The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters

Firstly - very sad to hear about the death of Debo Devonshire (Debo Mitford). She lived a long and busy life, but it is the end of an era - and the end of that faint hope I had of meeting her.

Secondly - my review of Sarah Waters' new novel The Paying Guests. I actually read this for Shiny New Books, but some miscommunication revealed that somebody else was actually reviewing it for our third issue (our in early October - eek, so many books to read by then) so, instead, I reviewed it over at Vulpes Libris!

I love Waters, but each of her novels always seems (to me) just to fall short of being truly great. So... what did I think of The Paying Guests? That tantalising question can lead you straight into my review...

Waters run backwards

The final book I read in 2010 - deftly added to the list I posted a couple of days ago - was Sarah Waters' The Night Watch. This is my third Waters novel, and this year was the year of Third Time Lucky (c.f.: Evelyn Waugh; Muriel Sparks) - but not, as it happened, with Waters. That sounds like one of my shortest reviews, doesn't it? Sorry, folks, but I'm not stopping there... After quite liking Affinity back in 2003 or 2004, I loved The Little Stranger this summer - and if it hadn't been for that frustrating ending, it would have been one of my favourite reads this year. But I had caught the Waters bug, and my post-Christmas read was The Night Watch, only approx. four years after everyone else.

For those who haven't read this already, I'll give you a quick overview. The unusual angle of The Night Watch is that it is told backwards. Events kick off in 1947, and work their way backwards to 1941, stopping off in 1944. That's not as many stepping stones as I expected, when I read various reviews of this novel in 2006, when it was published, and it does rather put the novel between two stools. On the one hand, there are all sorts of clues laid down regarding past events (further on in the narrative); on the other hand, since there are only three sections - and the final one is very short - it feels a bit like Waters didn't let herself experiment quite enough. Al this leads me, if you're not careful, to start talking about sjuzhet and fabula, or histoire and recit, if we're getting all theoretical. Apologies if this is known already, but quick crash course in a bit Russian Formalism: 'fabula' is the chronological series of events; 'sjuzhet' is the way this is arranged in a narrative. So Waters has her sjuzhet all in a twist.

Which all means that Waters could be a little self-conscious when she writes this:

"I go to the cinema," said Kay; "there's nothing funny about that. Sometimes I sit through the films twice over. Sometimes I go in half-way through, and watch the second half first. I almost prefer them that way - people's pasts, you know, being so much more interesting than their futures. Or perhaps that's just me..."

But, as usual, I'm getting ahead of myself.

There are plenty of characters, and plenty of things going on, in The Night Watch. Sarah Waters being Sarah Waters, quite a lot of the novel is about being a lesbian in wartime (I loved the if-you're-in-the-know reference to 'Quaint Irene' from Mapp and Lucia as the name of a boat) - and four of the central characters are lesbians, who seem to all be in love with each other at various stages of the novel. Well, one of them - Mickey - appears to be immune to the charms of Helen, Julia, and Kay, but they are all embroiled with one another. To be honest, I didn't find any of the female characters particularly well delineated - throw in Viv, Helen's colleague at a sort of post-war dating agency, and they all rather blurred into one. Even Julia's novelistic career didn't help me remember which one was which until we were a hundred or so pages in.

Not so the men. Viv's brother Duncan is doing a menial job in a factory, and has a surprise reunion with Robert Fraser. Duncan's naive, bulky uncertainty and Robert's confident charm are done very well - but the reader has no idea what sort of reunion is taking place. Were they colleagues, comrades-in-arms, or romantically involved? I couldn't possibly tell you, of course...

I'm being a bit critical, so I shall redress the balance - Waters' structure is often done very well. The careful laying of clues, and all manner of mysterious events, lead to plenty of gasp-moments in the second half. Obviously I shan't reveal these, but the secret passing of a ring; curious Uncle Horace; and whispers of infidelity are all clues to watch out for... and lead to satisfying 'oh, right' moments later.

But as with The Little Stranger, which was almost all compelling reading but had a dud 100 pages, The Night Watch is longer than it needs to be, and drags occasionally. At her best, Waters can tear a story along - but at her worst, it feels rather self-indulgent and unedited.

And then... I feel a bit mean, quoting this bit, as it's the worst offender - but:

"What's the matter? Aren't you happy?"

"Happy?" Viv blinked. "I don't know. Is anybody happy? Really happy, I mean? People pretend they are."

"I don't know either," said Helen, after a moment. "Happiness is such a fragile sort of thing these days. It's as though there's only so much to go round."

Do people talk like this? Did people ever talk like this - except in novels? It's the sort of thing 1930s plays are scattered with, but I doubt it ever spilled over into read life...

But I'm only picking all these holes because I'm trying to work out why The Night Watch got shortlisted for all sorts of awards. There is so much to like in Waters' novel, and it was definitely compelling reading much of the time. Writing the narrative backwards is a good idea executed without pretension, but also perhaps without reaching its potential. But somehow, for me, Waters missed the mark. The Little Stranger was very nearly a brilliant novel. The Night Watch was very nearly a very good novel. I've not read all of Waters' novels, but... is she destined to always fall short from her potential? Or am I a lone voice in the wilderness? Fans of Waters - convince me!

Stranger and stranger...

One of the fun side-effects of Project 24 (although not as frequent as I'd hoped it would be) has been reading books which have lain neglected on my bookshelves for quite a while. And one of those was The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters, lent to me by lovely Curzon a long, long time ago... (and which has now become #14 on Project 24, because I accidentally tore some pages, and bought Curzon a replacement copy, keeping the original... oops! Not my usual style, promise.) It seemed the perfect sort of thing to take away with me on holiday, staying in rambling old houses converted into Youth Hostels. I read most of it in Grinton Lodge Youth Hostel, which looks like this:


So - atmosphere: check.

Everyone in the blogosphere seemed to be reading The Little Stranger around the time I was on holiday last year. I, on the other hand, was reading things by Ivy Compton-Burnett, Elizabeth Taylor, Janni Visman... well, better late than never. Still, there must be one or two people who are later than me in reading The Little Stranger, so I won't assume universal knowledge...

Waters, who made her name with Victorian novels (including the only I'd previously read: Affinity) has been moving steadily nearer the present, and The Little Stranger is set just after World War Two. All except the first scene, which is much earlier - the protagonist is a little boy being snuck into Hundreds Hall by his mother, who is a servant there. He loves the house, and wants to take a souvenir - hacking a plaster acorn from a corridor. From little acorns...

Next we see, the little boy has become Dr. Faraday and is heading out to Hundreds Hall because the (now sole) servant Betty is complaining of illness. Turns out she just wants to get away from the house for a bit - because she senses things are wrong. Quite how they're wrong, she doesn't specify; but something is wrong. But this incident leads Faraday to an increasingly close intimacy with the family - plain, unmarried Caroline; her brother Roderick who is recovering from a nasty war injury, and their dignified mother, simply Mrs. Ayres. Faraday is excited about being able to visit a house he has admired since childhood, and Hundreds Hall is certainly a powerful presence in the novel. Its former glory, and its current decay, are realised wonderfully by Waters. It's something of a truism to say that 'the house is itself a character', but you have to take your hat off to Waters' ability to invest Hundreds Hall with this power without it becoming a caricature of Gothic literature. The house remains comfort and terror; mystery and simplicity; homely and unhomely.

For soon Betty's claims that something's wrong seem to be true. A party is held (Mrs. Ayres' is trying to set up Caroline with a neighbouring bachelor) where a young girl is savaged by Caroline's usually docile dog. At the same time, Roderick is experiencing ghostly goings-on in his bedroom...

I'm not going to spoil the ensuing events, but suffice it to say there appears to be a 'little stranger' creating all sort of havoc for the Ayres family. Since The Little Stranger is narrated by Faraday, we often aren't 'present' for the events, but Waters does a simply brilliant job of relaying them later (usually a big no-no for writers) without losing the tension. And this is quite a scary book. I've not read many scary books since my Point Horror phase, and perhaps a slightly creepy old Youth Hostel wasn't the best place to read this novel... I was a little scared to close my eyes.

Waters has suggested that The Little Stranger is primarily about class issues - as Faraday rises from the servant's son to a family friend, and can't get over some of his lingering resentment; similarly, the grounds of Hundreds Hall are being sold off to modern estates. Waters has even said that the ghost story element was a later addition. I'm glad she did, because novels which centre around class issues can be very tiresome if not done well, especially if they're retrospective. I prefer contemporary novels ('contemporary' is such a frustrating phrase... I mean contemporary-to-the-period-described, rather than contemporary-meaning-modern) which don't feel the need to hammer home how awful middle-class pretensions were, or throw their hands up in horror at the idea of servants. Waters doesn't fall into this trap, but I fear she'd have been nearer to it had the ghost-story element not crossed her mind.

For the most part, The Little Stranger was brilliant. You know me and long books, but I read this in two or three days; got up early to finish it, etc. etc. Waters' writing is pacy and compelling without sacrificing style, and I am really keen to read more by her. True, there was a little bit of a drag between p.100 and p.200, but only a little - and the second half of the novel flew by.

And then... the ending. Which I obviously don't want to discuss in detail. Close your eyes and sing la-la-la if you don't want even the remotest spoilers, but... I was disappointed and confused in about equal measure. And I shan't say more than that. I just wish Waters had given the novel a different sort of ending - if she had, then A Little Stranger could have been one of my favourite novels of the year, possibly the favourite. As it is, it might make top ten, but only just. Possibly very clever and cunning, but... disappointing.

More or less everyone seems to have reviewed this, so I suggest you do what I did and search for it in Fyrefly's incredibly useful Blog Search Engine. But I will point you to this excellent discussion on Shelf Love: be warned, it is spoilerific.


Books to get Stuck into:

Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier: Curzon reminded me how appropriate this would be as a companion read, and it's the book I *always* recommend to people when they ask for reading ideas. And it's Simon S's favourite novel! No review on Siab yet... but see Simon S's enthusiasm here.

The Haunting of Hill House - Shirley Jackson: my favourite American writer is definitely the Gothic side of horror, and rarely has the power of the house been drawn so chillingly or convincingly.