This was the last novel written by Burgess before his death in 1994. Other great novels by this accomplished novelist include his first, the Malaysian Trilogy, A Clockwork Orange, The four Enderby novels, One Hand Clapping and what I consider to be his masterpiece, Earthly Powers.
This book is a fictionalised account of the life of Christopher Marlowe who wrote the plays Tamburlaine, Faustus, The Jew of Malta and Edward II; there is a suggestion in the book that he collaborated with a young Shakespeare on Henry VI part 1.
It is narrated by a young actor, who is blatantly not present for much of the action but doesn't actually enter much into the action which seems a rather pointless device. It is also written in Elizabethan English, spelt modern-wise in dialogue but Elizabethan-style when quoting written texts (eg the plays); this is sometimes a little difficult to understand (Burgess makes up a language in A Clockwork Orange called Nadsat based on Russian slang which is easier to read than this; my favourite example of an author immersing you in the language of a bygone age is Hawksmoor by Peter Ackroyd). There is a lot made of the fact that names are flexible, thus Marlowe is often turned into Marley or Merlin.
The life of Kit Marlowe offers a fascinating plot. He was an atheist and sodomite at at time when both of these were capital offences. He wrote world class plays and was an honourable predecessor to Shakespeare. He spied for Francis Walsingham (which might explain how he got away with the sodomy and atheism for so long) and was killed (murdered?) is a brawl in a tavern in Deptford. Burgess turns this is into a classic novel but I think something a little easier to read and slightly faster paced might have been even more exciting.
Nevertheless, every Burgess is a masterpiece. May 2015; 269 pages
Showing posts with label Burgess. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Burgess. Show all posts
Friday, 15 May 2015
Sunday, 19 April 2015
"One hand clapping" by Anthony Burgess
Burgess wrote five novels in twelve months in 1959/60; this was one of them. It shows no signs of being rushed.
Janet, the narrator, is an ordinary working class woman who stacks shelves in a local supermarket and lives in a council house in Brancaster with husband Howard. Howard, orphaned by the blitz, sells used cars; he is an ordinary working class man except that he has a photographic memory.He uses this talent to win a television quiz show and then 'invests' the money on the horses to win big. Their lives are transformed: mink coats, posh hotels and foreign holidays. But Janet discovers new temptations and misses cooking baked beans on toast. And Howard, already traumatised by living under the shadow of the Hydrogen Bomb, finds extravagance meaningless, indeed demeaning.
Howard is a spooky character - Blitz-orphaned, Bomb-shadowed, talking and walking in his sleep - whose reaction to Janet's sister's suicide attempt is: let her die. Janet, the intelligent but ordinary girl forever worrying about her poor schooling, and conforming to the norms of 'people of her class' is a perfect counterpoint. They are torn between their old life and their new. Janet reluctantly embraces new horizons but decides that the orange sauce is bitter and the gravy cold. Howard reaches out to the new opportunities but realises he can never achieve them (he can answer mind-numbingly difficult quiz questions about books but he hasn't read them and he couldn't appreciate them if he had) and becomes embittered. As the story progress it becomes clear that the slightly sinister Howard has some dreadful plan in mind.
There are moments of shabby comedy. The TV show is supremely tacky And Janet and Howard are awkward and enraged by their new experiences. But the best line is: "The best thing to do, when you've got a dead body ... on the kitchen floor ... is to make yourself a good strong cup of tea."
(Burgess is the author of my second favourite first line of all time in his novel Earthly Powers: "It was the afternoon of my eighty-first birthday, and I was in bed with my catamite when Ali announced that the archbishop had come to see me.")
A beautiful story with a strong narrator voice, a gently inevitable plot, some fantastic characters and an overwhelming sense of the drabness of working class British life as the 1960s began. April 2015; 218 pages.
Janet, the narrator, is an ordinary working class woman who stacks shelves in a local supermarket and lives in a council house in Brancaster with husband Howard. Howard, orphaned by the blitz, sells used cars; he is an ordinary working class man except that he has a photographic memory.He uses this talent to win a television quiz show and then 'invests' the money on the horses to win big. Their lives are transformed: mink coats, posh hotels and foreign holidays. But Janet discovers new temptations and misses cooking baked beans on toast. And Howard, already traumatised by living under the shadow of the Hydrogen Bomb, finds extravagance meaningless, indeed demeaning.
Howard is a spooky character - Blitz-orphaned, Bomb-shadowed, talking and walking in his sleep - whose reaction to Janet's sister's suicide attempt is: let her die. Janet, the intelligent but ordinary girl forever worrying about her poor schooling, and conforming to the norms of 'people of her class' is a perfect counterpoint. They are torn between their old life and their new. Janet reluctantly embraces new horizons but decides that the orange sauce is bitter and the gravy cold. Howard reaches out to the new opportunities but realises he can never achieve them (he can answer mind-numbingly difficult quiz questions about books but he hasn't read them and he couldn't appreciate them if he had) and becomes embittered. As the story progress it becomes clear that the slightly sinister Howard has some dreadful plan in mind.
There are moments of shabby comedy. The TV show is supremely tacky And Janet and Howard are awkward and enraged by their new experiences. But the best line is: "The best thing to do, when you've got a dead body ... on the kitchen floor ... is to make yourself a good strong cup of tea."
(Burgess is the author of my second favourite first line of all time in his novel Earthly Powers: "It was the afternoon of my eighty-first birthday, and I was in bed with my catamite when Ali announced that the archbishop had come to see me.")
A beautiful story with a strong narrator voice, a gently inevitable plot, some fantastic characters and an overwhelming sense of the drabness of working class British life as the 1960s began. April 2015; 218 pages.
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