, Affinity is still a gripping and infinitely readable tale with a decent twist.
Until fairly recently, I probably had Waters pegged as a Catherine Cookson-style author, a peddler of bodice-busting potboilers and that genre holds absolutely nothing of interest for me as a reader. It was only when I picked up Waters' latest work, The Little Stranger, that I realised my mistake. It immediately became one of my all-time favourite novels and I vowed to read the rest of her canon as a matter of urgency. After reading The Night Watch, I was utterly converted and I am pleased to say I now have her complete five books on my shelf (in alphabetical order, natch).
Since then I have read her books in, I believe, reverse chronological order. And funnily enough, I think my affection for them diminishes slightly in accordance with that. Don't get me wrong, no matter what aspects of her stories I might find unsuited to my personal taste, there can be no denying that Waters is a superb storyteller who keeps you hooked until the very last page. But I enjoyed Fingersmith slightly less than The Night Watch and Affinity is probably on a similar level for me.
Compared with the complex narrative weaving Waters employs in The Night Watch - which, despite my enormous regard for The Little Stranger, I think is probably her finest work to date - Affinity is a simple enough tale. A troubled middle class woman tries to atone for a past mistake by becoming a Lady Visitor at London's forbidding Millbank Prison, where she attempts to brighten the grim days of the female prisoners within.
It is only a matter of time before her attention is captured by the enigmatic Selina Dawes, a well-known medium who was imprisoned after a young woman suffered injuries during a seance. Whether or not Dawes' talents are genuine remains to be seen, but she certainly weaves an unshakeable spell over our heroine.
Dawes' story is revealed in flashback, even as her present day relationship with her enraptured visitor advances towards its nerve-shredding climax. This is a highly effective device, as nothing is more guaranteed to keep pages turning than the promise of a secret soon to be revealed.
I liked this story better than Fingersmith, as the intentions of the main character appear purer than either of the female leads in the latter book. There was also a notable absence of sex, with Waters focusing more on the electricity between two women forbidden to touch, not just by society but by prison rules. The heroine is sympathetic and this unsatisfied longing worked better, I found, than more explicit scenes described in Waters' other books.
Although to date I have preferred Waters' post-war stories, Affinity is still a gripping and infinitely readable tale with a decent twist.
Friday, 23 April 2010
Review: Fingersmith by Sarah Waters
A real heavyweight among contemporary storytellers, Sarah Waters is one of my most admired authors. Her last three novels have each been nominated for the prestigious Man Booker Prize and the television adaptation of Tipping the Velvet, her debut tale of lesbianism in Victorian England, was an eye-opening experience for many viewers.
I have not yet read Tipping the Velvet but, after being gripped by her latest novel, The Little Stranger, I have decided to explore Waters' back catalogue. Set in the aftermath of the Second World War, when society has changed and formerly rich families are struggling to maintain their grip on the good life, The Little Stranger tells a slow and creeping story about the effects of decay, both physical and social. Brilliantly narrated by a character who keeps you guessing about his own motives and plays with your sympathies, it touches on the supernatural in an ambiguous way that I find rather thrilling.
So I went on to read The Nightwatch, again set in and around the Second World War, and I was not disappointed. With this novel, Waters seems to excel in telling stories that are kind of about nothing - nothing, that is, other than the complexities and absurdities of human life. Even though it often concerns itself with the minutiae of day to day life - affairs, failed romance, petty and not so petty crimes - the secrets you know are coming still grip and enthral the reader. Telling the story in reverse chronological order, Waters' grasp of structure is awe-inspiring and a useful lesson to all aspiring writers out there.
As a reader, Fingersmith was my first foray into Waters' Victorian period. And to be brutally honest, after the first few pages, my heart was starting to sink. Although it had clearly been intricately researched and was written with as much class as ever, I began to feel uneasy. For the dialogue was too twee, the research shovelled too heavily onto the page, as if the authenticity of its setting had been judged more important than the story or establishment of character. When a chap nicknamed 'Gentleman' turned up, I wondered if I had inadvertantly picked up a Catherine Cookson potboiler by mistake.
But I stuck out this inauspicious beginning and almost immediately, my faith began to pay off. When Waters allowed us to move beyond the grim atmosphere of a thieves' den in Victorian London, the story picked up apace and before long, I was hooked. The twist at the end of part one literally made my jaw drop and now, I cared - I wanted to know what happened to these characters and I had opinions on how their fates should pan out, which is surely the mark of a truly successful storyteller.
Of course there was a bit of lesbo action, but it was handled in a tender and not remotely titillating manner. Indeed, given the behaviour of the story's male population, getting busy with a fellow chick seemed an infinitely more favourable prospect. At one point, I was a little concerned that a subplot about sexual deviancy was going to poison the experience, but it was expertly handled. Without subjecting the reader to the ins and outs of it, so to speak, the deeply unsettling influence is made to pervade the atmosphere, just as it does the lives of Waters' fictional heroines.
Drawing characters that are all too human, Waters leaves you wondering if they deserved their fates; who was good, who was bad and just how far you have to go in order to earn redemption.
I have not yet read Tipping the Velvet but, after being gripped by her latest novel, The Little Stranger, I have decided to explore Waters' back catalogue. Set in the aftermath of the Second World War, when society has changed and formerly rich families are struggling to maintain their grip on the good life, The Little Stranger tells a slow and creeping story about the effects of decay, both physical and social. Brilliantly narrated by a character who keeps you guessing about his own motives and plays with your sympathies, it touches on the supernatural in an ambiguous way that I find rather thrilling.
So I went on to read The Nightwatch, again set in and around the Second World War, and I was not disappointed. With this novel, Waters seems to excel in telling stories that are kind of about nothing - nothing, that is, other than the complexities and absurdities of human life. Even though it often concerns itself with the minutiae of day to day life - affairs, failed romance, petty and not so petty crimes - the secrets you know are coming still grip and enthral the reader. Telling the story in reverse chronological order, Waters' grasp of structure is awe-inspiring and a useful lesson to all aspiring writers out there.
As a reader, Fingersmith was my first foray into Waters' Victorian period. And to be brutally honest, after the first few pages, my heart was starting to sink. Although it had clearly been intricately researched and was written with as much class as ever, I began to feel uneasy. For the dialogue was too twee, the research shovelled too heavily onto the page, as if the authenticity of its setting had been judged more important than the story or establishment of character. When a chap nicknamed 'Gentleman' turned up, I wondered if I had inadvertantly picked up a Catherine Cookson potboiler by mistake.
But I stuck out this inauspicious beginning and almost immediately, my faith began to pay off. When Waters allowed us to move beyond the grim atmosphere of a thieves' den in Victorian London, the story picked up apace and before long, I was hooked. The twist at the end of part one literally made my jaw drop and now, I cared - I wanted to know what happened to these characters and I had opinions on how their fates should pan out, which is surely the mark of a truly successful storyteller.
Of course there was a bit of lesbo action, but it was handled in a tender and not remotely titillating manner. Indeed, given the behaviour of the story's male population, getting busy with a fellow chick seemed an infinitely more favourable prospect. At one point, I was a little concerned that a subplot about sexual deviancy was going to poison the experience, but it was expertly handled. Without subjecting the reader to the ins and outs of it, so to speak, the deeply unsettling influence is made to pervade the atmosphere, just as it does the lives of Waters' fictional heroines.
Drawing characters that are all too human, Waters leaves you wondering if they deserved their fates; who was good, who was bad and just how far you have to go in order to earn redemption.
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