Review 2254: #1962 Club! The Reivers

The Reivers is William Faulkner’s last novel, written in 1962, which I chose as my last selection for the 1962 Club. Unlike some of his more famous novels, it is told straightforwardly by its main character, Lucius Priest, as a grandfather telling a yarn about his childhood to his grandson. I believe Faulkner wrote this novel, which reminded me of Huck Finn, for pure fun.

Key to the story, which is set in 1904 when Lucius is 11, is Boon Hoggenbeck, an overgrown man-child who works for Lucius’s grandfather, referred to as Boss. Lucius’s grandparents and parents have no sooner departed for the funeral of Lucius’s other grandfather than Boon decides to take Boss’s brand new automobile and Lucius to Memphis, both sort of colluding in this misbehavior without actually discussing it. On the way there, they discover that Ned, Boss’s Black coachman, has hitched a ride with them by hiding under a tarpaulin.

In these early days of cars in Mississippi, the trip to Memphis is in itself an adventure, but things heat up when Boon delivers himself and Lucius to a whorehouse (although Lucius calls it a boarding house) where Boon has a favorite girl, Miss Corrie.

A bunch of colorful characters appear, including Otis, a boy described as having something wrong and who you don’t notice until it’s almost too late. But the story really kicks in when the miscreants learn that Ned has traded Boss’s automobile for a horse that he plans to race against another horse that already beat it twice.

I wasn’t sure this was going to be my kind of story, but mindful of the time (it is definitely not politically correct in so many ways), and I mean 1904 not 1962, it is funny and contains some philosophizing about right and wrong.

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Review 2253: #1962 Club! The Pumpkin Eater

I chose The Pumpkin Eater for the 1962 Club because the title seemed vaguely familiar (aside from its nursery rhyme connections) and because I don’t think I’ve read any Penelope Mortimer. I think the title is familiar because there was a reasonably popular movie of it in 1964 starring Anne Bancroft.

The unnamed narrator is a wife and mother of a large number of children, the number, names, and ages (except one) never specified. At a young age, she was already married three times, once a widow, and already had quite a few children, including three stepchildren whose father died. As the novel opens, she is recounting a discussion with her father to her psychiatrist, in which her father is trying to dissuade Jake from marrying her, basically saying she is too flaky and has too many children.

As she goes on to tell the story of her marriage, nothing improves. Her psychiatrist thinks her desire to have more children is a pathology (and also entirely her responsibility). Both her psychiatrist and her doctor are disdainful and condescending to her. Nothing seems to be thought of her husband having affairs (although she naïvely believes he is faithful for quite some time despite an early incident with a girl named Philpot).

The fact is, Jake, a screenwriter, is gone on set most of the time, most of their friends are his, the family is wealthy enough to have servants, and even the children are absorbed by nurses early and by schools later. So, she has little to occupy herself with except small children and cooking.

This book is billed as black humor. I didn’t find it funny, but I did sympathize with the narrator. Some horrendous things are done to her, and all of the men around her are manipulative. I thought the novel was bleak rather than funny.

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Review 2252: #1962 Club! A Murder of Quality

The second book I chose for the 1962 Club is A Murder of Quality, the second George Smiley novel. I found it surprising because all the other George Smiley novels I’ve read have been espionage novels, and this one is a straight mystery.

George Smiley is retired when he is summoned by his old colleague, Miss Brimley, now the editor of a Christian magazine. She tells Smiley she would like him to investigate a letter the magazine received from Mrs. Rode, whose family are great supporters of the magazine. In the letter, Mrs. Rode claims her husband is trying to kill her. Smiley agrees to look into it, but the next day they learn that Mrs. Rode has been brutally murdered.

Mr. Rode is a tutor at a prestigious boys’ school, Carne, with a high church atmosphere. Smiley attends Mrs. Rode’s funeral pretending to be a journalist from the magazine. He finds out that though both Rodes belonged to a Baptist chapel when they arrived, Mr. Rode has converted to the English church and has been trying to fit in with the school staff, while Mrs. Rode did not. Mrs. Rode appears to have been deeply involved in chapel charitable activities.

The police are searching for a homeless woman named Jane. When Smiley goes to look at the crime scene, he meets Jane, who tells him she saw the devil fly away on silver wings.

The solution to the murder relies heavily on Smiley’s ability to understand his suspects’ characters. The novel is an interesting character study and a plunge into the school’s secrets.

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Review 2251: #1962 Club! We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Twice a year, Simon of Stuck in a Book and Kaggsy of Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings sponsor a Read the Year club, for which they randomly pick a year in the first three-quarters of the 20th century, and participants select books published during that year to read. This time, the year is 1962, and We Have Always Lived in the Castle is my first selection for the club.

However, as usual, I have already posted reviews for three other books published in 1962:

We Have Always Lived in the Castle is a true modern gothic novel (or maybe novella—it’s very short), moving gradually but compellingly to reveal its secrets. Mary Catherine Blackwood lives with her sister Constance and their Uncle Julian in the family home, isolated from the rest of the village. We first meet Mary Catherine on one of her biweekly trips to the village for food, where she carefully plots her course to try to avoid people. However, she is mocked by the villagers, both young and old.

Slowly, we learn the first secret—that six years ago when Mary Catherine was twelve, most of her family was poisoned. Mary Catherine survived because she had been sent to bed without supper, Constance because she seldom used sugar, which had arsenic in it; Uncle Julian ate very little, so he survived but has since been feeble and muddled. Constance was tried for the crime but found not guilty. Ever since then, the girls have avoided other people.

Mary Catherine’s narrative hints that things are going to change. First, Helen Clarke arrives for tea, as she does once a week, but she brings along a friend, and Constance seems to be responding to her suggestion that she get out more. Mary Catherine worries about this, for she is very protective of Constance. Then Cousin Charles arrives. Naïve Constance accepts him, but Mary Catherine thinks he’s a bad one.

Mary Catherine is a dreamy girl who has strange compulsions and rituals, but one by one, Charles dismantles her protections around their property. We can see that the sisters are soon to be shaken from their oddly comfortable existence.

Jackson was a master at evoking an atmosphere. I think only her The Haunting of Hill House surpasses this one in power.

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