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Cassandra at the Wedding
Cassandra Edwards is a graduate student at Berkeley: gay, brilliant, nerve-racked, miserable. At the beginning of this novel, she drives back to her family ranch in the foothills of the Sierras to attend the wedding of her identical twin, Judith, to a nice young doctor from Connecticut. Cassandra, however, is hell-bent on sabotaging the wedding.
Dorothy Baker's entrancing tragicomic novella follows an unpredictable course of events in which her heroine appears variously as conniving, self-aware, pitiful, frenzied, absurd, and heartbroken--at once utterly impossible and tremendously sympathetic. As she struggles to come to terms with the only life she has, Cassandra reckons with her complicated feelings about the sister who she feels owes it to her to be her alter ego; with her father, a brandy-soaked retired professor of philosophy; and with the ghost of her dead mother.
First published in 1962, "Cassandra at the Wedding" is a book of enduring freshness, insight, and verve. Like the fiction of Jeffrey Eugenides and Jhumpa Lahiri, it is the work of a master stylist with a profound understanding of the complexities of the heart and mind.
Dorothy Baker's entrancing tragicomic novella follows an unpredictable course of events in which her heroine appears variously as conniving, self-aware, pitiful, frenzied, absurd, and heartbroken--at once utterly impossible and tremendously sympathetic. As she struggles to come to terms with the only life she has, Cassandra reckons with her complicated feelings about the sister who she feels owes it to her to be her alter ego; with her father, a brandy-soaked retired professor of philosophy; and with the ghost of her dead mother.
First published in 1962, "Cassandra at the Wedding" is a book of enduring freshness, insight, and verve. Like the fiction of Jeffrey Eugenides and Jhumpa Lahiri, it is the work of a master stylist with a profound understanding of the complexities of the heart and mind.
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First published January 1, 1962
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About the author
Dorothy Baker
19 books57 followersDorothy Baker (1907–1968) was born in Missoula, Montana, in 1907 and raised in California. After graduating from UCLA , she traveled in France, where she began a novel and, in 1930, married the poet Howard Baker. The couple moved back to California, and Baker completed an MA in French, later teaching at a private school. After having a few short stories published, she turned to writing full time, despite, she would later claim, being “seriously hampered by an abject admiration for Ernest Hemingway.” In 1938, she published Young Man with a Horn, which was awarded the prestigious Houghton Mifflin Literary Fellowship Award. She received a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1942 and, the next year, published Trio, a novel whose frank portrayal of a lesbian relationship proved too scandalous for the times; Baker and her husband adapted the novel as a play in 1944, but it was quickly shut down because of protests. Her final novel, Cassandra at the Wedding (also published as an NYRB Classic), examined the relationship between two exceptionally close sisters, whom Howard Baker asserted were based on both Baker herself and the couple’s two daughters. Baker died in 1968 of cancer.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,077 reviews
April 4, 2023
Judy, what's the matter with this family? Why did she?
This is a virtuoso tour de force of a book: intense, claustrophobic, harrowing in places but also magnetic with glints of dark wit, and put together with more artfulness than the forceful outpouring of prose might initially indicate.
Written as three monologues, from the volatile and self-destructive Cassandra, her more balanced and conventional identical twin Judith, then Cassandra again, there's a dramatic, cinematic feel to the whole piece with chapters set in key locations and centred on concentrated dialogues between characters. The passionate, troubled emotions between Cass and Jude are given some respite in the important but dialled down encounters with their idle, clever father, their proper and controlling grandmother and the man whom Judith is going to marry.
Baker manages to say so much in such a short space about the hermetic rules of families; the dysfunction that might co-exist with intense love; the desire to escape as a form of emotional maturity and the stilted dependency that might indicate love going wrong.
There are classical mythic symbols used lightly but which add resonance: Cass recalling the myth of Narcissus where her face and that of her identical twin become confused; her own name given to her by her father from the prophetess of Troy who is recalled by Cass's screaming when born; the interplay of 'pagan' mythology with Christian: Judith's name from the biblical character and the way she is likened to a Madonna in contrast to Cassie's dryad. And the underpinning of Plato's myth of beings torn in half, searching for their other halves to be made complete from his Symposium.
The whole book takes place over a weekend and works as a reckoning in miniature as the pressures and anxieties of years overspill in these two days - a structure that feels play-like and nicely theatrical, with a sense of catharsis by the end.
Baker's writing is a revelation. Textured, taut, it straddles the inner movements of soliloquy with the naturalness of dialogue where speech itself becomes a marker of character. There is no real exposition and I was reminded of confrontational theatre in places, something like Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? with incendiary peaks and climaxes.
A stunning piece of writing best read in a couple of sittings to maintain the emotional strain and closed-in feel - how strange that Baker's brilliance is not better recognised.
April 18, 2023
Dorothy Baker is an underrated talent, a writer I'd not read before this. Cassandra at the Wedding is a brilliant example of things like voice and craft. Cass's voice is so powerful and unique (Judith's too, when it comes), and the whole thing is perfectly constructed, both structurally and on the sentence level. I had some major issues with the denouement, though, which is unfortunate because I thought this was a 20th century classic up until the last section. I can't say I'd recommend this without some heavy caveats, but for a group or buddy read - or for a writing class - this absolutely has its place.
February 24, 2023
I couldn’t easily access Young Man with a Horn (I’ve seen the movie), for the next (NYRBWomen23) group read, so I decided to read a different book by the same author, one I remember friends here reviewing enthusiastically. I loved it.
Baker has created such a great voice for Cassandra, the first-person narrator for most of the book, and I was immediately drawn in. She’s funny. She’s smart. But there’s also no mistaking the darkness in her words. I thought that when her beloved identical sister (don’t say that other word!) took over for the middle section, I wouldn’t be as engaged, but I loved Judith too. She’s just as smart, though maybe not as funny. She’s clear-eyed and, of course, recognizes darkness. For nine months (a significant number, I imagine), she’s escaped her sister’s darkness and now needs to make her escape permanent, which is exactly what Cassandra fears. If I didn’t find the third and last section (back to Cassandra’s voice) as interesting as the first — we’re no longer on a wild, scary ride, and we do need to stop at some point — I did recognize the ending as psychologically astute, and sobering.
I wanted to add to my review something about Plato, metaphysical “weddings,” the search for 'completion' vs. individuation, etc.; but I feel blocked from doing that. Instead, I really just want to keep living in this book.
Baker has created such a great voice for Cassandra, the first-person narrator for most of the book, and I was immediately drawn in. She’s funny. She’s smart. But there’s also no mistaking the darkness in her words. I thought that when her beloved identical sister (don’t say that other word!) took over for the middle section, I wouldn’t be as engaged, but I loved Judith too. She’s just as smart, though maybe not as funny. She’s clear-eyed and, of course, recognizes darkness. For nine months (a significant number, I imagine), she’s escaped her sister’s darkness and now needs to make her escape permanent, which is exactly what Cassandra fears. If I didn’t find the third and last section (back to Cassandra’s voice) as interesting as the first — we’re no longer on a wild, scary ride, and we do need to stop at some point — I did recognize the ending as psychologically astute, and sobering.
I wanted to add to my review something about Plato, metaphysical “weddings,” the search for 'completion' vs. individuation, etc.; but I feel blocked from doing that. Instead, I really just want to keep living in this book.
December 31, 2014
She wastes herself, she drifts; all she wants to do with her life is lose it somewhere.
The title of this novel sounds peppy and chick-flick-y. Thankfully, it was a self-deprecating, slow moving madness. A fog. A bundle of nerves.
The story switched gears halfway and became serious very quickly. And it's wonderfully dark and frantic.
I wanted to stop and explain it to granny, tell her it was my fault for not knowing what I should have known - that people like us can't really be people and live happy lives. There's a cloud over us and we're caught in it together, then, now, and always.
All this sadness and dysfunction and these family members who drink and fret and deny. It was, as it turned out, a perfect choice to read in the midst of the holiday season.
The title of this novel sounds peppy and chick-flick-y. Thankfully, it was a self-deprecating, slow moving madness. A fog. A bundle of nerves.
The story switched gears halfway and became serious very quickly. And it's wonderfully dark and frantic.
I wanted to stop and explain it to granny, tell her it was my fault for not knowing what I should have known - that people like us can't really be people and live happy lives. There's a cloud over us and we're caught in it together, then, now, and always.
All this sadness and dysfunction and these family members who drink and fret and deny. It was, as it turned out, a perfect choice to read in the midst of the holiday season.
June 27, 2012
"You've always needed a lot more of everything than I do," she said. "Haven't you?"
I wanted to tell her that I didn't need much. Just a few essentials- faith in something and a little sense of location, but I didn't. I didn't because I was looking at her and seeing, again, the very face I'd seen behind the bottles in the bar this afternoon, the one that can always give me a turn when I really look at it and know who it is and why it looks back at me the way it does- as if it belonged to me.
Dorothy Baker left the ache that pumps the heart less in the eye socket sucker look that passes when you catch your own expression in the mirror and in the beat before you can't recognize your own face that's gonna be the face you gotta get used to seeing all by its lonesome for the rest of your life. It may as well be no one looking back because you'll never get used to seeing them. I got a lot out of Cassandra at the Wedding and still I cannot truthfully say that it is a good book. My heart would pitter patter on the lie detector test. Slow witted, meandering and bored. Okay, it cut me deep because I'm terrified that this is what I'm like. You can tell I'm lying by the flat lining on the monitors hooked up to my (a)voided eye socket in the mirror that says I'm gonna die alone. In lipstick, of course. Shade you dumb fuck. Cassandra at the Wedding is that type of book. Cassandra's shade would be something like red cross and blue shield.
Judith's maternal look before identical twin Cassandra's settled in the boozy late as in late day vanity mirror. It's replaced with exasperation and oh no she didn't! Did she really say that? Girlfriend, sistah and whatever the '60s movie Hayley Mills might have snappily snapped around the time. Fingers and jazz hands. You know, maybe something directed by her father and a bid to escape Disney's casting couch dirty and clean on the buttoned in time front clutches for some societally conscious edge. Judith is getting married to a doctor! I didn't catch if she was going to finish college after she married what's his face or not. Did anyone in that family even ask? Maybe they were too hushed voices around temper tantrum throwing Cassandra. Let's get together/ yeah yeah yeah like that song from The Parent Trap (I don't know about you but my identical twin self was mortified by that song and cute act for the adults). Let's put on all the songs the family knows to keep the peace. We mustn't upset Cassandra, daddy, Judith or grandma! I can see all too well how that dance went. Deceased mama was one of those glamour pusses that memoirists excuse how little care they took with their children because they just looked so darn good in a pair of boots and a nice purse. Yawn.
I didn't care too much about how drunk Cassandra always was. Glasses clink, glasses are swirled, glasses held and it's all props, security blankets and things to do with your hands. My hand hides a yawn. Cassandra at the Wedding pretty much bored me a lot of the time. Blah blah Cassandra can talk anyone into doing anything she wants because she has a WAY about her. I didn't see it when Cassandra is talking and I didn't see it when it was Judith's turn. I've had a lifetime of twin expectations to live with and it's too never cut through the surface bullshit for me to never get past "Oh, but we are deliberately different because people expect us to be the same!" Oh my god! Really?! I never would have thought... Oh wait, I did. The issue comes up once in a while and pretending that it is an all the time thing is too much for me. It was important that Cassandra measured herself by Judith. I would have gotten that without all the toilet hair holding. Judith hides behind how Cassandra is seen, like a kid on the first day of kindergarten and mommy hasn't worked up the necessary nerve to leave baby to sink or swim. Girl will say anything, ya'll! I'm such a good little girl. What was with the holier than thou act from Judith after all this time? She's not her damned mama. Was she winning because she found a man to marry? Cassandra at the Wedding bugged the fuck out of me with that shit. I liked Cassandra's inner feather ruffling over how Judith will stroke her with those maternal looks. Sometimes it is in the wrong direction and other times kitty purrs. That was good. Why waste my time with superficial observations when you can talk about what it is really all about? It's about how you can't stand to be held and you can't live without it. You don't wanna get used to the face you see in the mirror.
Cassandra announces straight off that she cannot be a writer because her dead mother was one. She can't live in her shadow and she can't surpass it. Bull shit. Cassandra hides behind these couch observations. Was it any surprise that she had a lady shrink that she tried to impress with all of her on her back and legs in the air excuses, excuses, excuses? I liked the way that Baker didn't make a deal about Cassandra's lesbianism. Did she have to roll out the rug munching with the LOOK that the doc had when she alights on Cassandra's suicidal blond face? LOVE. Fuck me. I get it, Cassandra has the WAY and everyone likes her, even after she pulls the if you get married I'll kill myself routine?
I actually liked Cassandra sometimes. I liked it when she fantasizes about what it would be like to have bats living in her hair. It's no good when she inevitably humanizes the bats in her hair. That's a problem, identifying everything as human. You're telling me. I liked when she is fascinated with the drain at the bottom of the swimming pool. I think about Cassandra's fixation on the light from above reflecting on the depths a lot. I think about it when I test myself on how long I can hold my own breath.
And it killed me. Flat lined on Charlie Brown's lovelorn not sunshine yellow jersey. Judith didn't know why Cassandra always thought the two of them together was something so special. I don't believe she ever really did. I don't know how to go on believing that either. I wanted to, for them, and I couldn't. Dorothy Baker never did this for me. I wish that she had not tried to. Judith waited for Cassandra to come home to their apartment. The bosendorfer they had purchased together that only Judith could play waits like it could be a furry kitten. Judith abandons the ship mama didn't let sink or swim and the bosendorfer and Cassandra's belly are willfully anorexic to all strokes and fur rubbing, wrong way or no. It scares her how skinny Cassandra has gotten. If it was her Cassandra would find the will to bring her back to the shore. Mouth to mouth and heart to heart. Lips moving and hearts moving and I hear no words. Lip synching and not in my kitchen sync. Identical twin hands with those mirror image thumb prints touching. But she doesn't need help and Cassandra is alone. She has someone. Cassandra does not. Baker killed me.
Carson McCullers apparently stayed up all night reading Cassandra at the Wedding. I knew that when reading it and couldn't help but think about her two novels (that have meant the world to me throughout my life so far) The Heart is a Lonely Hunter and Member of the Wedding. 'Hunter' is the worst thing that could ever happen to me. The loss of the music in my head that gets me throughout the days. Anything at all to look forward to, a moving to be close to something, anywhere I can get it. Even if I have to invent what to be close to myself. 'Member' is when what you have to do to get that does not work any more and it is dire straights. I believe she got something out of 'Cassandra' because I did too, despite it being no where near as good as her novels. Too much breath wasted on the mechanizations of the self destruction and not enough for what the pull to join it looked like. I got it when she's in the pool and the bats in her hair. I got it in the passing looks when she looks at Judith and sees an almost her and an almost Judith. Why would Judith just go but I have someone and you don't? (I didn't care about her doctor at all. He's an unoffensive type, essentially.) If Cassandra truly believed that the two of them were something special then where was the Cassandra half that's the force I'm supposed to believe she is? She was not there for anyone or for herself. I've been too close to the worst thing that could ever happen to me of The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. I knew Member of the Wedding before my fourteen year old self found myself in it for the first time. I know what the hell you have to do to stop that, if you can. Cassandra at the Wedding missed it when it didn't talk about that. I don't give a shit if Cassandra was a loveable self destruct button pusher (not really). So, she wasn't not writing because of her glamour pussy always got stroked mama. She was hiding. The whole damned thing was an act and one that is too easy to see through. If you're going to invent it should be something you can live on or it's going to be worse when you have to look at yourself. They have someone and you don't, right? Cries. I didn't want some easy cliche about people stereotyping you against your twin when I knew that before I could crawl! I didn't need to be told that it is no good to count on anyone else to love you because I knew that before I could stand on my own two feet! If I can stand on my own two feet. Cassandra can't. Will she ever? I have no idea. If this book told me she could I wouldn't believe it. I wanted a book I could believe. I wanted company. I wanted a friend! Is that too much to ask?
Okay, I hated this book somewhat because I felt like it was telling me (Cassandra) that I'm too attached to people I like and they all have their own lives and have no use for me. This is true, I already knew it was true. I don't need this book to tell me that! Okay, so reading this made me feel sick to my stomach and I am honestly going to swear off all attachments for good this time. After I finish snuggling with this rabbit. Just five more minutes!
I wanted to tell her that I didn't need much. Just a few essentials- faith in something and a little sense of location, but I didn't. I didn't because I was looking at her and seeing, again, the very face I'd seen behind the bottles in the bar this afternoon, the one that can always give me a turn when I really look at it and know who it is and why it looks back at me the way it does- as if it belonged to me.
Dorothy Baker left the ache that pumps the heart less in the eye socket sucker look that passes when you catch your own expression in the mirror and in the beat before you can't recognize your own face that's gonna be the face you gotta get used to seeing all by its lonesome for the rest of your life. It may as well be no one looking back because you'll never get used to seeing them. I got a lot out of Cassandra at the Wedding and still I cannot truthfully say that it is a good book. My heart would pitter patter on the lie detector test. Slow witted, meandering and bored. Okay, it cut me deep because I'm terrified that this is what I'm like. You can tell I'm lying by the flat lining on the monitors hooked up to my (a)voided eye socket in the mirror that says I'm gonna die alone. In lipstick, of course. Shade you dumb fuck. Cassandra at the Wedding is that type of book. Cassandra's shade would be something like red cross and blue shield.
Judith's maternal look before identical twin Cassandra's settled in the boozy late as in late day vanity mirror. It's replaced with exasperation and oh no she didn't! Did she really say that? Girlfriend, sistah and whatever the '60s movie Hayley Mills might have snappily snapped around the time. Fingers and jazz hands. You know, maybe something directed by her father and a bid to escape Disney's casting couch dirty and clean on the buttoned in time front clutches for some societally conscious edge. Judith is getting married to a doctor! I didn't catch if she was going to finish college after she married what's his face or not. Did anyone in that family even ask? Maybe they were too hushed voices around temper tantrum throwing Cassandra. Let's get together/ yeah yeah yeah like that song from The Parent Trap (I don't know about you but my identical twin self was mortified by that song and cute act for the adults). Let's put on all the songs the family knows to keep the peace. We mustn't upset Cassandra, daddy, Judith or grandma! I can see all too well how that dance went. Deceased mama was one of those glamour pusses that memoirists excuse how little care they took with their children because they just looked so darn good in a pair of boots and a nice purse. Yawn.
I didn't care too much about how drunk Cassandra always was. Glasses clink, glasses are swirled, glasses held and it's all props, security blankets and things to do with your hands. My hand hides a yawn. Cassandra at the Wedding pretty much bored me a lot of the time. Blah blah Cassandra can talk anyone into doing anything she wants because she has a WAY about her. I didn't see it when Cassandra is talking and I didn't see it when it was Judith's turn. I've had a lifetime of twin expectations to live with and it's too never cut through the surface bullshit for me to never get past "Oh, but we are deliberately different because people expect us to be the same!" Oh my god! Really?! I never would have thought... Oh wait, I did. The issue comes up once in a while and pretending that it is an all the time thing is too much for me. It was important that Cassandra measured herself by Judith. I would have gotten that without all the toilet hair holding. Judith hides behind how Cassandra is seen, like a kid on the first day of kindergarten and mommy hasn't worked up the necessary nerve to leave baby to sink or swim. Girl will say anything, ya'll! I'm such a good little girl. What was with the holier than thou act from Judith after all this time? She's not her damned mama. Was she winning because she found a man to marry? Cassandra at the Wedding bugged the fuck out of me with that shit. I liked Cassandra's inner feather ruffling over how Judith will stroke her with those maternal looks. Sometimes it is in the wrong direction and other times kitty purrs. That was good. Why waste my time with superficial observations when you can talk about what it is really all about? It's about how you can't stand to be held and you can't live without it. You don't wanna get used to the face you see in the mirror.
Cassandra announces straight off that she cannot be a writer because her dead mother was one. She can't live in her shadow and she can't surpass it. Bull shit. Cassandra hides behind these couch observations. Was it any surprise that she had a lady shrink that she tried to impress with all of her on her back and legs in the air excuses, excuses, excuses? I liked the way that Baker didn't make a deal about Cassandra's lesbianism. Did she have to roll out the rug munching with the LOOK that the doc had when she alights on Cassandra's suicidal blond face? LOVE. Fuck me. I get it, Cassandra has the WAY and everyone likes her, even after she pulls the if you get married I'll kill myself routine?
I actually liked Cassandra sometimes. I liked it when she fantasizes about what it would be like to have bats living in her hair. It's no good when she inevitably humanizes the bats in her hair. That's a problem, identifying everything as human. You're telling me. I liked when she is fascinated with the drain at the bottom of the swimming pool. I think about Cassandra's fixation on the light from above reflecting on the depths a lot. I think about it when I test myself on how long I can hold my own breath.
And it killed me. Flat lined on Charlie Brown's lovelorn not sunshine yellow jersey. Judith didn't know why Cassandra always thought the two of them together was something so special. I don't believe she ever really did. I don't know how to go on believing that either. I wanted to, for them, and I couldn't. Dorothy Baker never did this for me. I wish that she had not tried to. Judith waited for Cassandra to come home to their apartment. The bosendorfer they had purchased together that only Judith could play waits like it could be a furry kitten. Judith abandons the ship mama didn't let sink or swim and the bosendorfer and Cassandra's belly are willfully anorexic to all strokes and fur rubbing, wrong way or no. It scares her how skinny Cassandra has gotten. If it was her Cassandra would find the will to bring her back to the shore. Mouth to mouth and heart to heart. Lips moving and hearts moving and I hear no words. Lip synching and not in my kitchen sync. Identical twin hands with those mirror image thumb prints touching. But she doesn't need help and Cassandra is alone. She has someone. Cassandra does not. Baker killed me.
Carson McCullers apparently stayed up all night reading Cassandra at the Wedding. I knew that when reading it and couldn't help but think about her two novels (that have meant the world to me throughout my life so far) The Heart is a Lonely Hunter and Member of the Wedding. 'Hunter' is the worst thing that could ever happen to me. The loss of the music in my head that gets me throughout the days. Anything at all to look forward to, a moving to be close to something, anywhere I can get it. Even if I have to invent what to be close to myself. 'Member' is when what you have to do to get that does not work any more and it is dire straights. I believe she got something out of 'Cassandra' because I did too, despite it being no where near as good as her novels. Too much breath wasted on the mechanizations of the self destruction and not enough for what the pull to join it looked like. I got it when she's in the pool and the bats in her hair. I got it in the passing looks when she looks at Judith and sees an almost her and an almost Judith. Why would Judith just go but I have someone and you don't? (I didn't care about her doctor at all. He's an unoffensive type, essentially.) If Cassandra truly believed that the two of them were something special then where was the Cassandra half that's the force I'm supposed to believe she is? She was not there for anyone or for herself. I've been too close to the worst thing that could ever happen to me of The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. I knew Member of the Wedding before my fourteen year old self found myself in it for the first time. I know what the hell you have to do to stop that, if you can. Cassandra at the Wedding missed it when it didn't talk about that. I don't give a shit if Cassandra was a loveable self destruct button pusher (not really). So, she wasn't not writing because of her glamour pussy always got stroked mama. She was hiding. The whole damned thing was an act and one that is too easy to see through. If you're going to invent it should be something you can live on or it's going to be worse when you have to look at yourself. They have someone and you don't, right? Cries. I didn't want some easy cliche about people stereotyping you against your twin when I knew that before I could crawl! I didn't need to be told that it is no good to count on anyone else to love you because I knew that before I could stand on my own two feet! If I can stand on my own two feet. Cassandra can't. Will she ever? I have no idea. If this book told me she could I wouldn't believe it. I wanted a book I could believe. I wanted company. I wanted a friend! Is that too much to ask?
Okay, I hated this book somewhat because I felt like it was telling me (Cassandra) that I'm too attached to people I like and they all have their own lives and have no use for me. This is true, I already knew it was true. I don't need this book to tell me that! Okay, so reading this made me feel sick to my stomach and I am honestly going to swear off all attachments for good this time. After I finish snuggling with this rabbit. Just five more minutes!
April 17, 2025
i fear this book had a genius to it that went over my head and i wish i could have fully appreciated it. 4.5
Read
October 29, 2016Cassandra's twin sister is getting married and Cassandra is grieving this schism. Who gets the Bösendorfer? What do twins wear at one twin's wedding? For once, in literature, a harmlessly drunk father.
They were like this:
"Do you remember, Papa?" I said, "when you read to us out of The Anatomy of Melancholy --'Be not idle, be not solitary'?"
"It's the other way around, I believe," papa said. "'Be not solitary, be not idle.' What about it?"
"Nothing, except I remembered it. It's why I left Berkeley and went to New York. I was stuck."
"I don't know why I should have chosen to read that to you," papa said, "I've always believed in solitude."
He looked down, saw his glass, recognized it, and took a drink.
"And in idleness too," he said. "I think the precept at the end of the book is more to the point. How does it go? Sperate Miseri, Cavete Felices. It's more for people like me."
"What's it mean?"
"You should know," he said, "it couldn't be simpler, it means: Hope, ye unhappy ones, Ye happy ones, fear."
My family does not talk like that. I look down and see my glass. I recognize the odd one in a family.
Catch the bouquet. Don't get tight. Come see the flowers. Come look at the buffet. Be nice.
_____ _____ _____ _____ _____
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:
If someone you know takes (on purpose) too many sleeping pills (eg.), the Universal Antidote is two parts burned toast (crushed), one part strong tea, two parts milk of magnesia. Apparently this is doctoring 101. Now you know.
They were like this:
"Do you remember, Papa?" I said, "when you read to us out of The Anatomy of Melancholy --'Be not idle, be not solitary'?"
"It's the other way around, I believe," papa said. "'Be not solitary, be not idle.' What about it?"
"Nothing, except I remembered it. It's why I left Berkeley and went to New York. I was stuck."
"I don't know why I should have chosen to read that to you," papa said, "I've always believed in solitude."
He looked down, saw his glass, recognized it, and took a drink.
"And in idleness too," he said. "I think the precept at the end of the book is more to the point. How does it go? Sperate Miseri, Cavete Felices. It's more for people like me."
"What's it mean?"
"You should know," he said, "it couldn't be simpler, it means: Hope, ye unhappy ones, Ye happy ones, fear."
My family does not talk like that. I look down and see my glass. I recognize the odd one in a family.
Catch the bouquet. Don't get tight. Come see the flowers. Come look at the buffet. Be nice.
_____ _____ _____ _____ _____
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:
If someone you know takes (on purpose) too many sleeping pills (eg.), the Universal Antidote is two parts burned toast (crushed), one part strong tea, two parts milk of magnesia. Apparently this is doctoring 101. Now you know.
November 13, 2024
Cassandra and Judith Edwards are identical twins. They were living together in Berkeley, just far enough away from their family home in California’s central valley, until Judith went to New York to study music. Cassandra has been alone in their apartment for nine months, and is now headed home for Judith’s wedding to a doctor she met in New York. We learn their mother had died, and their hard-drinking professor father lives on the family’s ranch with their mother’s mother, Granny.
The twins never wanted to dress alike, but they cherish and foster a special bond, and see themselves as set apart from everyone else.
“We can start living where other imaginations fail.”
When you’ve had that special link with a person, and they go off to link with someone else, it’s tough, and that’s what Cassandra is going through. The reader knows right away, from Cassandra’s unique voice, that they’re in for a journey like no other. Judith takes over for part of the story, but it’s Cassandra who shines, as both exasperating and intriguing; sympathetic and arrogant and dark and unique.
A fun read, that leads to thoughts about what makes up the connections we experience, how flexible they are, and what happens when we test that flexibility.
The twins never wanted to dress alike, but they cherish and foster a special bond, and see themselves as set apart from everyone else.
“We can start living where other imaginations fail.”
When you’ve had that special link with a person, and they go off to link with someone else, it’s tough, and that’s what Cassandra is going through. The reader knows right away, from Cassandra’s unique voice, that they’re in for a journey like no other. Judith takes over for part of the story, but it’s Cassandra who shines, as both exasperating and intriguing; sympathetic and arrogant and dark and unique.
A fun read, that leads to thoughts about what makes up the connections we experience, how flexible they are, and what happens when we test that flexibility.
December 11, 2020
What a book. Just incredible - beautifully written, clever, poignant, witty and so atmospheric. I highly recommend.
October 25, 2015
The things that get in your way; the indignities you have to suffer before you’re free to do one simple, personal, necessary thing--like work.But I will release Cassandra's self pity that I have come to imagine as my own. As I watch the winds as carrying away my contrived notion of reality, watching the light do great many things to it until, it is out of sight and perhaps I will be bold enough to make the distinction.
It has become increasingly hard for me to put the jibber jabber of thoughts on my mind in a coherent and constructive manner. It has become increasingly hard for me to draw my focus to the matter at hand. I am trying. Cassandra came into my life and despite her own mess, she helped clear mine. I have tried many ways to do this review, to actually explain what happened in with Cassandra at the Wedding, but it seems distant and dishonest. Instead, I hope you will endure my attempts to gain clarity.
People in isolation don't do well. Not even the snarky ones who claim to abhor humanity. They are only deeply dissatisfied with mankind. It is visible to the logical mind but opaque to those who have been drowned in this frame of mind, they are simply unhappy with themselves. The unhappiness arises from a vision of how life should be, a vision that is the only access to happiness and the chasm between the vision and reality.
Cassandra's vision is of a life with her identical, yet very different, twin, Judith. This vision is rooted in a perfect night, a moment of recognition of a way to live in consonance with one’s ideals. Moments that put the mind on a a high pinnacle of joy, bound to result in a great collapse.
An imminent catastrophe tends to make us question the validity of the past. In theory, it is absurd to imagine the past with the wisdom of the present, yet often one views the past anachronistically. One may abandon the bliss of times gone by as juvenile or silly. Or revere it beyond it’s expiration, clinging on the debris as it comes crashing to the earth. It seems that these people are unable to make peace with their personal misgivings.
Everbody has impulses... I have all kinds. Just about like yours. But I always hoped I could bring you to understand that there is such a thing as a whole life - a way of life - and a reason of that is strong enough to protect you from every little whistling call of the wild.
A whole life is not given on a platter. It has to be made and It involves failure. A vision like that should be relieving, not having to be perfect and reality can be more glorious than that if only one embraces it. Yet, when one lives with a strict adherence to one's values, there is difficulty testing another way. The difference that I see between the two ways of living is what you respect most, an ideal higher truth or imperfect human beings with a right to pursue a better life. Cassandra is that person of staunch ideals but she loves Jude enough to listen to her arguments, to long for a lighter life.
Part of this willingness comes from Cassandra's sense of oneness with Judith. As someone who has a very strong bond with my sibling, this felt distinctly similar. Perhaps living in the same family, on the same lopsided power equation makes siblings understand each other in a way other kinds of relationships don't. The deep satisfaction of that oneness can get suffocating. Clinging on to the other, who wants to deviate the narrow path. The conflict unearths a deep seated conflict that I have within myself. Can I tread another world, for a while? Can I whole heartedly immerse myself there? But can I also come back? It seems greedy, as I write this down, but more than anything I want permission to make mistakes because I'm finding it very hard to seize it as a right.
--
I'm writing this well over a month since I read the book. It feels nice to still have a place to come to an babble on incoherently about this brilliant novel, especially when I see that a few of my GR friends have been reading this :)
--
October 25, 2015
March 13, 2016
“The first thing one learns in life is that the self is a partial thing; at the very moment of birth one is consigned to terminal separateness. The one attribute we can be sure that we all share is incompleteness.”
Reading this in Deborah Eisenberg’s afterword sent volts through me. My sister and I just had this conversation, over the dregs of our breakfast coffee at 2pm: conceptions of self are so fluid, so contingent on other people, so impossible to articulate. And I don’t know that we’re incomplete, actually, but that each of us is infinite, depending on perception and expression. I am large, I contain multitudes.
Sometimes books are just so goddamn timely. I mean: I’ve had this book for years, but started it – fully unintentionally – the day before I boarded a plane from Whitehorse to Montreal, crossing the country away from my sister’s new city.
Reading this book was sickly familiar – like when you excitedly eat that seriously rich dessert you loved as a kid, but, churning, realize you can’t quite stomach it as an adult.
Aside from metaphor – I won’t get into it; it doesn’t need getting into. But those scenes where the twins remember sitting at the feet of their philosopher father as he pontificates, educates; where the sounds of the old family home hold too much memory, too much power; where Cassandra rails against stretching outwards for fear of losing that private beauty she can’t relinquish -----
This book is a goddamn treasure, alright. The shifts between the twins’ voices and perspectives are calculated and marvellous, the parallels subtle and the divergences glaring. Both Cass and Jude are built up carefully, judiciously, with attention to minute detail. The plot winds slowly, but with that car-crash-what’s-gonna-happen-oh-god-i-can’t-look-away kind of suspense: you know something’s gonna hit the fan, but how and when is a slap in the damn face.
Don’t spoil yourself. Just pick this up and take it all in: the descriptions of violent heat in California, the insistent questioning of love and fairness, the snark and the insight, the sheer absurdity that is a family unit. This is artful construction, but more – loving construction – from an author who decorously understands each character she’s created, who has given them space to play, to hide, and if not to fight – to run.
It’s been awhile since I’ve read a book and sympathized so fiercely with such an abhorrent ‘protagonist’ (Pravda and Seven Types of Ambiguity – looking at you, boys). But I loved Cassandra (who I couldn’t stop picturing as Margot Kidder in Black Christmas); I loved her, I got her, man, and I saw that brat’s rotten flaws and possessive fire and her failure to overcome and. And. What a perfect example of a timeless character, bleeding through her ‘60s context right into 2016: I know exactly how you feel, Cassandra; or if not exactly: I can imagine it.
I’ve been crying all day, on and off planes, as I cross the country and head home. I miss my sister. But I am not Cassandra, and she’s in no way – least of all characterization, hah – Judith. We’ve both crossed the bridge. I miss her every day, but: I know she misses me, too.
With endless respect to Dorothy Baker for writing such a brilliant, such an outstandingly relatable, novel.
Reading this in Deborah Eisenberg’s afterword sent volts through me. My sister and I just had this conversation, over the dregs of our breakfast coffee at 2pm: conceptions of self are so fluid, so contingent on other people, so impossible to articulate. And I don’t know that we’re incomplete, actually, but that each of us is infinite, depending on perception and expression. I am large, I contain multitudes.
Sometimes books are just so goddamn timely. I mean: I’ve had this book for years, but started it – fully unintentionally – the day before I boarded a plane from Whitehorse to Montreal, crossing the country away from my sister’s new city.
Reading this book was sickly familiar – like when you excitedly eat that seriously rich dessert you loved as a kid, but, churning, realize you can’t quite stomach it as an adult.
Aside from metaphor – I won’t get into it; it doesn’t need getting into. But those scenes where the twins remember sitting at the feet of their philosopher father as he pontificates, educates; where the sounds of the old family home hold too much memory, too much power; where Cassandra rails against stretching outwards for fear of losing that private beauty she can’t relinquish -----
This book is a goddamn treasure, alright. The shifts between the twins’ voices and perspectives are calculated and marvellous, the parallels subtle and the divergences glaring. Both Cass and Jude are built up carefully, judiciously, with attention to minute detail. The plot winds slowly, but with that car-crash-what’s-gonna-happen-oh-god-i-can’t-look-away kind of suspense: you know something’s gonna hit the fan, but how and when is a slap in the damn face.
Don’t spoil yourself. Just pick this up and take it all in: the descriptions of violent heat in California, the insistent questioning of love and fairness, the snark and the insight, the sheer absurdity that is a family unit. This is artful construction, but more – loving construction – from an author who decorously understands each character she’s created, who has given them space to play, to hide, and if not to fight – to run.
It’s been awhile since I’ve read a book and sympathized so fiercely with such an abhorrent ‘protagonist’ (Pravda and Seven Types of Ambiguity – looking at you, boys). But I loved Cassandra (who I couldn’t stop picturing as Margot Kidder in Black Christmas); I loved her, I got her, man, and I saw that brat’s rotten flaws and possessive fire and her failure to overcome and. And. What a perfect example of a timeless character, bleeding through her ‘60s context right into 2016: I know exactly how you feel, Cassandra; or if not exactly: I can imagine it.
I’ve been crying all day, on and off planes, as I cross the country and head home. I miss my sister. But I am not Cassandra, and she’s in no way – least of all characterization, hah – Judith. We’ve both crossed the bridge. I miss her every day, but: I know she misses me, too.
With endless respect to Dorothy Baker for writing such a brilliant, such an outstandingly relatable, novel.
January 7, 2024
Cassandra Edwards is a singular character; one of those voices that only comes around once in a while in literature. While this story is over 60 years old now, it feels as relevant as ever. And it's delivered in a slim but punchy style that feels so fresh and exciting.
The story follows Cassandra, heading home from Berkeley to her family's ranch in the hill country outside Bakersfield, California. She's heading home to see her identical twin sister, Judith, be married to a man Cassandra has never met after 9 months of separation from her sister. This difficult period of separation has led Cassandra to question her very existence, and how the weekend plays out feels fully at her whim. Will she break up the wedding to secure her future with her other half? Or will she overcome her own obstacles to allow her sister her happy ending?
Baker is a quick and sharp writer. The dialogue in this is quippy and endearing; the characters speak with an intellectualism that sets them apart, adrift in their own world in a relatively rural area. It's nearly a one setting story, for the most part, and that isolation breeds anxiety like a pressure cooker. We, the readers, are waiting to see how the steam gets let out: either a slow exhale or an explosion.
I really enjoyed this reading experience. I was so surprised by the writing and how contemporary it felt, while still maintaining a sense of its time. The mid-century setting is appealing for its nostalgia, and yet the characters break that a bit with their existential dread.
If you like the trend of 'messy girl lit,' with characters who you can't help but love despite their poor decision making, this feels like it laid the groundwork for a lot of that.
The story follows Cassandra, heading home from Berkeley to her family's ranch in the hill country outside Bakersfield, California. She's heading home to see her identical twin sister, Judith, be married to a man Cassandra has never met after 9 months of separation from her sister. This difficult period of separation has led Cassandra to question her very existence, and how the weekend plays out feels fully at her whim. Will she break up the wedding to secure her future with her other half? Or will she overcome her own obstacles to allow her sister her happy ending?
Baker is a quick and sharp writer. The dialogue in this is quippy and endearing; the characters speak with an intellectualism that sets them apart, adrift in their own world in a relatively rural area. It's nearly a one setting story, for the most part, and that isolation breeds anxiety like a pressure cooker. We, the readers, are waiting to see how the steam gets let out: either a slow exhale or an explosion.
I really enjoyed this reading experience. I was so surprised by the writing and how contemporary it felt, while still maintaining a sense of its time. The mid-century setting is appealing for its nostalgia, and yet the characters break that a bit with their existential dread.
If you like the trend of 'messy girl lit,' with characters who you can't help but love despite their poor decision making, this feels like it laid the groundwork for a lot of that.
Read
October 23, 2019This is the story of Cassandra, a good deal more dextrous than sinister, according to herself, though for a while, it might have seemed the opposite.
…but what can you do...when you’ve just finished failing to cease? Nothing except what I did, which was to stop looking through the eyelashes and bring down the lids. And wait. And sink again, and at once feel myself borne up by many arms and many hands, tossed from one to another, manipulated like an adagio dancer, pulled this way, pushed that way; you hold her, now this arm in this one, that one there, button it now, and there we are. That’s it. But what was it all the time they were waiting for the shift to be found, and the buttons put through the buttonholes? Me, that’s what it was; me in the showcase, on display in the dissecting-room, handed back and forth, looked over more than overlooked, aware of my nudity, conscious somewhere down there that a cold nude is a different matter from a warm one. But even so, sometime that night...
Sometime that night, very late, I think, maybe morning but not light yet, Vera Mercer asked me about it, why I chose to go out bare? We were in the classic position, she in the chair, I on the couch–my bed, in this case. She’d been doing the talking for a change, off and on all night in fact, and I’d been in and out of the world, but more and more in it, hearing most of what she said, which was nothing too imposing, just a human, low-voiced stream of what sounded like free association, possibly to show me how it should be done. But once in a while she’d throw me a question which I could either pretend not to hear or else go ahead and try to answer; and when she came to this one–why had I decided to die divested?–I made the choice to answer it honestly. ‘Because,’ I said, ‘I thought I might as well go out with my best foot forward. I’m all I’ve got.’
…but what can you do...when you’ve just finished failing to cease? Nothing except what I did, which was to stop looking through the eyelashes and bring down the lids. And wait. And sink again, and at once feel myself borne up by many arms and many hands, tossed from one to another, manipulated like an adagio dancer, pulled this way, pushed that way; you hold her, now this arm in this one, that one there, button it now, and there we are. That’s it. But what was it all the time they were waiting for the shift to be found, and the buttons put through the buttonholes? Me, that’s what it was; me in the showcase, on display in the dissecting-room, handed back and forth, looked over more than overlooked, aware of my nudity, conscious somewhere down there that a cold nude is a different matter from a warm one. But even so, sometime that night...
Sometime that night, very late, I think, maybe morning but not light yet, Vera Mercer asked me about it, why I chose to go out bare? We were in the classic position, she in the chair, I on the couch–my bed, in this case. She’d been doing the talking for a change, off and on all night in fact, and I’d been in and out of the world, but more and more in it, hearing most of what she said, which was nothing too imposing, just a human, low-voiced stream of what sounded like free association, possibly to show me how it should be done. But once in a while she’d throw me a question which I could either pretend not to hear or else go ahead and try to answer; and when she came to this one–why had I decided to die divested?–I made the choice to answer it honestly. ‘Because,’ I said, ‘I thought I might as well go out with my best foot forward. I’m all I’ve got.’
March 15, 2010
Dorothy Baker was apparently a straight woman who liked to write lesbian fiction. The lesbianism of the main character and narrator, Cassandra, is subtly treated. She sits down with her identical twin sister Judith and tells her "as honestly as I could how I'm constituted. With men I feel like a bird in the clutch of a cat, terrified, caught in a nightmare of confinement, wanting nothing but to get free and take a shower." She's also more than a little emotionally disturbed, sees an analyst, and has thoughts of suicide - the Golden Gate Bridge appears to her as an "exit sign." She is having extreme difficulty separating from Judith, who went east to study at Juilliard and is now engaged to a doctor. The novel, set at the family ranch near Bakersfield, California, details Cassandra's attempts to derail the wedding and have Judith to herself. "There's probably a school for wives, but you don't need to go" Cassandra tells Judith, intending it as a snub of Judith's caretaking ways. The family is bohemian and loving, especially the sweet-tempered Granny, so Cassandra's selfishness can seem cruel, yet she's not an unlikeable character. She probably just takes after her mother, who recently died of cancer and whom Judith describes as less like a mother and "more like somebody's little brother."
I found this book on the library shelf while looking for Nicholson Baker's The Anthologist, which wasn't there. So this is what happens when you're a no-show, Nicholson. Bakers are a dime a dozen. Learn from this.
I found this book on the library shelf while looking for Nicholson Baker's The Anthologist, which wasn't there. So this is what happens when you're a no-show, Nicholson. Bakers are a dime a dozen. Learn from this.
October 16, 2015
Twins, for the most part, have close bonds. A bond that many of us cannot relate to. They sometimes have their own way of communicating, their own way of relating to others and trying to find themselves apart from their womb companion. When one tries to leave -- that bond, that strong, substantial, never-broken bond -- erodes away; leaving one vulnerable to the world of strangers that are not like themselves.
Judith and Cassandra were born into a life of luxury and of old money. Both are educated, witty and smart-mouthed. Judith is moving on with her life, another chapter commences and Cassandra is not ready, with her misery loves company. The wedding signifies the break in this aforementioned bond and she will not let Judith go without a fight; this will not happen without someone dying trying.
Baker's 'Cassandra at the Wedding' shows how a family functions better when they are away from one another and the dysfunction that happens when they come together.
Life's a stage; It's only big enough for one and Cassandra will be the star.
Judith and Cassandra were born into a life of luxury and of old money. Both are educated, witty and smart-mouthed. Judith is moving on with her life, another chapter commences and Cassandra is not ready, with her misery loves company. The wedding signifies the break in this aforementioned bond and she will not let Judith go without a fight; this will not happen without someone dying trying.
Baker's 'Cassandra at the Wedding' shows how a family functions better when they are away from one another and the dysfunction that happens when they come together.
Life's a stage; It's only big enough for one and Cassandra will be the star.
January 8, 2022
I had not heard of this book until it was recently chosen for a GR book group read. Never judge a book by its jacket. I would never have picked this up on my own. This was outstanding, thought provoking, insightful. Using the relationship of identical twin sisters and the wedding of one, this novel explores the formation of identity, entangled family relationships, emotional manipulation. Although the story is told in the voices of both sisters, the author does not allow the narrators to simply tell the reader everything. She manages to show us more than she tells us and trusts the reader to draw conclusions. This should be considered a classic.
December 5, 2021
Review to come.
September 5, 2025
4,5*
It would be difficult for a great many pharmacists to write: ‘as needed for zest’, or ‘as needed for zeal’, or ‘as needed to encourage the minimum of tolerance for the brute stupidities of this world’. It would also go against the grain to write simply ‘Pep pills’. Apothecaries have their own sensitivities and some of them cannot go beyond a gentle ‘as needed’. The big question here was what’s needed most: tranquillity, sleep, or zeal, and I didn’t feel like deciding in any great hurry.
Este livro é brilhante e surpreendente, e é tão atual que não parece ter sido escrito em 1962 mas sim este ano. Cassandra poderia ser uma dessas “millennials” descritas por Ottessa Moshfegh ou Sally Rooney, mas com mais sagacidade e capacidade de introspecção. Os diálogos, que costumo achar o ponto fraco dos escritores, são autênticas partidas de pingue-pongue, onde nunca se sabe para que lado a bola vai cair ou ressaltar, e os monólogos interiores não lhe ficam atrás, sempre cheios de sarcasmo e frases que dão vontade de sublinhar ou copiar. Formidável!
It would be difficult for a great many pharmacists to write: ‘as needed for zest’, or ‘as needed for zeal’, or ‘as needed to encourage the minimum of tolerance for the brute stupidities of this world’. It would also go against the grain to write simply ‘Pep pills’. Apothecaries have their own sensitivities and some of them cannot go beyond a gentle ‘as needed’. The big question here was what’s needed most: tranquillity, sleep, or zeal, and I didn’t feel like deciding in any great hurry.
Este livro é brilhante e surpreendente, e é tão atual que não parece ter sido escrito em 1962 mas sim este ano. Cassandra poderia ser uma dessas “millennials” descritas por Ottessa Moshfegh ou Sally Rooney, mas com mais sagacidade e capacidade de introspecção. Os diálogos, que costumo achar o ponto fraco dos escritores, são autênticas partidas de pingue-pongue, onde nunca se sabe para que lado a bola vai cair ou ressaltar, e os monólogos interiores não lhe ficam atrás, sempre cheios de sarcasmo e frases que dão vontade de sublinhar ou copiar. Formidável!
January 22, 2024
One of my favorite kinds of book - a short character study of a complicated, tortured, dazzling, entertaining person you just can't look away from, although sometimes you want to. And here she is, Cassandra Edwards, my Prince Hal with a clutch purse full of pills. My brain is too lazy right now to really dig into how Baker builds her, but clearly writing in the first person is key, not only to experience Cassie from the inside, but to hear her observations of people observing her. Refractions of refractions. Midway, we get a necessary dose of perspective through the eyes of Cassie's more grounded twin sister Judith, a mind less quick and mercurial, but still of a piece. I've never been drawn to mid 20th century North American literature, but NYRB classics has been teaching me otherwise, at least for the women writers. Another mindblower for me was Canadian writer Mavis Gallant's A Fairly Good Time
January 27, 2019
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T/W- Suicide attempt
Cassandra at the Wedding was such a strange and sadly, dull story about a woman travelling back to her past family roots in a bid to stop her twin sister from getting married. The writing style was long, story pacing incredibly slow and I just couldn't relate to any of the characters or events that took place. There is a trigger warning that I've listed above. This story was originally published in 1962 and I totally respect the author. This just simply wasn't for me!
T/W- Suicide attempt
Cassandra at the Wedding was such a strange and sadly, dull story about a woman travelling back to her past family roots in a bid to stop her twin sister from getting married. The writing style was long, story pacing incredibly slow and I just couldn't relate to any of the characters or events that took place. There is a trigger warning that I've listed above. This story was originally published in 1962 and I totally respect the author. This just simply wasn't for me!
May 5, 2023
I'm going to be a bit of an outlier here; I can see that the book is well written, it is good, but I couldn't relate at all to any of the characters, and in the end I just didn't care.
August 10, 2018
A beautifully written story of twin sisters, one of whom is getting married and the other is struggling to accept this new level of separation.
Cassandra and Judith Edwards are twins who have been raised in a seemingly idyllic life. Their mother was an established writer (thereby apparently leading to a writer's block in Cassandra who feels unable to live up to her mother's reputation and unwilling to compete with her mother) and retired professor of philosophy father. The affluent family owns a ranch in northern California.
In San Francisco, Cassandra is having problems completing her thesis about authors who are (roughly speaking) her own age. She is battling what seems to be severe depression while writing about these authors in order to get her degree and teach. Her real wish, however, is to be one of the authors she is writing about. Judith, an accomplished musician has moved to New York to study at Julliard. This is the first real separation the twins have experienced.
Cassandra is invited to her sister's unexpected wedding. She heads home to confront her sister and get her to call off the wedding. No spoilers here: this is all set-up in the first chapter. The rest of the book is dedicated to this meeting and its repercussions.
The writing in this book is amazing--beautifully crafted, each sentence seems both perfect in itself and perfectly contributing to the book as a whole. Cassandra, the opening voice in this novel (also told, later, from the point of view of Judith) is an engaging presence, funny and articulate while also raising concerns for her well-being. Judith is a more conservative presence that contrasts well with that of the more unstable, impulsive, but charming, Cassandra.
There were times I had difficulty maintaining my interest in the fates of these affluent characters with their problems of privilege, I nevertheless found myself nevertheless drawn into their lives and relationships. Cassandra was at times irritating to me but generally her lively, intelligent mind made for an engaging read.
Recommended for readers who are particularly interesting in writing craft as well as those who enjoy stories about family drama.
Cassandra and Judith Edwards are twins who have been raised in a seemingly idyllic life. Their mother was an established writer (thereby apparently leading to a writer's block in Cassandra who feels unable to live up to her mother's reputation and unwilling to compete with her mother) and retired professor of philosophy father. The affluent family owns a ranch in northern California.
In San Francisco, Cassandra is having problems completing her thesis about authors who are (roughly speaking) her own age. She is battling what seems to be severe depression while writing about these authors in order to get her degree and teach. Her real wish, however, is to be one of the authors she is writing about. Judith, an accomplished musician has moved to New York to study at Julliard. This is the first real separation the twins have experienced.
Cassandra is invited to her sister's unexpected wedding. She heads home to confront her sister and get her to call off the wedding. No spoilers here: this is all set-up in the first chapter. The rest of the book is dedicated to this meeting and its repercussions.
The writing in this book is amazing--beautifully crafted, each sentence seems both perfect in itself and perfectly contributing to the book as a whole. Cassandra, the opening voice in this novel (also told, later, from the point of view of Judith) is an engaging presence, funny and articulate while also raising concerns for her well-being. Judith is a more conservative presence that contrasts well with that of the more unstable, impulsive, but charming, Cassandra.
There were times I had difficulty maintaining my interest in the fates of these affluent characters with their problems of privilege, I nevertheless found myself nevertheless drawn into their lives and relationships. Cassandra was at times irritating to me but generally her lively, intelligent mind made for an engaging read.
Recommended for readers who are particularly interesting in writing craft as well as those who enjoy stories about family drama.
September 30, 2011
I have a deep fondness for sad-stuff-presented-cheerfully. The example I always think of is that song “But Not for Me,” specifically one of the versions by Judy Garland. The song is really about anguish, I think, but she sings it in a lovely, fairly understated way that sort of lets you off the hook somehow – like you have a choice between listening to it remotely and staying emotionally calm, or really focusing on it and getting kind of verklempt and suicidal. Most especially, I love the funny (and odd) little intro that goes
Old Man Sunshine, listen you
Never tell me dreams come true
Just try it / and I’ll start a riot
Beatrice Fairfax, don’tcha dare
Ever tell me he will care
I’m certain / it’s the final curtain
I never want to hear from any cheerful Polyannas
Who tell you fate supplies a mate; it’s all bananas
This book reminded me of that song, in that it’s about something painful, but it’s written with such a light touch, and so astutely, and with such snappy humor, that I just felt good and happy and warm the whole time I was reading it. Partly my reaction was so effusive because my expectations were low (apparently I think anything written in 1962 has to be Peyton Place, because I’m a moron), so I’m hesitant to praise it too much and inadvertently get anyone else’s expectations up too high before they read it. Also, I’m afraid to actively recommend it to anyone because I’m worried they’ll end up feeling snobbish about the delightfully sharp dialogue, like maybe they’ll decide the book is just some kind of easily dismissed confection. But I guess there’s no way around saying that I loved it. It sort of killed me, in all the good ways. And if anyone I know reads this book and doesn’t also dig it, please don’t tell me, because I can’t take it.
[Four stars if I’m trying hard to be objective; five stars because it made my heart sing. Part of the New York Review Books Classics collection, which apparently strives to bring out-of-print or forgotten books back into circulation.]
Old Man Sunshine, listen you
Never tell me dreams come true
Just try it / and I’ll start a riot
Beatrice Fairfax, don’tcha dare
Ever tell me he will care
I’m certain / it’s the final curtain
I never want to hear from any cheerful Polyannas
Who tell you fate supplies a mate; it’s all bananas
This book reminded me of that song, in that it’s about something painful, but it’s written with such a light touch, and so astutely, and with such snappy humor, that I just felt good and happy and warm the whole time I was reading it. Partly my reaction was so effusive because my expectations were low (apparently I think anything written in 1962 has to be Peyton Place, because I’m a moron), so I’m hesitant to praise it too much and inadvertently get anyone else’s expectations up too high before they read it. Also, I’m afraid to actively recommend it to anyone because I’m worried they’ll end up feeling snobbish about the delightfully sharp dialogue, like maybe they’ll decide the book is just some kind of easily dismissed confection. But I guess there’s no way around saying that I loved it. It sort of killed me, in all the good ways. And if anyone I know reads this book and doesn’t also dig it, please don’t tell me, because I can’t take it.
[Four stars if I’m trying hard to be objective; five stars because it made my heart sing. Part of the New York Review Books Classics collection, which apparently strives to bring out-of-print or forgotten books back into circulation.]
January 23, 2022
CASSANDRA AT THE WEDDING (1962) is a story of the intense, symbiotic relationship between two twin sisters.
Cassandra has returned to her childhood home to begrudgingly attend her twin's sister marriage to a nice, young, promising doctor. She's absolutely determined to make her sister call the whole thing off. Cassandra is witty, brilliant, funny as well as narcissistic and destructive. She goes to desperate lengths to dissuade Judith, her sister, against this marriage.
Cassandra drinks too much, eats almost nothing, she's failing in college, she's dissatisfied with life. It is subtly hinted that she is gay and maybe this is causing some anxiety, but the reader never really knows for sure. For some reason, the idea that her sister can be happy with a successful doctor seems unacceptable to Cassandra, she feels a part of her is being amputated with this marriage.
This is a story of rivalry, connection and dependence between two sisters. Cassandra's voice, who narrates the first and third part is truly remarkable: she's mean, caustic and desperately vulnerable. Judith's voice, who narrates the second part, is full of common sense, empathy and kindness. Cassandra's bitter voice, however, is the truly unforgettable one. This is a very accomplished novel, filled with dark humor and brilliant dialogues.
Cassandra has returned to her childhood home to begrudgingly attend her twin's sister marriage to a nice, young, promising doctor. She's absolutely determined to make her sister call the whole thing off. Cassandra is witty, brilliant, funny as well as narcissistic and destructive. She goes to desperate lengths to dissuade Judith, her sister, against this marriage.
Cassandra drinks too much, eats almost nothing, she's failing in college, she's dissatisfied with life. It is subtly hinted that she is gay and maybe this is causing some anxiety, but the reader never really knows for sure. For some reason, the idea that her sister can be happy with a successful doctor seems unacceptable to Cassandra, she feels a part of her is being amputated with this marriage.
This is a story of rivalry, connection and dependence between two sisters. Cassandra's voice, who narrates the first and third part is truly remarkable: she's mean, caustic and desperately vulnerable. Judith's voice, who narrates the second part, is full of common sense, empathy and kindness. Cassandra's bitter voice, however, is the truly unforgettable one. This is a very accomplished novel, filled with dark humor and brilliant dialogues.
August 28, 2021
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In spite of its intriguing premise Cassandra at the Wedding is a novel that is obscured by an impenetrable and confounding narration.
The story is divided in three sections, two of which are from the point of view of Cassandra. Her narrative reflects her state of mind and she reports things with a puzzling intense yet unfocused perspective. Her mind jumps from thought to thought, and she often provides no context—or reason—for what she thinks or observes which leaves readers trying to navigate her increasingly mystifying thought-pattern .
The novel is very much focused on Cassandra and her identity. Characters describe her personality in a way that suggests that she is much more alluring and passionate than she actually is. Cassandra spends way too much time exploring her sense of self, providing little information or motivation in the situations that would actually benefit from more clarity on her part.
She is depressed, unhappy, unfixed. Her life seems to have spiralled out of control after her sister moved away from their shared apartment. While the confusing style does reflect her skewed perceptions it also distances readers from her experiences. So much is unsaid that it was hard to find reasons to sympathise with her or her struggles.
Her sexuality is only vaguely hinted at which given the time the book was written in, it does 'make sense' but then...why include this aspect of her character if you will barely acknowledge it? Moreover, Cassandra's obsession with her twin sister seemed far too undeveloped and unexplained. Her fixation seems the drive of this narrative, yet there seemed little substance to her relationship with her sister.
In conclusion, I was hoping that this novel would be far more innovative and entertaining than it actually was.
In spite of its intriguing premise Cassandra at the Wedding is a novel that is obscured by an impenetrable and confounding narration.
The story is divided in three sections, two of which are from the point of view of Cassandra. Her narrative reflects her state of mind and she reports things with a puzzling intense yet unfocused perspective. Her mind jumps from thought to thought, and she often provides no context—or reason—for what she thinks or observes which leaves readers trying to navigate her increasingly mystifying thought-pattern .
The novel is very much focused on Cassandra and her identity. Characters describe her personality in a way that suggests that she is much more alluring and passionate than she actually is. Cassandra spends way too much time exploring her sense of self, providing little information or motivation in the situations that would actually benefit from more clarity on her part.
She is depressed, unhappy, unfixed. Her life seems to have spiralled out of control after her sister moved away from their shared apartment. While the confusing style does reflect her skewed perceptions it also distances readers from her experiences. So much is unsaid that it was hard to find reasons to sympathise with her or her struggles.
Her sexuality is only vaguely hinted at which given the time the book was written in, it does 'make sense' but then...why include this aspect of her character if you will barely acknowledge it? Moreover, Cassandra's obsession with her twin sister seemed far too undeveloped and unexplained. Her fixation seems the drive of this narrative, yet there seemed little substance to her relationship with her sister.
In conclusion, I was hoping that this novel would be far more innovative and entertaining than it actually was.
December 29, 2022
tbh twins have always frightened me a little but these ones just made me melancholy...
A literary gem that should be a classic.
Published in the 1960’s this novel chronicles a chain of events spurred on by brilliant, gay, mentally unstable masters student Cassandra’s decision to attend her recently estranged twin sisters wedding. After crashing her convertible near their family's ranch, fuelled by pills and booze, she comes to the conclusion that her very obviously smitten sister must be saved from the worst fate imaginable—domestic bliss. A darkly comedic and bitingly intelligent look at the crushing weight of convention, at once heart-breaking and healing.
Full review rtc cos i loved this :’--)
A literary gem that should be a classic.
Published in the 1960’s this novel chronicles a chain of events spurred on by brilliant, gay, mentally unstable masters student Cassandra’s decision to attend her recently estranged twin sisters wedding. After crashing her convertible near their family's ranch, fuelled by pills and booze, she comes to the conclusion that her very obviously smitten sister must be saved from the worst fate imaginable—domestic bliss. A darkly comedic and bitingly intelligent look at the crushing weight of convention, at once heart-breaking and healing.
Full review rtc cos i loved this :’--)
December 3, 2023
I read Young Man with a Horn last summer and thought it was amazing; I was surprised that I had not heard of Baker and happy to read more. Cassandra at the Wedding did not disappoint, it is a remarkably short book with lots of subtle detail. Baker deals with the difficulties of familial relationships and the particularly close and defining relationshp between twins. However, I did not think it was as great as YMw/H; quite possibly because that covered an entire career and was remarkable in its conciseness. Baker employs a similarly efficient tone in CatW, but the entire passage of time is simply a weekend (and so the scope is slightly less impressive).
The personalities of Cassandra, papa, granny, Jane, and Judith are perfectly, inadequately defined (none are really developed, you see; they all exist mostly in relation to the others). They are a beautiful, erudite group filled with dysfunction, alcoholism, and exclusivity. This reader (I won't speak for all), found them irresistable and also snobbish and unappealing: we want to be them, be accepted by them, and simultaneously ensure that we are not, really, that un-self-aware.
Overall it is a great short read, very compelling, somewhat funny and full of insights about the ways that we all manage to "own" those to whom we are close.
Favorite quotes below:
"I'd been intending to have another, at least I'd been wondering whethe another woudl make the rest of the trip cooler or hotter, and once you start wondering you have more less decided in favor of another."
"The pure faith of a skeptic. Maybe you don't believe in concerts but you believe in music; you care what happens to it and you're willing to contribute what you can for whatever it may be worth. Probably not much."
"With men I feel like a bird in the clutch of a cat, terrified, caught in a nightmare of confinement, wanting nothing but to get free and take a shower."
"one of the things about belonging somewhere is that you can go ther without permission because it's where you belong."
"The emblem of good women is always this anxiety about drinking--other people's drinking. And I knew why. Because alcohol releases truth and truth is something good women never care to hear. It frightens them."
"'Can't you ever be serious?' gran said, and if it had been a serious question I think I might have answered it, because all I want out of life is sto find something worth being serious about. Ask me if I can ever be serious, and the only answer is that it's all I can be and all I ever am, have been, or will be. It's my whole trouble, but it's also my one certainty--to know how serious I can be about what I love."
The personalities of Cassandra, papa, granny, Jane, and Judith are perfectly, inadequately defined (none are really developed, you see; they all exist mostly in relation to the others). They are a beautiful, erudite group filled with dysfunction, alcoholism, and exclusivity. This reader (I won't speak for all), found them irresistable and also snobbish and unappealing: we want to be them, be accepted by them, and simultaneously ensure that we are not, really, that un-self-aware.
Overall it is a great short read, very compelling, somewhat funny and full of insights about the ways that we all manage to "own" those to whom we are close.
Favorite quotes below:
"I'd been intending to have another, at least I'd been wondering whethe another woudl make the rest of the trip cooler or hotter, and once you start wondering you have more less decided in favor of another."
"The pure faith of a skeptic. Maybe you don't believe in concerts but you believe in music; you care what happens to it and you're willing to contribute what you can for whatever it may be worth. Probably not much."
"With men I feel like a bird in the clutch of a cat, terrified, caught in a nightmare of confinement, wanting nothing but to get free and take a shower."
"one of the things about belonging somewhere is that you can go ther without permission because it's where you belong."
"The emblem of good women is always this anxiety about drinking--other people's drinking. And I knew why. Because alcohol releases truth and truth is something good women never care to hear. It frightens them."
"'Can't you ever be serious?' gran said, and if it had been a serious question I think I might have answered it, because all I want out of life is sto find something worth being serious about. Ask me if I can ever be serious, and the only answer is that it's all I can be and all I ever am, have been, or will be. It's my whole trouble, but it's also my one certainty--to know how serious I can be about what I love."
April 21, 2024
Cassandra is a great character, a great protagonist to follow. Getting to follow her around as she wryly refuses to engage the way everyone would like her to is its own pleasure, even if it's clear almost immediately that this is not going to go well for her.
The balance of Judith's voice is just right, just enough, not any longer than it needs to be.
The balance of Judith's voice is just right, just enough, not any longer than it needs to be.
January 6, 2025
not a perfect book but i did cry because i didn’t want it to be over. sisterhood! heartbreak! one thing about being alive is that you can swim!
August 11, 2022
Cassandra and her twin sister Judith are charismatic and sophisticated. So is their father and grandmother, and so was their magnetic and unmotherly but loving mother. There’s something low-key glamorous about the small closed-off Edwards family unit. They have an allure, they have style. Especially Cassandra, a tricky individual with her quick intelligence and domineering presence. She is the centre of gravity in this first-person narrative, and she has issues. But her voice is fantastic, and her account is full of humour, anguish, love, confidence, and hopelessness.
As her reader I was charmed but also watchful. She’s a great tragicomic figure. She’s funny in a sardonic and sad way, and often jokes her way through her deep pain. She’s stuck in an existential rut, largely of her own making.
The writing is tight and polished. The prose glides smoothly. The technique and craftsmanship is a pleasure. And it’s a soulful work that reaches deep into the abyss of the self while being an entertaining comedy full of great zingers and punchlines.
It can be enjoyed on its glossy surface alone, and it can be enjoyed for its intricacies. It’s the kind of gem that will keep on giving and yielding up treasures the longer you think about it.
A classic “NYRB Classics” classic.
Top notch shit.
As her reader I was charmed but also watchful. She’s a great tragicomic figure. She’s funny in a sardonic and sad way, and often jokes her way through her deep pain. She’s stuck in an existential rut, largely of her own making.
The writing is tight and polished. The prose glides smoothly. The technique and craftsmanship is a pleasure. And it’s a soulful work that reaches deep into the abyss of the self while being an entertaining comedy full of great zingers and punchlines.
It can be enjoyed on its glossy surface alone, and it can be enjoyed for its intricacies. It’s the kind of gem that will keep on giving and yielding up treasures the longer you think about it.
A classic “NYRB Classics” classic.
Top notch shit.
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