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345 pages, Hardcover
First published May 7, 2006
There was just enough mystery, just enough insightful reflection on the relationships we have with our own childhoods, a touch of exploration on what happens when staid, male academics meet live-wire, unhappy women – do opposites really attract or is it not more often bad chemistry? Or in this case, biology. Scientists and artists, male and female. There was just enough of these things to make this a very enjoyable and worthwhile book for me.
I liked how the time shifts re-enforced the impression of the flow of life – how memories and the interpreted and re-interpreted experiences that we have in childhood not only shape us, but, when we are old, provide a backdrop to and a way of explaining our lives. Dies are cast early on, and although these childhood experiences mix and mould with decisions that we take, the two together make for a fairly fatalistic, destiny-formed view of life. Thomas Hardy definitely came to mind:
“We cannot unweave, and remake. For chance and choice happen. They coincide, they coalesce, they mix, and then their joint outcome becomes as hard and as fixed as cement. Like a fossil in stone, it hardens, in its own indissoluble, immutable shape.”
And, even more pessimistically:
“How can old Professor Clark … how can he think for one moment that he has a hope, a chance, a possibility of redemption?”
The imagery of the sea, of cliffs and rock-pools reminded me of my own childhood. Beaches and tidal pools hold a peculiar fascination for all children. Can it be because it is from here that life first evolved?
There was something captured in here, something akin to the poetry of memory and how childhood memories are so integrated into our adult lives that often we don’t know that we are acting on them, because of them and in what ways our earliest memories make us who we are.
It was less a case of two people looking back ruefully at their losses and mistakes and the very fact that they suddenly find themselves to be old and have no idea where all the time went (though these things are important in the novel). It is more an attempt to isolate a few things that do actually make us human – our ability to remember and be conscious, our propensity for collecting things (biological historical facts, for example), and, above all our awareness of these things. Coupled with, or in some way negated by; or at least there is a paradox in there, our inability to really explain them. That science can only go so far before the mists of our evolved selves (in all senses of that phrase, i.e. ourselves and our ancestors) cloud issues and make us ultimately unexplainable.
A thoughtful and enjoyable read.