Andrew suffers greatly from the loss of his wife Laura and cannot seem to move ahead as he constantly sees her in his dreams, but after meeting one very powerful woman, he begins to learn how to remember Laura while still being able to move on. Reprint.
Josephine Hart was born and educated in Ireland. She was a director of Haymarket Publishing, in London, before going on to produce a number of West End plays, including The House of Bernarda Alba by Frederico Garcia Lorea, The Vortex by Noel Coward, and The Black Prince by Iris Murdoch. She was married to Maurice Saatchi and had two sons. She was the author of Damage. Hart died, aged 69, of ovarian cancer in June 2011.
There are some books that leave you with such an uncomfortable feeling--one you can never forget. This book did that to me. The idea of Oblivion is that we die two deaths--the natural death and the second death when those who loved us slowly forget us.
Fiction. I doubt that you will find this on your local library’s bookshelves (I had to order it from inter-library loan). And, that is just fine. Because this is not a good book. If you want to read something that is fairly confusing, pretentious, and forgettable, this is the book for you. Blech.
Oblivion is simple, complex, rich, cold, intriguing, bleak, and hopeful. The relatively short novel not only contains its own plot, but an entire play, a drama critic's article, several letters, and a chunk of a secondary character's diary, making its structure a bit of a challenge. The transition to the play is jarring, and I had difficulty understanding that the play had started and that the thoughts being expressed were words said by the actors and not in the narrator's head. That may have been Hart's intent, in that the book moves rapidly and frequently between Andrew's (the narrator's) thoughts and dialogue with other characters, evoking the foggy experience of grief that blurs the line between outer and inner worlds -- being half there in each world, and yet not there at all, not sure if one is thinking or talking, hearing voices inside or outside. This could be brilliant, but I can't decide because it's not a pleasant place to be. Most of the book isn't a pleasant place to be.
The narrator is a British television interviewer who has recently lost his wife of ten years, but after a year is trying to move forward in his life with work and a new relationship while also navigating his relationships with his deceased wife, Laura, and her living parents. Laura's presence leaves him for only short periods of time, giving him brief periods of respite in which he can be present to this life. During the course of the book, Andrew is able to have longer periods of time in which he can leave Laura (yes, the question of who is leaving whom is one of the ideas explored) and remain in the land of the living. Hart's premise is that each of us dies two deaths -- one physical and one when we slip into oblivion, when we are forgotten. Andrew's character allows us to see the story from the living side, but Hart uses another pivotal character, a playwright who Andrew is to interview on his television series, who has explored and is advancing this idea of oblivion in her new play, to give us the story from the dead.
The playwright is a difficult character, but we are left wondering whether we find her difficult because she makes us uncomfortable with the truths she is exposing, because she imagines life after death as an all-truths-exposed, difficult clamoring for attention, or because she is cold and wicked. We don't know, and we aren't given much guidance. Andrew is uncertain of her as well. Even as a survivor of the holocaust, she is a woman who has lived a long unconventional life that has caused pain for others, and she doesn't engender warmth or sympathy. But what she tells us draws us closer to a view that horrifies and terrifies us. We are intensely uncomfortable, but we don't want to look away.
Hart's idea of a second death through oblivion, while deeply thought-provoking, is pushed too hard for me. The vehicle of the play is too much, too close to my face. The idea outgrows the story, and pieces of the novel feel missing: Andrew's relationship to the playwright is explored very little, and how the play and the playwright change him are completely missing. Andrew does find a way to co-exist with both the dead and the living at the end, but there's a sense that could have occurred without him ever meeting the playwright or seeing the play. It's a large, gaping hole. Maybe we are to imagine that piece ourselves?
I liked the first 70 pages of the novel, and then I didn't like it and almost quit; only its intellectual challenge kept me going. And then the last two lines made everything right, and I liked the entire book. But I am not sure how I got there. I recommend reading Oblivion, and I recommend having a good group of folks to discuss it with when done.
Bah, l'unica cosa interessante di questo libro, comprato usato, è il bigliettino che ho trovato fra le pagine del precedente possessore, su cui c'è scritto il nome di una persona, di una casa editrice e di un supermercato.
Like poetry, putting into words what I have been experiencing. There are actually two deaths. Physical death and when loved ones no longer remember the face, the laughter. When those alive finally let go and go on living. The use of a play within a novel was interesting.
Andrew è un giornalista televisivo di successo che, dopo la prematura scomparsa della moglie Laura, vorrebbe rifarsi una vita con Susan senza negare la memoria della persona amata, condannandola all’oblio. Temi non facili da trattare in un romanzo riuscito solo parzialmente. La prima parte è promettente, con una narrazione tesa e asciutta, con lui tormentato dai ricordi e con la suocera che confessa in un diario di parlare quotidianamente con la figlia - piuttosto seccata e inacidita dal fatto di essere morta – e, non approvando la nuova relazione dell’ex genero, comincia a sorvegliare Susan…Si preannuncerebbe una sorta di thriller psicologico dagli sviluppi imprevedibili e invece no. Andrew prima intervista una autrice teatrale tanto famosa quanto polemica, poi assiste alle prove della sua ultima piece, ovviamente incentrata sul tema della morte, con una serie di monologhi di persone che raccontano e lamentano la loro dipartita in una sorta di “Spoon river” molto sarcastico (però una cinquantina di pagine sono troppe). “La morte ci tira due brutti scherzi: prima la morte fisica e poi la morte vera, quando veniamo dimenticati”, afferma l’autrice con molto realismo, il destino dei più è quello di essere dimenticati entro un paio di generazioni, l’oblio ci attende, chi rimane tende a dimenticare per spirito di sopravvivenza…Peccato, perché mi ha soddisfatto a metà, lasciandomi un pizzico deluso (e non è bastato il finale a farmi ricredere). Forse voleva scrivere un romanzo / saggio, dove le vicende personali sono occasione per digressioni di carattere più generale. Riesce comunque ad affrontare temi come la morte e l’oblio senza cadere nel lacrimoso o nel melodrammatico e per questo tre stelle di sufficienza.
I was a little cautious about this book because I did something I almost never do, I read some of the reviews.
Having finished the book and thought about it for a few days I completely understand why some people would have issues with it but I can honestly say that I found it rather thought provoking.
Death is always a challenging subject and always has many different ways of being interpreted. I think that the idea of oblivion in this book is very interesting. I mean do you actually remember the name and face of your ancestors that died in the War of the Roses? The little people who fought and died on the front lines were and are incredibly important but they are always forgotten in a generation while the Kings, Queens, and generals live on.
all'inizio pensavo che il parlare del dolore dovuto alla morte della consorte, qui, in questo libro fosse fatto in maniera molto migliore rispetto a quell'ammasso di banalità che ho letto nel libro di Lewis (Diario di un dolore), ma poi... gli "OT" aggiunti tra le pagine (il diario della madre, le lettere, l'intervista con la scrittrice di teatro e tutto il resoconto sullo spettacolo etc etc) non mi fa più capire quale sia lo scopo ultimo del libro. Confusion, this is [this book's] epitaph
“La vita è un monologo, non vi pare? Tutti a strillare “la mia storia, ascolta la mia storia”. Ma l’abbiamo già sentita, angelo mio. Lo sapevi che esistono solo quattro temperamenti: melanconico, bilioso, flemmatico e sanguigno? Hai un assoluto bisogno di trovare la tua collocazione? Aspiriamo all’individualità e aspiriamo ad appartenere a un gruppo, un gruppo qualsiasi. Una bella contraddizione per un io individuale, non trovi?”
<< I began to wonder whether literature is not in fact as much an opiate as religion. Lives examined and explained, matters resolved or particular meaning found in the lack of resolution. The reality is; we witness little; people drift in and out of our lives; much is only overheard; and setting our lands in order is no more than a valiant act of defiance. >>
This book had been on my shelves for a very long time, and I thought, “It’s short. A quick read and I can move it on. I quite enjoyed Damage as a movie.” It made me thankful that we’re well past 1995. It also made me thankful that it was short. My mum would have summed it up with “too clever by half.”
[0.75] okay so. it was promising at first. even the ending had me a tiny bit interested like i was in the beginning. but the whole entirety of the middle of the book was long, boring, and confusing. who cares about this random play????? i was here for andrews story about coping with a loved ones death, and then suddenly page after page i found myself yawning, waiting for the end to near.
It feels like a problem when the story within the story is more important than the story. Particularly when neither are interesting. It felt as if the author is using the success of her previous novels to publish her college playwriting class final assignment for all to read.
The play could have been cut a little shorter, however the concept of a second death is very interesting. The way oblivion is described really reminds me of Coco/ Dia De Los Muertos. I thought Jane & Andrew’s characters were left undeveloped however it was a quick, thought provoking read
Non mi è piaciuto. La storia nel complesso risulta slegata, e alla fine diventa noiosa. Peccato perché il tema è interessante e la traduzione italiana lo rende scorrevole, ma nonostante tutto non sono riuscita a finirlo.
Interesting concept - oblivion. Fate worse than death. When no one remembers you. I wish the author had stuck to her characters rather than getting bogged down with the play within the story.
When I chose this book to read, I expected to end up being a sobbing mess. But towards the middle of the book, I got lost and confused. Thoughts were all mixed up. I couldn't understand who was thinking or saying. Or what was being read. Also, there were references being made from the playwright's works, which i assumed were all fictional but just added to my confusion. Then, random names started popping up, making new characters. It took me a while to understand all of this was actually the playwright's play. Due to all of this, I had to forced myself to continue to read. The last chapter I started to enjoyed again due to, getting back to the first point of view again and the references made to Heathcliff and Jane Eyre. These helped me connect and understand somewhat what pain the widower was going through. In conclusion, I think perhaps, I wasnt able to connect with the book because I have never experience a great loss. Every word just felt random and confusing for me.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I picked up this book because I had previously read Damage by Josephine Hart and so I figured, well, this one has to be good too!
And it's not so much that Oblivion is bad, but it's just not very good. Haha. Okay but really, the prose and imagery that I had enjoyed so much with Damage felt so forced and pretentious in this book. I felt like literary devices were being shoved down my throat with the turn of every page.
I mean, I guess if you like pointless prose that never seems to reach any kind of conclusion, then you should read this book. I gave up half way through and left the book on the airplane, so I guess that gives you a pretty good idea of how much I enjoyed it.
So this is ultimately a story revolved around a man who loses his wife and he contemplates serious topics such as life and death, and moving on sexually and emotionally with another woman. It also gives us chapters on the point of view of his ex-in-laws. This book was not as great as I was hoping it would be. The entire book reads in a way, like a poem and not because it rhymes but because every sentence seems to have a double meaning. Don't get me wrong, there are some great quotes in this story but the majority of it goes TOO in-depth and too complex for me. The entire chapter 8 takes up 50% of the book and it's so long and boring which probably is what made me not like the book as much. Not horrible, but it was a fairly quick read.
This was really bad. It’d be zero stars except for the one star value of being prompted to contemplate voyeurism in a pre-Internet time. She’s not really doing anything weird by today’s standards, which is, well, weird.
It was self conscious, I felt like the author was watching me reading it. The descriptions of her parents were highly realistic and well written, though.