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Ich bin Mary Dunne
A beautitul woman in her early thirties, Mary Lavery, nee Dunne lives in New York and is happily married to a much feted British playing playwright. But before this there have been other lives, two previous husbands, and a Catholic girlhood filled with suppressed passion. A brief encounter with an old friend brings back a sudden flood of memories from the past - memories which confuse and disturb...
Female desire and sexuality, and the elusive nature of identity are brilliantly explored in this novel which glimmers with insight and truth.
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First published January 1, 1968
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About the author
Brian Moore
160 books169 followersBrian Moore (1921–1999) was born into a large, devoutly Catholic family in Belfast, Northern Ireland. His father was a surgeon and lecturer, and his mother had been a nurse. Moore left Ireland during World War II and in 1948 moved to Canada, where he worked for the Montreal Gazette, married his first wife, and began to write potboilers under various pen names, as he would continue to do throughout the 1950s.
The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne (1955, now available as an NYRB Classic), said to have been rejected by a dozen publishers, was the first book Moore published under his own name, and it was followed by nineteen subsequent novels written in a broad range of modes and styles, from the realistic to the historical to the quasi-fantastical, including The Luck of Ginger Coffey, An Answer from Limbo, The Emperor of Ice Cream, I Am Mary Dunne, Catholics, Black Robe, and The Statement. Three novels—Lies of Silence, The Colour of Blood, and The Magician’s Wife—were short-listed for the Booker Prize, and The Great Victorian Collection won the James Tait Black Memorial Prize.
After adapting The Luck of Ginger Coffey for film in 1964, Moore moved to California to work on the script for Alfred Hitchcock’s Torn Curtain. He remained in Malibu for the rest of his life, remarrying there and teaching at UCLA for some fifteen years. Shortly before his death, Moore wrote, “There are those stateless wanderers who, finding the larger world into which they have stumbled vast, varied and exciting, become confused in their loyalties and lose their sense of home. I am one of those wanderers.”
The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne (1955, now available as an NYRB Classic), said to have been rejected by a dozen publishers, was the first book Moore published under his own name, and it was followed by nineteen subsequent novels written in a broad range of modes and styles, from the realistic to the historical to the quasi-fantastical, including The Luck of Ginger Coffey, An Answer from Limbo, The Emperor of Ice Cream, I Am Mary Dunne, Catholics, Black Robe, and The Statement. Three novels—Lies of Silence, The Colour of Blood, and The Magician’s Wife—were short-listed for the Booker Prize, and The Great Victorian Collection won the James Tait Black Memorial Prize.
After adapting The Luck of Ginger Coffey for film in 1964, Moore moved to California to work on the script for Alfred Hitchcock’s Torn Curtain. He remained in Malibu for the rest of his life, remarrying there and teaching at UCLA for some fifteen years. Shortly before his death, Moore wrote, “There are those stateless wanderers who, finding the larger world into which they have stumbled vast, varied and exciting, become confused in their loyalties and lose their sense of home. I am one of those wanderers.”
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 34 reviews
February 19, 2015
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 18, 2015
I read this book when I was very young, either teen or early twenties. I found Mary's identity problems because of the different last names she had had infantile and her PMS problems contrived. Clearly the author was a male. It's impressive that I remember being annoyed after almost 20 years. This book portrayed a woman that was everything I did not want to be. And after several husbands I can with confidence say I never had any identity issues for that reason. My last name does not define me. It shouldn't have done so for you either, Mary Dunne.
April 30, 2021
I absolutely loved this book. I read both negative and lukewarm reviews which almost convinced me to skip it. I decided to give it 10 pages - if I lost interest before then I'd shelve it, but I was hooked after 5. Please, NYRB (!!!), republish this with a beautiful cover like you did 'The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne'.
I can safely say I found the writing and characterization spot on, and though Mary's "mad twin" was mentioned a bit more than I would have liked (and I can understand why some see it contrived or mansplain-ey), it didn't distract me or take me out of the novel. Mary's fear, doubt, irritability, mania, distaste, (severe) anxiety, guilt, repression - she's not a likable character by any means, but I found her fascinating, real (every character in the book could be someone I know - I even saw some of myself in Mary, and I'm a guy) and so, so readable. I also think the different sides of her personality, the inner and outer monologue, were wound together perfectly. I didn't love every character, but every character was fully realized and three dimensional. Even the ones I hated, I loved to hate.
I think Mary has severe anxiety (in addition to other mental issues) - and maybe I'm just projecting since I, too, suffer from anxiety - how one little incident (like forgetting your name briefly) can set off a domino effect of endless, exaggerated and paranoid thoughts. How you sort of lose yourself, or the idea of who you are, that derealisation of, "What am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to be thinking?" And the fear of going insane. Except she actually is going insane. The whole book is her "down tilt". I don't see her having these identity problems BECAUSE of her different last names, it's not that literal. Her different last names are how she mentally categorized each chunk, each stage of her life - she wasn't defined by who she was married to, but who she was and what she was when she had that last name. The years she had it. It's all in this paragraph:
"Not knowing is the worst, it is those other things I do not know, like the name and the face of the woman who was in bed with my father the afternoon he died, it is those things I will never know, they are what frighten me, and it is because of them that I can no longer find my way back to the Mary Dunne I was in my schooldays, to that Mary Phelan who giggled and wept in the Blodgett's bed-sitter, or to that girl who laughed long ago in a winter street when Hat cried, "Mange la merge," when such things were funny, and I was Mary Bell. I will not even be able to go back to today when I am Mary Lavery, for today was a warning, a beginning, I mean forgetting my name, it was like forgetting my name that day, long ago, Juarez, I will forget again, I will forget more often, it will happen to me every day and perhaps every hour, and as I sat on my bed and thought of that, the dooms came down, the Juarez dooms."
That paragraph is one of the many reasons I loved this devastatingly honest novel. I can't imagine those who loved Judith Hearne not loving this one.
I can safely say I found the writing and characterization spot on, and though Mary's "mad twin" was mentioned a bit more than I would have liked (and I can understand why some see it contrived or mansplain-ey), it didn't distract me or take me out of the novel. Mary's fear, doubt, irritability, mania, distaste, (severe) anxiety, guilt, repression - she's not a likable character by any means, but I found her fascinating, real (every character in the book could be someone I know - I even saw some of myself in Mary, and I'm a guy) and so, so readable. I also think the different sides of her personality, the inner and outer monologue, were wound together perfectly. I didn't love every character, but every character was fully realized and three dimensional. Even the ones I hated, I loved to hate.
I think Mary has severe anxiety (in addition to other mental issues) - and maybe I'm just projecting since I, too, suffer from anxiety - how one little incident (like forgetting your name briefly) can set off a domino effect of endless, exaggerated and paranoid thoughts. How you sort of lose yourself, or the idea of who you are, that derealisation of, "What am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to be thinking?" And the fear of going insane. Except she actually is going insane. The whole book is her "down tilt". I don't see her having these identity problems BECAUSE of her different last names, it's not that literal. Her different last names are how she mentally categorized each chunk, each stage of her life - she wasn't defined by who she was married to, but who she was and what she was when she had that last name. The years she had it. It's all in this paragraph:
"Not knowing is the worst, it is those other things I do not know, like the name and the face of the woman who was in bed with my father the afternoon he died, it is those things I will never know, they are what frighten me, and it is because of them that I can no longer find my way back to the Mary Dunne I was in my schooldays, to that Mary Phelan who giggled and wept in the Blodgett's bed-sitter, or to that girl who laughed long ago in a winter street when Hat cried, "Mange la merge," when such things were funny, and I was Mary Bell. I will not even be able to go back to today when I am Mary Lavery, for today was a warning, a beginning, I mean forgetting my name, it was like forgetting my name that day, long ago, Juarez, I will forget again, I will forget more often, it will happen to me every day and perhaps every hour, and as I sat on my bed and thought of that, the dooms came down, the Juarez dooms."
That paragraph is one of the many reasons I loved this devastatingly honest novel. I can't imagine those who loved Judith Hearne not loving this one.
April 30, 2018
I thought this novel (my first by Moore) was excellent, with one exception: as the novel progressed, Moore increasingly turned Mary's internal monologue into a frame for flashbacks, losing the monologue’s power that was built up earlier in the novel. The past can be part of the present, but not for such long periods of time. Everything doesn’t have to be explained or given a background or cause. Moore should have done less.
November 5, 2017
I am Mary Dunne covers a single day in the life of Mary Lavery, née Dunne, ex-Mary Bell, ex-Mary Phelan. She's currently married to her third husband but can't help remembering events from the past even though she has trouble with her memory. Brian Moore is a new favourite author of mine but I was a little wary of this one at the beginning as he adopts a first-person narrative where we are dropped straight in to the confusion that is Mary's life; but Moore handles it really well and although it takes a little while to work out which husband is which and who all the other people are in Mary's life Moore slowly reveals the details so that we can begin to make sense of her life. Within the first few pages of the book Mary recounts her morning visit to a beauty salon where the receptionist forgot Mary's name but when she asked Mary for it Mary's mind went blank until she gave her name as Mrs Phelan, her name from her first marriage. Then upon leaving the salon she was stopped in the street by a smiling man, a stranger, who said 'I'd like to fuck you, baby' and then walked off leaving Mary stunned then angry. It's not a great start to the day.
Mary is currently living in New York but she's originally from Montreal, Canada. Her current husband is Terence Lavery, a British playwright, and as the novel unfolds it seems that she's finally settled on a man whom she truly loves and who loves her. But she always feels that she's playing a part; with each husband she has had to act differently.
During the novel we find out more about Mary's past, her family and her previous jobs but the stand-out scenes for me are the two times throughout the day when she meets up with old friends. First she meets up with her old friend from Montreal, Janice Sloane, who's in New York for a few days. This lunch scene is very amusing, right from the start there's a mix up over the restaurant they're going to. Throughout the lunch they end up revealing things about each other that are surprising and hurtful. They talk, then argue then make up. The second scene is at the end when she gets a phone-call from an old friend, or rather an old friend of her second husband, who wants to meet up with her. His name is Ernest Truelove (is Moore trying to signal something here?) and he has dinner at the Lavery's apartment, gets increasingly drunk, makes some startling revelations and makes a complete ass of himself. Moore's characterisation is brilliant here as although Ernest appears at first to be an obnoxious caricature, introduced for comic effect, he gradually becomes more realistic and, although he's still a ridiculous character at the end, we begin to empathise with him. Here's a quote from a section from the end of the novel, after Ernest has told his story.
I am Mary Dunne is another great novel by Moore. I have also read The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne and The Feast of Lupercal which were both excellent novels.
This was read as part of the 1968Club challenge.
Mary is currently living in New York but she's originally from Montreal, Canada. Her current husband is Terence Lavery, a British playwright, and as the novel unfolds it seems that she's finally settled on a man whom she truly loves and who loves her. But she always feels that she's playing a part; with each husband she has had to act differently.
I play an ingénue role, with special shadings demanded by each suitor. For Jimmy I had to be a tomboy; for Hat, I must look like a model; he admired elegance. Terence wants to see me as Irish: sulky, laughing, wild. And me, how do I see me, who is that me I create in mirrors, the dressing-table me, the self I cannot put a name to in the Golden Door Beauty Salon?She doesn't quite know who she is. With each husband she feels that she has to be different. Even when she changes jobs she feels that her identify has to be detroyed and re-created. She feels that she is split into three Selfs: Sensible Self, My Buddy and Mad Twin. On the day of the novel she is mostly possessed by her Mad Twin self. And she's a bit of a blabbermouth, she says things before thinking through the consequences.
I am, always have been, a fool who rushes in, a blurter-out of awkward truths, a speaker-up at parties who, the morning after, filled with guilt, vows that never again, no matter what, but who, faced at the very next encounter with someone whose opinions strike me as unfair, rushes in again, blurting out, breaking all vows.This confession comes when she's relating a visit from an old gent who is looking to rent the flat while she and her husband are going to be away. She notices that his clothes are a little shabby and recognises him vaguely from somewhere and more or less accuses him of casing the joint. Emabarrased, he tries to leave, but Mary (Mad Twin Mary), realises that she's made a mistake, chases after him to try to apologise even though it's too late. It turns out that he's lonely and just likes looking around rich people's flats and meeting people.
During the novel we find out more about Mary's past, her family and her previous jobs but the stand-out scenes for me are the two times throughout the day when she meets up with old friends. First she meets up with her old friend from Montreal, Janice Sloane, who's in New York for a few days. This lunch scene is very amusing, right from the start there's a mix up over the restaurant they're going to. Throughout the lunch they end up revealing things about each other that are surprising and hurtful. They talk, then argue then make up. The second scene is at the end when she gets a phone-call from an old friend, or rather an old friend of her second husband, who wants to meet up with her. His name is Ernest Truelove (is Moore trying to signal something here?) and he has dinner at the Lavery's apartment, gets increasingly drunk, makes some startling revelations and makes a complete ass of himself. Moore's characterisation is brilliant here as although Ernest appears at first to be an obnoxious caricature, introduced for comic effect, he gradually becomes more realistic and, although he's still a ridiculous character at the end, we begin to empathise with him. Here's a quote from a section from the end of the novel, after Ernest has told his story.
There, in the dining-room, amid the wreck of dinner glasses, dishes, wine bottles, there settled on all three of us an instant of total immobility, as though the film of our lives had jammed. We sat, frozen in stop frame, until, suddenly, Ernie's head jerked forward and he turned to me, his face screwed up in a painful parody of a boy's embarrassed grin. 'Yes,' he said. 'I guess I have finished. Eh, Maria? Golly, I've gone and done it again. Made a fool of myself, imposed on people's kindness, irritated the people I most want to be friends with. You and Terence. Golly.'
Having castigated himself, he, like all those people who are quick to apologize, considered himself at once forgiven. He grinned again and said, 'What a horse's ass I am. I'll bet that's what you're thinking?'
I am Mary Dunne is another great novel by Moore. I have also read The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne and The Feast of Lupercal which were both excellent novels.
This was read as part of the 1968Club challenge.
December 21, 2014
Probably more of a 3.5 star than 3 star for me.
This is the fifth or sixth novel of Moore's that I've read, but the first that isn't set in N Ireland. Published in 1968, the book is a first person narrative told by Mary Lavery, a 32 year old Canadian living in New York with her third husband Terence, a successful British playwright. While the 'present' consists of a single day, during which Mary constantly refers to her 'evil twin' (PMT issues), a series of encounters-a hairdressing appointment, a lecherous encounter with a stranger in the street, lunch with an 'old friend' and a disastrous dinner with a friend of her second husband, force her to retell the stories of her past marriages and confront the demons associated with them.
Moore is known for his empathetic portrayal of female characters, and this one is another that he has been praised for creating; my problem was that I just didn't warm to her. She is possibly on the verge of a breakdown, but as she looks back upon her life, I had little sympathy for her because of the way she had treated some of her ex partners. And as was the case in The Doctor's Wife, I felt a little uncomfortable when reading the pretty graphic sex scenes.
All in all, a novel that, while critically acclaimed, didn't stand out for me in comparison to the others of his that I've read.
This is the fifth or sixth novel of Moore's that I've read, but the first that isn't set in N Ireland. Published in 1968, the book is a first person narrative told by Mary Lavery, a 32 year old Canadian living in New York with her third husband Terence, a successful British playwright. While the 'present' consists of a single day, during which Mary constantly refers to her 'evil twin' (PMT issues), a series of encounters-a hairdressing appointment, a lecherous encounter with a stranger in the street, lunch with an 'old friend' and a disastrous dinner with a friend of her second husband, force her to retell the stories of her past marriages and confront the demons associated with them.
Moore is known for his empathetic portrayal of female characters, and this one is another that he has been praised for creating; my problem was that I just didn't warm to her. She is possibly on the verge of a breakdown, but as she looks back upon her life, I had little sympathy for her because of the way she had treated some of her ex partners. And as was the case in The Doctor's Wife, I felt a little uncomfortable when reading the pretty graphic sex scenes.
All in all, a novel that, while critically acclaimed, didn't stand out for me in comparison to the others of his that I've read.
June 9, 2024
Really boring. We have to follow this woman around for a whole day as she remembers people from the past, all for no good reason. Doesn't explain anything, we don't gain any insight into her character and neither does she.
May 26, 2011
Beautifully depressing. What a gifted writer, Mr Moore was....
April 21, 2017
A difficult read that has an almost claustrophobic aspect. It's difficult to understand if the principle character is on the edge of some kind of major breakdown or it is in fact just PMT as she thinks. It was difficult to warm to Mary because of the way she had treated others in the past but I really felt the confusion and anxiety she experienced as the story unfolds. Not sure what I expected from the ending but for me the story felt a little unfinished. I don't think this story is for everyone but I enjoyed it overall.
January 10, 2023
This is my first book by this author. It was previously owned by my mother and was in my inherited library. I didn't care for it. The language was shocking for 1966, but I understand Brian Moore was known for that. That didn't bother me, but the plot was thin (if there was one at all), and the ramblings of Mary-Maria-Mutt were nonsensical and hard to follow. I couldn't figure out if the protagonist had mental problems or if the author was saying that all women who marry multiple times and enjoy sex are airheads. Not sure, and not sure I care.
August 26, 2011
The main character has more than PMS. I beleive it crossed the line into premenstural phycosis... I felt almost as strung out as she when I finished the book. The central theme appeared to be identity crises, but mental illness was always lurking about waiting to engulf Mary. I found Moore's view of women often times seemed very stilted. Not a good read. It left me feeling almost a neurotic as the heroine... ick!
March 26, 2011
I really couldn't get into this book. Mary Dunne seems to be floundering in New York, working on her third marriage and can't get a grip on her life. She seems to have three personalities inhabiting her body who are at war with each other. It got tedious after a while trying to keep track of them
June 26, 2008
I'm not normally one for introspectively-written character pieces, especially of women written by men, but Moore does a wonderful job with Dunne. My masters thesis was on this and the final chapter of Joyce's Ulysses on Molly Bloom.
March 3, 2013
Mind crushing: a perfect depiction of mania and paranoia. Only read if feeling emotionally robust. Having said all that, totally brilliant.
April 29, 2016
Loved this - it really gets inside the mind of a very specific kind of woman. And why she is the way she is. Written more than 40 years ago, it doesn't feel dated. Highly recommended.
January 30, 2021
Wow. I think this might be even better than Judith Hearne. Amazing writing. I loved it.
January 7, 2019
Brian Moore may be well-known among the literati. He is one of my favorite writers of serious fiction; however, I seldom see his name commented upon when I read about such writers. Maybe I am just out of the loop. After all, he had been shortlisted for the Booker Prize three times before his death in 1999.
A common denominator of his books that I have read is how he combines past and present of his characters in an almost dream-like narrative as they work through their “normal” lives. It is as if the characters live simultaneously in two worlds.
I AM MARY DUNNE, published in 1968, is a powerful example.
Moore impressively writes believably from the perspective of a woman. His use of details, which were contemporary when the books was written, but now have a feeling of historicity, provide even more insight into the main character and in so doing of the world that women had to navigate.
I was in eighth grade when the book was originally published. THE FEMININE MYSTIQUE was only a few years old and the “women’s liberation” movement was just getting started. That is, much of what we as a society accept these days was still in the future. For many women, hopes, aspirations, even self-identities were no doubt repressed. And, as most of us are aware, needs and emotions that are bottled up will eventually find release, often in negative, or even (self-)destructive ways.
For Mary Dunne, the release seems to be what once might have been called a nervous breakdown, which is symbolized by her name. What is her name? She had been married multiple times, each time changing her name. In each marriage she seems to have buried her own desires and made herself into a different woman for each man. This is shown in a series of internal monologues and flashbacks in her life.
At one point, for example, she thinks:
“What was my name that afternoon in the Plaza San Jacinto? I asked myself, but did not know. Was I now Phelan, no, couldn’t be that, I was divorced from Jimmy, I had to be Mary Dunne, but would I be called that or would I still be called Bell until I remarried and became Mary Lavery? …I couldn’t remember my name… I ran and then stopped… and it came back into my mind, l am Mary Dunne. I said it over and over. I am Mary Dunne, it’s all right, I am Mary Dunne. But somehow it was not true any more and in the bus that afternoon going back to the airport, to the plane which would take me to New York and to Terence, I remember thinking for the first time what I have thought many times since. I am no longer Mary Dunne, or Mary Phelan, or Mary Bell, or even Mary Lavery. I am a changeling who has changed too often and there are moments when I cannot find my way back.”
All this happens in the space of a fairly normal day: Phone calls, lunch, errands. We feel with her confusion of memories, false memories, guilt, doubts, and depression so bad that at times she does not even remember her current name.
Woman or man, haven’t we all had such days? When we have tried to lead lives false to us, trying to convince us of its truth, and we wonder who we are and how we came to be at a place where we are strangers to ourselves?
In the words of Mary Dunne, “And in that moment I wondered what sort of woman they must think me to be and then began to wonder myself.”
A common denominator of his books that I have read is how he combines past and present of his characters in an almost dream-like narrative as they work through their “normal” lives. It is as if the characters live simultaneously in two worlds.
I AM MARY DUNNE, published in 1968, is a powerful example.
Moore impressively writes believably from the perspective of a woman. His use of details, which were contemporary when the books was written, but now have a feeling of historicity, provide even more insight into the main character and in so doing of the world that women had to navigate.
I was in eighth grade when the book was originally published. THE FEMININE MYSTIQUE was only a few years old and the “women’s liberation” movement was just getting started. That is, much of what we as a society accept these days was still in the future. For many women, hopes, aspirations, even self-identities were no doubt repressed. And, as most of us are aware, needs and emotions that are bottled up will eventually find release, often in negative, or even (self-)destructive ways.
For Mary Dunne, the release seems to be what once might have been called a nervous breakdown, which is symbolized by her name. What is her name? She had been married multiple times, each time changing her name. In each marriage she seems to have buried her own desires and made herself into a different woman for each man. This is shown in a series of internal monologues and flashbacks in her life.
At one point, for example, she thinks:
“What was my name that afternoon in the Plaza San Jacinto? I asked myself, but did not know. Was I now Phelan, no, couldn’t be that, I was divorced from Jimmy, I had to be Mary Dunne, but would I be called that or would I still be called Bell until I remarried and became Mary Lavery? …I couldn’t remember my name… I ran and then stopped… and it came back into my mind, l am Mary Dunne. I said it over and over. I am Mary Dunne, it’s all right, I am Mary Dunne. But somehow it was not true any more and in the bus that afternoon going back to the airport, to the plane which would take me to New York and to Terence, I remember thinking for the first time what I have thought many times since. I am no longer Mary Dunne, or Mary Phelan, or Mary Bell, or even Mary Lavery. I am a changeling who has changed too often and there are moments when I cannot find my way back.”
All this happens in the space of a fairly normal day: Phone calls, lunch, errands. We feel with her confusion of memories, false memories, guilt, doubts, and depression so bad that at times she does not even remember her current name.
Woman or man, haven’t we all had such days? When we have tried to lead lives false to us, trying to convince us of its truth, and we wonder who we are and how we came to be at a place where we are strangers to ourselves?
In the words of Mary Dunne, “And in that moment I wondered what sort of woman they must think me to be and then began to wonder myself.”
November 7, 2023
Mary Dunne ist endlich angekommen. Sie lebt in New York, ist in dritter Ehe glücklich verheiratet und erfährt die gesellschaftliche Anerkennung, nach der sie sich lange gesehnt hat. Trotzdem ist sie nicht zufrieden. Sie hat das Gefühl, das in ihrem Leben etwas fehlt, aber was genau das ist, kann sie nicht sagen.
Brian Moore beginnt Marys Geschichte in einer alltäglichen, aber trotzdem ungewöhnlichen Situation. Bei ihrem Besuch beim Friseur ist Mary mit ihren vielen unterschiedlichen Nachnamen durcheinander gekommen. Diese kleine Begebenheit verwirrt sie so, dass sie sich immer wieder wie ein Mantra vorsagen muss, wer sie ist, nämlich Mary Dunne. Daran hält sie sich fest, während ihr Alltag sie zu verschlingen droht.
Ich war mir über weite Strecken der Lektüre nicht sicher, wie ich Mary einschätzen sollte. Sie ist so unsicher, dass es mir fast weh getan hat. Jede kleine Begebenheit zerpflückt sie danach, ob sie sich richtig verhalten oder ob sie unabsichtlich womöglich jemanden gekränkt hat. Gleichzeitig wirkt sie aber auch oberflächlich und sehnt sich nach Dingen, die sie ihrer Meinung nach braucht, um in der Gesellschaft zu bestehen. In ihrer Unsicherheit beobachtet sie die Menschen in ihrer Umgebung sehr genau und ist geradezu schadenfroh, wenn sich jemand in ihren Augen unpassend verhält oder gar blamiert, weil sie das in ihren Augen besser dastehen lässt.
Mir ist die Lektüre über weite Strecken schwer gefallen. Marys Leben bestand gefühlt nur aus Oberflächlichkeiten und Gedankenspielen. Wenn sie mit anderen Personen interagierte, war sie stellenweise so unsicher, dass sich ihr Verhalten während einer Unterhaltung um 180Grad zu drehen schien. Der Autor enthüllt erst spät, was hinter alldem steckt. Aber selbst dann ist es mir schwer gefallen Sympathie oder auch nur Verständnis für Mary zu empfinden. Dabei ist ihre Geschichte durchaus interessant, aber ihr Charakter hat es mir schwer gemacht, dieses Interesse aufzubringen und ich habe stellenweise auch quergelesen, wenn sich Mary wieder einmal in ihren (zu) vielen Kleinigkeiten verzettelt hat.
Brian Moore beginnt Marys Geschichte in einer alltäglichen, aber trotzdem ungewöhnlichen Situation. Bei ihrem Besuch beim Friseur ist Mary mit ihren vielen unterschiedlichen Nachnamen durcheinander gekommen. Diese kleine Begebenheit verwirrt sie so, dass sie sich immer wieder wie ein Mantra vorsagen muss, wer sie ist, nämlich Mary Dunne. Daran hält sie sich fest, während ihr Alltag sie zu verschlingen droht.
Ich war mir über weite Strecken der Lektüre nicht sicher, wie ich Mary einschätzen sollte. Sie ist so unsicher, dass es mir fast weh getan hat. Jede kleine Begebenheit zerpflückt sie danach, ob sie sich richtig verhalten oder ob sie unabsichtlich womöglich jemanden gekränkt hat. Gleichzeitig wirkt sie aber auch oberflächlich und sehnt sich nach Dingen, die sie ihrer Meinung nach braucht, um in der Gesellschaft zu bestehen. In ihrer Unsicherheit beobachtet sie die Menschen in ihrer Umgebung sehr genau und ist geradezu schadenfroh, wenn sich jemand in ihren Augen unpassend verhält oder gar blamiert, weil sie das in ihren Augen besser dastehen lässt.
Mir ist die Lektüre über weite Strecken schwer gefallen. Marys Leben bestand gefühlt nur aus Oberflächlichkeiten und Gedankenspielen. Wenn sie mit anderen Personen interagierte, war sie stellenweise so unsicher, dass sich ihr Verhalten während einer Unterhaltung um 180Grad zu drehen schien. Der Autor enthüllt erst spät, was hinter alldem steckt. Aber selbst dann ist es mir schwer gefallen Sympathie oder auch nur Verständnis für Mary zu empfinden. Dabei ist ihre Geschichte durchaus interessant, aber ihr Charakter hat es mir schwer gemacht, dieses Interesse aufzubringen und ich habe stellenweise auch quergelesen, wenn sich Mary wieder einmal in ihren (zu) vielen Kleinigkeiten verzettelt hat.
October 14, 2022
Disappointed by this book. I'm a big Brian Moore fan, usually, and kind of thought this would be along the lines of The Luck of Ginger Coffey or The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne. It wasn't. It felt very dated - I know the world has changed a lot since the late '60s, but I just couldn't relate to the character, or rather, to the characters. Hat, the hard-drinking journalist, really felt like a cliché. And there just wasn't much to Mary to make her an interesting character. I get the Moore was making a comment about how much her identity depended on the men that was with, but it just ultimately didn't connect with me in any way.
April 30, 2023
Another Brian Moore book. Kudos to the reviewer who noted that this book mirrors the spirit of the Molly Bloom chapter of Ulysses in interesting ways. I did not love this book and at times wanted to put it down / away - not finish it- maybe due to its driftingness... just acres and pages full of wandering associations and recollections. but- i also wanted to hang on to see what was going to happen to poor mary. i didn't like her evident frequent heartlessness, but i sort of took that as my own queasiness because maybe she could have been nicer, but then i respected the honesty of it. I was a bit uncomfortable with the so deeply intimate self-portrayal of this woman (by the male author), but .... ok. I maybe especially valued the unstated, but clearly played sense of guilt from Mary about leaving her husband. Yes, maybe she should have done that, but clearly she is pained by that daily... and his subsequent death (suicide?).
November 16, 2023
I have long been a fan of Moore's novels and have read all 20 of them. (though not the "potboilers" he published under other names. Has anyone reading this done so?) In retrospect, I think his first 6 are his best ; this novel is his 6th. I found his first person narration, from the protagonist's pov, quite compelling, and agree with one commentator here that his best scenes are the encounters with Janice and then Earnest. I did wonder how a female reader would react to his appropriation of a female voice and about her frequent mentions of her premenstrual problems.
November 21, 2023
Hard to understand how a book this brilliant could fly so under the radar. I think the title might be part of the problem, same as with Judith Hearne. There are so many impressive things about Brian Moore’s novels, but I think the most amazing aspect is how different every single one of his books is - not the characters or subject matter, but the writing itself. The man was a marvel!
October 2, 2024
I read another of more books years ago, the heartbreaking The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne so I picked this up for that reason and the stunning cover. Another great read from Moore, who really gets inside Dunne’s head.
June 6, 2022
Muy bueno!
February 24, 2024
Oh, so good! I’ll revisit for a review.
April 13, 2024
A superbly written book - Brian Moore was such a fine writer. The interweaving elements of the narrative are handled masterfully. Add half a star.
July 11, 2024
Maybe not his best, but still very good, as always with Moore. I thought the flashbacks worked well in this novel, which is not always the case.
July 15, 2021
Great pace and great writing. One of those perfect 1 or 2 sittings reads on a rainy afternoon.
May 16, 2014
All literary affairs - like all love in general, I suppose - happen at different speeds. Sarah Vowell hit me like a ton of bricks, but Brian Moore came up quietly beside me, gently poking me in the ribs each time I walked into a book store. "Remember Brian Moore?" he says. "Remember how much you liked the last book?" I Am Mary Dunne, written in 1968, is the sixth novel by Mr. Moore that I've read and I'm sorry to say that it's taken this long for me to realize that he and I are definitely having a literary affair. That Mary Dunne has cemented this realization is probably a testament to the book itself, which seems as quiet and unassuming as its title character. The book, like its heroine, is something easily passed by on your way to flashier things. But this would be a mistake, for both are filled with tragedy as heartbreaking as it is quiet.
Like William Trevor's short story, A Day, Mary Dunne takes place over the course of a single day in the life of a housewife. As Mary moves through the day, her mind reels through a haunting internal monologue that takes us through the course of her life, from her convent school days to a series of doomed marriages. There's adultery and hints of substance abuse, making Mary slightly reminiscent of Judith Hearne, another of Mr. Moore's (anti) heroines. In many ways the novel is both a testament to and an attack on the power of sentimentality, which storms through our lives and leads to moments of both beauty and embarrassment.
When it comes to narrators, Mary is as unreliable as they come. Her life is given to us from her point of view, but she herself admits that her memory is not to be trusted. There is an early moment when she forgets her own name. Then there are the numerous drinks she consumes, hinting that she spends most of her day at least slightly drunk (again, this is also reminiscent of "A Day", although since it was written earlier, maybe that should be the other way around). Time and again, we are presented with moments when Mary is challenged by others to recall events that she cannot. The past continues to haunt her, but Mr. Moore suggests it's so much worse when we don't know what the past is, when the ghosts are strangers and we don't always understand what they're trying to say.
Despite the serious undercurrents - by the end, suicide has also entered the picture - Mary Dunne retains a dry wit and her self-awareness leads to an occasionally comical neurosis. Equally impressive is the way Mr. Moore crafts her internal monologue, taking us skillfully between present and past so that we are never lost as to when we are. Here, as in the works of Alice Munroe and the aforementioned Mr. Trevor, time is fluid. We are launched into the stream from the beginning, but Mr. Moore is a worthy captain. Perhaps most engaging is that his novel starts with a thesis - Memento ergo sum, or "I remember, therefore I am" - and then sets out to prove as expertly as any academic. We are a product of our memories, suggests Mary Dunne. When those go, what is left?
Like William Trevor's short story, A Day, Mary Dunne takes place over the course of a single day in the life of a housewife. As Mary moves through the day, her mind reels through a haunting internal monologue that takes us through the course of her life, from her convent school days to a series of doomed marriages. There's adultery and hints of substance abuse, making Mary slightly reminiscent of Judith Hearne, another of Mr. Moore's (anti) heroines. In many ways the novel is both a testament to and an attack on the power of sentimentality, which storms through our lives and leads to moments of both beauty and embarrassment.
When it comes to narrators, Mary is as unreliable as they come. Her life is given to us from her point of view, but she herself admits that her memory is not to be trusted. There is an early moment when she forgets her own name. Then there are the numerous drinks she consumes, hinting that she spends most of her day at least slightly drunk (again, this is also reminiscent of "A Day", although since it was written earlier, maybe that should be the other way around). Time and again, we are presented with moments when Mary is challenged by others to recall events that she cannot. The past continues to haunt her, but Mr. Moore suggests it's so much worse when we don't know what the past is, when the ghosts are strangers and we don't always understand what they're trying to say.
Despite the serious undercurrents - by the end, suicide has also entered the picture - Mary Dunne retains a dry wit and her self-awareness leads to an occasionally comical neurosis. Equally impressive is the way Mr. Moore crafts her internal monologue, taking us skillfully between present and past so that we are never lost as to when we are. Here, as in the works of Alice Munroe and the aforementioned Mr. Trevor, time is fluid. We are launched into the stream from the beginning, but Mr. Moore is a worthy captain. Perhaps most engaging is that his novel starts with a thesis - Memento ergo sum, or "I remember, therefore I am" - and then sets out to prove as expertly as any academic. We are a product of our memories, suggests Mary Dunne. When those go, what is left?
February 2, 2024
SUMMARY - When it comes to Moore, I am not done.
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My phone today me an algorithmic nudge towards a dozen of the Booker Prize's most gripping reads. Out of scores of possible selections, Moore's 'Lies of Silence' (1990) quite justifiably sat amid the dozen, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with other gripping yet slim offerings such as Muriel Spark's 'The Driver's Seat' (1970). Mary Dunne belongs to the generation of Spark's offering, but what is remarkable is that the taut energy remained throughout Moore's writing from the 1950s and 1960s right through to the 1990s.
'I am Mary Dunne' combines the pulse-quickened claustrophobic tragi-thriller panic that characterises many of Moore's books ('An Answer from Limbo', 'The Revolution Script') with the more softly tragic female introspection that made his name with 'The Lonely Passion of Miss Judith Hearne'. There isn't the same chase through the external world you get elsewhere in Moore; this is replaced instead by a fearful clench from within of incipient insanity. Moore is an artful writer, doing the difficult work that makes this easy and compelling reading.
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My phone today me an algorithmic nudge towards a dozen of the Booker Prize's most gripping reads. Out of scores of possible selections, Moore's 'Lies of Silence' (1990) quite justifiably sat amid the dozen, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with other gripping yet slim offerings such as Muriel Spark's 'The Driver's Seat' (1970). Mary Dunne belongs to the generation of Spark's offering, but what is remarkable is that the taut energy remained throughout Moore's writing from the 1950s and 1960s right through to the 1990s.
'I am Mary Dunne' combines the pulse-quickened claustrophobic tragi-thriller panic that characterises many of Moore's books ('An Answer from Limbo', 'The Revolution Script') with the more softly tragic female introspection that made his name with 'The Lonely Passion of Miss Judith Hearne'. There isn't the same chase through the external world you get elsewhere in Moore; this is replaced instead by a fearful clench from within of incipient insanity. Moore is an artful writer, doing the difficult work that makes this easy and compelling reading.
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