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Holiday
The Booker Prize-winning novel from 'the Chekhov of suburbia', Stanley Middleton. Rejacketed and republished by Windmill for the anniversary of its 1974 win.
Edwin Fisher has fled to a seaside resort of his childhood past to try to come to terms with the death of his baby son and the collapse of his marriage to Meg. On this strange and lonely holiday, as he seeks to understand what went wrong, Edwin must find somea way to think about what he has been and decide upon where he can go next.
'At first glance, or even at second, Stanley Middleton's world is easily recognizable... The excellence of art, for Middleton, is an exact vision of real things as they are. And because he is himself so exact an observer, his world at third glance can seem strange and disturbing or newly and brilliantly lit with colour.' A.S. Byatt
‘We need Stanley Middleton to remind us what the novel is about. Holiday is vintage Middleton… One has to look at nineteenth-century writing for comparable storytelling.’ Sunday Times
Edwin Fisher has fled to a seaside resort of his childhood past to try to come to terms with the death of his baby son and the collapse of his marriage to Meg. On this strange and lonely holiday, as he seeks to understand what went wrong, Edwin must find somea way to think about what he has been and decide upon where he can go next.
'At first glance, or even at second, Stanley Middleton's world is easily recognizable... The excellence of art, for Middleton, is an exact vision of real things as they are. And because he is himself so exact an observer, his world at third glance can seem strange and disturbing or newly and brilliantly lit with colour.' A.S. Byatt
‘We need Stanley Middleton to remind us what the novel is about. Holiday is vintage Middleton… One has to look at nineteenth-century writing for comparable storytelling.’ Sunday Times
240 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1974
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About the author
Stanley Middleton
55 books18 followersStanley Middleton wrote 45 novels, including 1974's Booker Prize-winner Holiday. A Cautious Approach was his last novel.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 111 reviews
April 21, 2020
I saw that in 2004 the Sunday Times played a sneaky trick on the book world. They sent off the opening chapters of three Booker Prize winners to some agents and publishers pretending they were new unpublished novels, to see if a) they were recognised, and b) if they weren’t recognised, if their excerpts would get any attention. Only one of their victims wanted to see more of the work.
The three novels they used were In a Free State by V S Naipaul, The Conservationist by Nadine Gordimer, and this one, Holiday by Stanley Middleton.
The other thing I saw is that this guy Stanley Middleton wrote 44 novels and pretty much nobody reads him any more. Well, a lot of writers have written 44 novels that nobody reads no more but the idea makes me feel so tired. All that clack clacking on a typewriter. Miles and miles of ribbon.
Holiday is like Mr Phillips by John Lanchester. In that one a middle class nobody has lost his job but doesn’t tell his family so he leaves the house pretending to go to work and mooches about all day and the novel is what’s going on in his head. In Holiday a different middle class nobody has left his wife and gone on holiday and mooches about all day and the novel is what’s going on in his head.
Cue ten thousand gloomy, piquant, self-loathing observations about English life.
But right now I’m done with English self-loathing. You can have too much of a good thing.
The three novels they used were In a Free State by V S Naipaul, The Conservationist by Nadine Gordimer, and this one, Holiday by Stanley Middleton.
The other thing I saw is that this guy Stanley Middleton wrote 44 novels and pretty much nobody reads him any more. Well, a lot of writers have written 44 novels that nobody reads no more but the idea makes me feel so tired. All that clack clacking on a typewriter. Miles and miles of ribbon.
Holiday is like Mr Phillips by John Lanchester. In that one a middle class nobody has lost his job but doesn’t tell his family so he leaves the house pretending to go to work and mooches about all day and the novel is what’s going on in his head. In Holiday a different middle class nobody has left his wife and gone on holiday and mooches about all day and the novel is what’s going on in his head.
Cue ten thousand gloomy, piquant, self-loathing observations about English life.
But right now I’m done with English self-loathing. You can have too much of a good thing.
December 13, 2024
This tome is a stunning exploration of the unobtrusive intricacies of ordinary life, capturing the multifaceted emotions of grief, recovery, and self-reflection with an unusual subtlety. This book stands as a testament to the richness that can be found in the seemingly mundane. The plot centers on Edwin Fisher, a university lecturer, who seeks solace in a seaside town where he and his estranged wife once holidayed. As Edwin circumnavigates his days, the novel substitutes between the present and remembrances to his disintegrating marriage. The return to a familiar background forces him to meet unsettled tensions and his own role in the collapse of the relationship. The arrival of his in-laws, who unpredictably arrive in the same town, further muddles his effort at privacy. The narrative delves into themes of grief, alienation, and the search for meaning in life’s ordinary rhythms. The seaside setting is more than a backdrop; it mirrors Edwin’s emotional state—at times serene, at others turbulent. The novel movingly examines how individuals process pain, and how the passage of time shapes understanding and acceptance. Middleton’s insight into human relationships—chiefly the concessions and miscommunications that define marriage—is both ruthless and gentle. Middleton’s prose is illusorily humble yet forcefully reminiscent. His attention to detail brings the setting and characters to life in a way that feels deeply authentic. Through piercing dialogue and controlled internal monologue, the novelist captures the inner battles of a man caught between past doubts and an ambiguous future. His skill lies in making the ordinary extraordinary, finding depth in the smallest interactions and moments of introspection. Edwin Fisher is an everyman, a figure many readers will find relatable in his struggles and desires. His self-examination and arid facetiousness make him a convincing protagonist, while the supporting characters, including his in-laws and the townsfolk, add layers of complexity and occasional humor to the story. Middleton’s portrayal of these secondary characters is nuanced, ensuring they are never mere foils but copiously realized individuals with their own concerns and quirks. While the novel’s slow pace and focus on introspection may not appeal to every reader, those who enjoy character-driven stories will find much to appreciate. The absence of melodrama might seem boring and monotonous to some, but this is exactly where Middleton’s intellect lies: his ability to elevate the prosaic into the profound. However, readers expecting a neatly resolved conclusion may find the ending ambiguous, reflecting the open-ended nature of real-life struggles. In fine, this is a quiet yet powerful novel that rewards patience and reflection. Stanley Middleton offers a poignant reminder of the resilience of the human spirit and the redemptive power of understanding and forgiveness. For readers who appreciate nuanced character studies and meditative explorations of life’s complexities, Holiday is a lasting literary gem.
May 15, 2023
The first Man Booker winner. A story told with wry humour and poignancy. Edwin Fisher has left his wife Meg and decides to spend a week on holiday where he went as a kid with his family. He spends the week observing the other guests and beach goers. He also looks back on his courtship, marriage and whether he wants to reconcile with his wife Meg.
He bumps into his in-laws and they try to bring the couple together. The story is a slow burner but kept me interested with the humanity and the interplay with other people. Class rears it’s ugly head and the struggle for people to find meaning in their lives.
Overall an interesting book which kept me interested. I never knew that at a beach you could get a pot of tea with proper cups as long as you left a deposit. In the end you are left wondering if Meg and Edwin will remain together.
He bumps into his in-laws and they try to bring the couple together. The story is a slow burner but kept me interested with the humanity and the interplay with other people. Class rears it’s ugly head and the struggle for people to find meaning in their lives.
Overall an interesting book which kept me interested. I never knew that at a beach you could get a pot of tea with proper cups as long as you left a deposit. In the end you are left wondering if Meg and Edwin will remain together.
March 11, 2012
So, it cannot be easy to share the Booker with Nadine Gordimer, and it is perhaps that misfortune that has caused Holiday to fall into some obscurity. It is a quiet book (not that The Conservationist is loud), and has an entirely narrow focus: the inner workings of a single man’s mind, on holiday in the English seaside, as he tries to sort out why his marriage failed. He meets fellow holiday-goers, deals with the machinations of his ex-in-laws who are trying to force a truce (and piece the marriage back together), but ultimately the story is inside his head. The only glimpse that we get of the larger world is Middleton’s references to the cyclical nature of the holiday season. What is perhaps most interesting about this book is how very not interesting Fisher, the main character, is; there is nothing overly attractive or different about him that would seem to merit an entire novel dedicated to the inner working of his mind as he sifts through a failed middle-class life. But this is exactly why it warrants attention. It is an intimate portrait of a man who might otherwise not merit much attention from anyone, at all.
I will say that the writing style doesn’t fall into one of the two (very different) categories I like: it is neither crisp, simple, and precise; nor lyrical and beautiful. It sometimes veers toward lyricism but does not stay there long; it lazes in description and but then it is a bit staccato when people and conversation enter the picture. And this matches the novel’s psychological focus, a man who is in some ways – many ways – an observer in his own life, even as it happens to him. In the end, Holiday certainly wasn’t one of my favorite Bookers, but it ended up being better than I will admit that I expected it to be during those first few chapters. (Spoiler?) It is a book that goes nowhere, but in the end that is exactly what is masterful about it.
I will say that the writing style doesn’t fall into one of the two (very different) categories I like: it is neither crisp, simple, and precise; nor lyrical and beautiful. It sometimes veers toward lyricism but does not stay there long; it lazes in description and but then it is a bit staccato when people and conversation enter the picture. And this matches the novel’s psychological focus, a man who is in some ways – many ways – an observer in his own life, even as it happens to him. In the end, Holiday certainly wasn’t one of my favorite Bookers, but it ended up being better than I will admit that I expected it to be during those first few chapters. (Spoiler?) It is a book that goes nowhere, but in the end that is exactly what is masterful about it.
September 28, 2021
Another Booker Prize winner from the era when they were novels rather than tomes. Middleton and this book have largely been forgotten by the great reading public and in some respects it is not difficult to see why. Written in 1974 it is a story where nothing much happens other than spending a week inside the head of lecturer Edwin Fisher who, after separating from his wife, returns to the seaside town where he holidayed with his family as a child.
As with books of this nature – all observation and insight and no action – the pleasure comes from being able to relate to the character’s thoughts, predicaments and failings. Here this is made more challenging by the fact that it is so very much of its time. Small things alienate the modern reader, the notion of paying a deposit for a teapot and cups to take to the beach rather than having it served in a plastic cup and I found it hard to believe anyone would find Edwin attractive knowing that he had, “thick, wide sandy coloured sideboards” (sideboards here being the 70’s sideburns). Then there is the wider chasm of the gender roles. The women here tend the children and are given silent but noticeable appreciation for keeping their children quiet and well behaved, they accompany their husbands to the pub and watch them drink and opine that the only news they have to tell is that they’d washed 3 pairs of Terry’s socks that day. There is a lot that is off-putting about Holiday.
However, if one perseveres there are universal truths about family, about relationships, about social mobility and essentially about happiness and contentedness. There is the sad realisation that tragedy can tear couples apart – especially when they fail to communicate and grieve alone, there is the shame one feels at climbing up the social ladder, leaving your family behind and acknowledging the embarrassment those uneducated parents caused you. Like Mr Peanut there is the yin and yang of harbouring murderous thoughts towards your partner and desiring your freedom balanced with the realisation that no-one else quite matches up and you’d rather be back with them than anywhere else.
In the main this book is one that I feel no richer for reading but there is a section where I found myself saying aloud, “Exactly”. His description of how Edwin views everything after a death as having been made, bought, last touched while the deceased was still alive, and that is precisely what I do, and what brings me the deepest sadness; that noting of the watershed between before and after and so, whatever the faults of this book, it is for this that I found a great deal of worth in this Holiday.
As with books of this nature – all observation and insight and no action – the pleasure comes from being able to relate to the character’s thoughts, predicaments and failings. Here this is made more challenging by the fact that it is so very much of its time. Small things alienate the modern reader, the notion of paying a deposit for a teapot and cups to take to the beach rather than having it served in a plastic cup and I found it hard to believe anyone would find Edwin attractive knowing that he had, “thick, wide sandy coloured sideboards” (sideboards here being the 70’s sideburns). Then there is the wider chasm of the gender roles. The women here tend the children and are given silent but noticeable appreciation for keeping their children quiet and well behaved, they accompany their husbands to the pub and watch them drink and opine that the only news they have to tell is that they’d washed 3 pairs of Terry’s socks that day. There is a lot that is off-putting about Holiday.
However, if one perseveres there are universal truths about family, about relationships, about social mobility and essentially about happiness and contentedness. There is the sad realisation that tragedy can tear couples apart – especially when they fail to communicate and grieve alone, there is the shame one feels at climbing up the social ladder, leaving your family behind and acknowledging the embarrassment those uneducated parents caused you. Like Mr Peanut there is the yin and yang of harbouring murderous thoughts towards your partner and desiring your freedom balanced with the realisation that no-one else quite matches up and you’d rather be back with them than anywhere else.
In the main this book is one that I feel no richer for reading but there is a section where I found myself saying aloud, “Exactly”. His description of how Edwin views everything after a death as having been made, bought, last touched while the deceased was still alive, and that is precisely what I do, and what brings me the deepest sadness; that noting of the watershed between before and after and so, whatever the faults of this book, it is for this that I found a great deal of worth in this Holiday.
May 5, 2023
I bought Holiday because VS Naipaul praised Stanley Middleton's ability to write good dialogue. Holiday is about a middle class teacher Edwin Fisher who goes on a holiday to Bealthorpe, an English seaside resort to get over a possible separation from his wife. At the resort, he reminisces about his childhood, his romance before marriage and his marriage which includes the death of his son. Fisher also runs into his wife's parents who try to reconcile him with his wife. It is one of those books that is usually described as being "a novel about provincial life".
It was a tough book to read. It is filled with detail as the main character is very observant and a bit of an elitist. At times, I could not understand what Middleton was referring to - the book contains references to poems (like On Wenlock Edge: The Gale Of Life and Emotion by A.E.Housman) I have not read and composers and painters whom I was unaware of. And the syntax is tough in many places.
A lot of people described the book as boring. Middleton certainly pays attention to the minute details of an ordinary middle class life. But frankly, a lot happens during Fishers's stay at the resort. He snogs and flirts with Mrs.Hollie and Mrs.Smith, two middle aged women who are at the resort with their husbands). He has a racy and erotic encounter with a couple of plump sisters who are rubbing lotion on each others bodies on the beach. He meets a boisterous bus driver who drives old men and their nurses around to resorts, three young men who are living in a tent and another disgruntled young man who lives with his father. The book is filled with flashbacks of Fisher's childhood and marriage. As someone who got married a couple of years ago, the detailed descriptions of intimate moments from Fisher's marriage struck a chord with me. I am unable to comment on the milieu as I have not read too many post-war British novels. I read an interview with Middleton and in it he said that he is an admirer of George Eliot. I think Holiday can be compared to Middlemarch in the way it captures the minute and intimate details of middle class lives and relationships.
It was a tough book to read. It is filled with detail as the main character is very observant and a bit of an elitist. At times, I could not understand what Middleton was referring to - the book contains references to poems (like On Wenlock Edge: The Gale Of Life and Emotion by A.E.Housman) I have not read and composers and painters whom I was unaware of. And the syntax is tough in many places.
A lot of people described the book as boring. Middleton certainly pays attention to the minute details of an ordinary middle class life. But frankly, a lot happens during Fishers's stay at the resort. He snogs and flirts with Mrs.Hollie and Mrs.Smith, two middle aged women who are at the resort with their husbands). He has a racy and erotic encounter with a couple of plump sisters who are rubbing lotion on each others bodies on the beach. He meets a boisterous bus driver who drives old men and their nurses around to resorts, three young men who are living in a tent and another disgruntled young man who lives with his father. The book is filled with flashbacks of Fisher's childhood and marriage. As someone who got married a couple of years ago, the detailed descriptions of intimate moments from Fisher's marriage struck a chord with me. I am unable to comment on the milieu as I have not read too many post-war British novels. I read an interview with Middleton and in it he said that he is an admirer of George Eliot. I think Holiday can be compared to Middlemarch in the way it captures the minute and intimate details of middle class lives and relationships.
March 24, 2017
The title is misleading. I expected fun and frolic, and languid beach conversation. Instead I got exposed to the darker side of marriage, which lurks in all marriages, happy or otherwise. Fisher has come to the tiny beachside town leaving his hysterical wife behind, when he feels that he can no more tolerate their quarrels, verbal as well as physical. Meg was never an easy go lucky woman to live with, but the death of their young son affected their relationship very adversely.
While in vacation, Edwin ruminates about his wife, his life, his previous relationships and many other things. He also meets many females from various stations in life, as it is easy to make temporary friendships during a beachside vacation. His parents in law chase him there and try to patch up things between the couple. Finally Edwin takes a step towards reconciliation. ..
This was a deceptively languid, powerful read. ..made me wonder about relationships in general and marriages in particular.
Another powerful author for me to look forward to.
A special thanks to Girish for BR ing with me, as otherwise I wouldn't have taken up this book.
While in vacation, Edwin ruminates about his wife, his life, his previous relationships and many other things. He also meets many females from various stations in life, as it is easy to make temporary friendships during a beachside vacation. His parents in law chase him there and try to patch up things between the couple. Finally Edwin takes a step towards reconciliation. ..
This was a deceptively languid, powerful read. ..made me wonder about relationships in general and marriages in particular.
Another powerful author for me to look forward to.
A special thanks to Girish for BR ing with me, as otherwise I wouldn't have taken up this book.
March 24, 2017
Holiday is one of those subtle books where nothing much really seems to happen but deceptively filled with insights. At a gentle pace, we are taking a holiday with Edwin Fisher, an ordinary lecturer, delaying the possible split from his hysterical wife. So he meets with strangers, enjoys the temporary bonds and reminisces back on his love and marriage to make sense of his present situation. To compound to the situation, he runs into his in-laws who are trying to reconcile the couple.
'Everybody judges from the point of view of his own inadequacy'
Most of the book happens in the mind of Mr.Fisher and so every other character seems tainted. He looks at his wife through the images of the women he meets - be it the innocent sisters who eye him, or the flirty Mrs.Smith or the old lady Mrs.Leane who is towing the line with Fisher. It is more an introspection where he prefers to come back to his room with a book than cheat on Meg's thoughts. Meg potrayed through Fisher is unreasonable, independent and a confused person. When we meet her, we find a vulnerable scared thing who has reached out to long lost friends for support.
It made me wonder about relationships in general and the one thing that struck me the most was how every action is not based on logic. The book does not explain - 'Meg did this because..'. It just is - so real and so human. No explanations. It is a 70s book which means the independence (contrasted to Irene, her mom) is ahead of time.
Also, it was refreshing to read about a holiday as a time where you make new acquaintances and taking a break to reflect. Can't help but feel that unfortunately with the cell phones, we have reduced with the need to connect with strangers. (We atleast used to give the camera to strangers to take pic which we have done away with selfies!).
Loved the book for it's thought provoking simple prose.
'Everybody judges from the point of view of his own inadequacy'
Most of the book happens in the mind of Mr.Fisher and so every other character seems tainted. He looks at his wife through the images of the women he meets - be it the innocent sisters who eye him, or the flirty Mrs.Smith or the old lady Mrs.Leane who is towing the line with Fisher. It is more an introspection where he prefers to come back to his room with a book than cheat on Meg's thoughts. Meg potrayed through Fisher is unreasonable, independent and a confused person. When we meet her, we find a vulnerable scared thing who has reached out to long lost friends for support.
It made me wonder about relationships in general and the one thing that struck me the most was how every action is not based on logic. The book does not explain - 'Meg did this because..'. It just is - so real and so human. No explanations. It is a 70s book which means the independence (contrasted to Irene, her mom) is ahead of time.
Also, it was refreshing to read about a holiday as a time where you make new acquaintances and taking a break to reflect. Can't help but feel that unfortunately with the cell phones, we have reduced with the need to connect with strangers. (We atleast used to give the camera to strangers to take pic which we have done away with selfies!).
Loved the book for it's thought provoking simple prose.
April 25, 2013
Plain, serious and precise. There's nothing gimmicky or trivial about this book; it's just beautifully written and finely observed. I really loved it.
October 12, 2021
Stanley Middleton wrote 44 novels. Prior to coming across Holiday, which won the Booker Award, I had never heard of him. That in itself is not noteworthy; there are many authors I have yet to discover. Using Goodreads as a measuring stick, though, Stanley Middleton is not widely read. Holiday, which has the most ratings of any of his novels, has an average Goodreads of 3.34. A few of Middleton’s other novels have a higher rating, but the number of ratings is so low that the average rating is likely not a good indicator.
In Holiday Edwin Fisher has left his wife approximately a month ago and has decided to spend a week at the seaside town of Bealthorpe, where he used to vacation with his family. Visiting Bealthorpe brings back memories of Edwin’s father, of whom Edwin was very fond and for whom he had great respect. Edwin stays at a resort that is appropriate for middle-class families such as the one in which he was raised, even though it is clear he could afford a better resort. At this resort Edwin meets Hollies and Terry, who both drink too much while on holiday, and their wives Sandra and Lena, who are both attracted to Edwin. Edwin spends his holiday reflecting on his wife, Meg, and his marriage, while considering the attractions of the women around him. The sudden appearance of his wife’s father and mother, Vernon and Irene, whether coincidental or not, further complicates matters.
The entire atmosphere of this novel feels constricted, which is likely intended to reflect the society in which Edwin lives. There are urges but little passion. For the most part, we are given a view of the marriage through Edwin’s eyes only, which paints his wife Meg as quite irrational at times, but there are glimpses that there might be a different perspective. There are certainly valid reasons for the turmoil in the marriage. While I found myself interested in the atmosphere the novel created, the characters and their stories, I did not find enjoyment in the prose, which felt alternately awkward, confusing and verbose.
In Holiday Edwin Fisher has left his wife approximately a month ago and has decided to spend a week at the seaside town of Bealthorpe, where he used to vacation with his family. Visiting Bealthorpe brings back memories of Edwin’s father, of whom Edwin was very fond and for whom he had great respect. Edwin stays at a resort that is appropriate for middle-class families such as the one in which he was raised, even though it is clear he could afford a better resort. At this resort Edwin meets Hollies and Terry, who both drink too much while on holiday, and their wives Sandra and Lena, who are both attracted to Edwin. Edwin spends his holiday reflecting on his wife, Meg, and his marriage, while considering the attractions of the women around him. The sudden appearance of his wife’s father and mother, Vernon and Irene, whether coincidental or not, further complicates matters.
The entire atmosphere of this novel feels constricted, which is likely intended to reflect the society in which Edwin lives. There are urges but little passion. For the most part, we are given a view of the marriage through Edwin’s eyes only, which paints his wife Meg as quite irrational at times, but there are glimpses that there might be a different perspective. There are certainly valid reasons for the turmoil in the marriage. While I found myself interested in the atmosphere the novel created, the characters and their stories, I did not find enjoyment in the prose, which felt alternately awkward, confusing and verbose.
April 26, 2017
Despite the prosaic and downbeat subject matter (man goes on holiday to Lincolnshire seaside town and considers whether to attempt to save his failing marriage) this book was surprisingly perceptive and moving, and I can understand why it won the Booker prize. Full of sharp observation, wry humour and humanity.
February 15, 2017
I have been watching Mad Men a lot recently (no spoilers, I promise) but with the recollections that our main character (Edwin Fisher) has about his marriage, I can't help picture Don Draper and Megan. It has something to do with their fights and their passion.... Now, Edwin is not nearly as attractive as Don Draper, but it's just something about the relationship that reminds me of them.
This book is just so.... English. Stiff upper lip all the way. Even when married women are letting divorced men stick their hands down their pants on the seashore, it's done in an ever so British way.
It is essentially a book where nothing happens... and I loved it. As a born and bred Anglophile, I just loved it. The class warfare, the discussions of public vs. private schooling, the insane relationships between couples, that only happens behind closed doors, and is resloved (or ignored) over an afternoon cuppa tea.
The relationships among families was fascinating. Edwin had such a chip on his shoulder about his own father, being embarrassed by him, while trying to outgrow his working class mannerisms for his entire life. And yet, his father remains in is mind for ages. Even this holiday by the seaside, it was a direct result of his father's influence. These father son relationship themes continue throughout, including how his In Laws react to him, and try to control him, the old man and his son who live in moldering house by the side of the road... all of these parents are simply... abided. There was no real LOVE for any of these people. Perhaps the exception to this rule could be between Edwin and his own baby son, who never made it to be old enough to hate him.
This also made me wonder whether or not Edwin truly loved Meg... the most intimate moments they had came for the fiercest of fights. And as this poor woman watches her own child die, it seems there is nothing left for the husband and wife except for violence or catatonic cups of tea. Which, again, just is so.... ENGLISH.
All in all, I did actually enjoy this one. SO much more than The Conservationist, at least!
This book is just so.... English. Stiff upper lip all the way. Even when married women are letting divorced men stick their hands down their pants on the seashore, it's done in an ever so British way.
It is essentially a book where nothing happens... and I loved it. As a born and bred Anglophile, I just loved it. The class warfare, the discussions of public vs. private schooling, the insane relationships between couples, that only happens behind closed doors, and is resloved (or ignored) over an afternoon cuppa tea.
The relationships among families was fascinating. Edwin had such a chip on his shoulder about his own father, being embarrassed by him, while trying to outgrow his working class mannerisms for his entire life. And yet, his father remains in is mind for ages. Even this holiday by the seaside, it was a direct result of his father's influence. These father son relationship themes continue throughout, including how his In Laws react to him, and try to control him, the old man and his son who live in moldering house by the side of the road... all of these parents are simply... abided. There was no real LOVE for any of these people. Perhaps the exception to this rule could be between Edwin and his own baby son, who never made it to be old enough to hate him.
This also made me wonder whether or not Edwin truly loved Meg... the most intimate moments they had came for the fiercest of fights. And as this poor woman watches her own child die, it seems there is nothing left for the husband and wife except for violence or catatonic cups of tea. Which, again, just is so.... ENGLISH.
All in all, I did actually enjoy this one. SO much more than The Conservationist, at least!
March 4, 2022
una settimana sulla ridente riviera inglese, allietata dalla compagnia di gente con cui si ha in comune solo la scelta dell'alberghetto, e, a sorpresa, dal suocero invadente, si rivela non essere esattamente l'ideale per un uomo solo, in crisi totale con la moglie che ha lasciato (per sempre?) a casa, per giunta gravato dalla pena per la morte del figlio, affetto da una imprecisata malattia congenita che gli ha consentito di vivere due soli, difficili anni.
Onestamente, che la vacanza non sarebbe stata corroborante lo si poteva prevedere. Ad un certo punto poteva scapparci una storiella con un'altra vacanziera, ma alla fine non se ne fa niente.
Il pregio del libro è anche il suo difetto: l'assenza anche solo di una tentazione di pietismo si traduce in distacco. Quest'uomo non sa piangere né ridere né comunicare in maniera partecipante. Dico la verità? Mi sono annoiata quasi come se fossi andata anch'io in vacanza su una spiaggia del mare del nord.
Onestamente, che la vacanza non sarebbe stata corroborante lo si poteva prevedere. Ad un certo punto poteva scapparci una storiella con un'altra vacanziera, ma alla fine non se ne fa niente.
Il pregio del libro è anche il suo difetto: l'assenza anche solo di una tentazione di pietismo si traduce in distacco. Quest'uomo non sa piangere né ridere né comunicare in maniera partecipante. Dico la verità? Mi sono annoiata quasi come se fossi andata anch'io in vacanza su una spiaggia del mare del nord.
October 14, 2021
When I finished Stanley Middleton’s Holiday I was reminded of a line I thought I remembered from John Fowles’s novel, Daniel Martin, which I read over 25 years ago: "Happiness is an act of intelligence". I haven’t been able to trace it down, though. Perhaps my mind paraphrased it over the decades, watered it like a strong brew into a tepid tea. The following from the end of the novel – "an ending in defiance of intellectual fashions against sentimental happiness", if Fowles’s assessment of serious modern literature were to be believed – possibly sums it up, also: No true compassion without will, no true will without compassion. Dan is talking about Humanism and the desire to find common ground and happiness between people. Without a strong longing and will, the likelihood of compassion or happiness or any other positive outcome between people is unlikely.
It was a thought that returned to me as I finished Holiday, which I will say has a happy ending of sorts. Fowles had stated in an interview with Susan Onega while talking of Daniel Martin that "the whole drift of modern intellectual European life is that life is hell, it is absurd, it is tragic, there are no happy endings". In essence, happy endings in novels had somehow become intellectually suspect since the end of the Second World War.
Edwin Fisher faces a similar problem in Middleton’s novel, which is how to adapt to the possibility that his marriage has failed, or the possibility that he might reconcile, while maintaining his own sense of superiority as an intellectual. The problem for Edwin is that he is trapped between false dichotomies: between judgments about high and low culture; between utilitarian and ‘philosophical’ approaches to education; between religious culture and religious practice; between conflicting notions of what a relationship is. Having raised himself above the level of his working-class shop-keeping parents, Edwin’s self-conception has been polarised by his working-class origins and a sense of superiority afforded him by education. He not only has a teaching degree, but he now works at a university training teachers and directing philosophical arguments in the education field. It’s a role he finds difficult to separate from his identity. But now, after the death of their two-year-old son, Donald, Edwin’s inability to separate from the intellectual life against and the despairing emotional turbulence of Meg is the catalyst for separation, despite their continued strong desire for one another. Edwin has come to Bealthorpe seaside resort for a week while he considers his life and his possible future.
But Edwin’s choice of destination is, itself, interesting. Bealthorpe, Middleton’s fictional creation, is a rundown resort with a dilapidated fun park. Its overwhelming tone is morose rather than fun in Edwin’s eyes, yet the people he meets there – Terry and Sandra Smith, and Jack and Lena Hollies – believe they are having their best holiday ever. While Edwin can quote Keats ("Nature is fine but human nature finer"), and understand the intellectual precept, it is left to his newfound acquaintances to appreciate their experience of others’ company. Edwin, on the other hand, remains puzzled at his own presence at the resort among these "half-stoned people without culture or subtlety". In his mind he is due a better class of holiday, which he most often associates with travel to the continent for culture and nature: "Mountains, the high woods, fjords, glaciers, canyons, these he could afford, and yet he gawped over a hedge at a frilly curtained bow-window." Yet his choice of destination seems a somewhat unconscious atavistic decision. When his father-in-law asks him why he came to Bealthorpe he cannot explain it. But the reason seems evident to the reader. This was the kind of holiday Edwin spent with his working-class parents as a child. Edwin seems to be reaching back for something within himself ......
Read my full review of Holiday by Stanley Middleton on the Reading Project
It was a thought that returned to me as I finished Holiday, which I will say has a happy ending of sorts. Fowles had stated in an interview with Susan Onega while talking of Daniel Martin that "the whole drift of modern intellectual European life is that life is hell, it is absurd, it is tragic, there are no happy endings". In essence, happy endings in novels had somehow become intellectually suspect since the end of the Second World War.
Edwin Fisher faces a similar problem in Middleton’s novel, which is how to adapt to the possibility that his marriage has failed, or the possibility that he might reconcile, while maintaining his own sense of superiority as an intellectual. The problem for Edwin is that he is trapped between false dichotomies: between judgments about high and low culture; between utilitarian and ‘philosophical’ approaches to education; between religious culture and religious practice; between conflicting notions of what a relationship is. Having raised himself above the level of his working-class shop-keeping parents, Edwin’s self-conception has been polarised by his working-class origins and a sense of superiority afforded him by education. He not only has a teaching degree, but he now works at a university training teachers and directing philosophical arguments in the education field. It’s a role he finds difficult to separate from his identity. But now, after the death of their two-year-old son, Donald, Edwin’s inability to separate from the intellectual life against and the despairing emotional turbulence of Meg is the catalyst for separation, despite their continued strong desire for one another. Edwin has come to Bealthorpe seaside resort for a week while he considers his life and his possible future.
But Edwin’s choice of destination is, itself, interesting. Bealthorpe, Middleton’s fictional creation, is a rundown resort with a dilapidated fun park. Its overwhelming tone is morose rather than fun in Edwin’s eyes, yet the people he meets there – Terry and Sandra Smith, and Jack and Lena Hollies – believe they are having their best holiday ever. While Edwin can quote Keats ("Nature is fine but human nature finer"), and understand the intellectual precept, it is left to his newfound acquaintances to appreciate their experience of others’ company. Edwin, on the other hand, remains puzzled at his own presence at the resort among these "half-stoned people without culture or subtlety". In his mind he is due a better class of holiday, which he most often associates with travel to the continent for culture and nature: "Mountains, the high woods, fjords, glaciers, canyons, these he could afford, and yet he gawped over a hedge at a frilly curtained bow-window." Yet his choice of destination seems a somewhat unconscious atavistic decision. When his father-in-law asks him why he came to Bealthorpe he cannot explain it. But the reason seems evident to the reader. This was the kind of holiday Edwin spent with his working-class parents as a child. Edwin seems to be reaching back for something within himself ......
Read my full review of Holiday by Stanley Middleton on the Reading Project
December 4, 2014
I'd really looked forward to this, as it was an article in the Guardian earlier this year, on the book's release in paperback, that I first became aware of Middleton's work. Surprisingly I couldn't get this book in either library I use, but they did have some other novels of his, which I thought were terrific. Though this has its moments, I never felt very connected to it. I found the character of the wife, Meg, very sketchily developed and quite irritating - whereas in other books I'd thought Middleton had written complex, interesting female characters. Worth a read but not in the same class as other books of his.
January 4, 2012
In an effort to expose myself to a broader range of authors, I began many years ago to read my way through the list of Booker Prize-winning novels.
Holiday
is one I picked up a while back, and this past week I brought it with me on my vacation, figuring it would be an appropriate read. Bad move.
I have read many overly-"literary" books that I was at least able to appreciate even if I didn't really enjoy them. This was not one of those books. This was painful. Every few pages I'd put it down and read or do something else, and it felt like a chore to pick it up again.
I've since read a few reviews in which it was criticized for going nowhere, or being "about nothing". But Seinfeld was about nothing and still managed to be entertaining. This was about a man's inner struggles after separating from his wife, and coming upon his in-laws who are pushing a reconciliation. Except that the man didn't struggle much (except with whether or not to have a fling with a married woman, despite them having no apparent chemistry), he didn't seem to come to any great epiphanies over the course of the novel, and one can't really tell why he bothered to get back with his wife at all. Sorry, I gave away the ending, but consider it a blessing because now you don't have to read it.
This book was widely defended after a recent newspaper stunt in which the first chapters were sent to 20 publishing houses, and only one was vaguely interested. But frankly I think the rejections were spot on, and the people who awarded it a prize in the '70s should be examined.
I have read many overly-"literary" books that I was at least able to appreciate even if I didn't really enjoy them. This was not one of those books. This was painful. Every few pages I'd put it down and read or do something else, and it felt like a chore to pick it up again.
I've since read a few reviews in which it was criticized for going nowhere, or being "about nothing". But Seinfeld was about nothing and still managed to be entertaining. This was about a man's inner struggles after separating from his wife, and coming upon his in-laws who are pushing a reconciliation. Except that the man didn't struggle much (except with whether or not to have a fling with a married woman, despite them having no apparent chemistry), he didn't seem to come to any great epiphanies over the course of the novel, and one can't really tell why he bothered to get back with his wife at all. Sorry, I gave away the ending, but consider it a blessing because now you don't have to read it.
This book was widely defended after a recent newspaper stunt in which the first chapters were sent to 20 publishing houses, and only one was vaguely interested. But frankly I think the rejections were spot on, and the people who awarded it a prize in the '70s should be examined.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 15, 2021
I've been struggling through my Booker Prize challenge, with book after book testing my fortitude to go on. As a result, it was SUCH a relief to get to this novel. Something readable! Not overly racist or sexist or colonialist (?)! Interesting!
Despite being written in the 70s, this comes across as a very modern, introspective take on a marriage potentially breaking up. Choosing to focus on reality rather than over-dramatising, the author calmly reflects on the challenges of marriage, potential affairs, even a child dying, with absolute integrity and directness. Some of its treatment towards the wife may be problematic when read through today’s lens, particularly as she at stages comes across as more of an instrument played by her father and husband, however as the story is told from the husband’s perspective this is minimised. He is away, enjoying a week’s holiday, trying to decide how he will face the future.
A solid 4 stars.
Despite being written in the 70s, this comes across as a very modern, introspective take on a marriage potentially breaking up. Choosing to focus on reality rather than over-dramatising, the author calmly reflects on the challenges of marriage, potential affairs, even a child dying, with absolute integrity and directness. Some of its treatment towards the wife may be problematic when read through today’s lens, particularly as she at stages comes across as more of an instrument played by her father and husband, however as the story is told from the husband’s perspective this is minimised. He is away, enjoying a week’s holiday, trying to decide how he will face the future.
A solid 4 stars.
April 9, 2018
On the surface it would seem that very little happens in this novel a young man estranged from his wife goes on holiday, thinks about his family his father and his wife. However its so much more than that it, it's rich with memory, feeling and beautifully captures how it feels to be lost from someone confused by their rages, but still wanting to be in their presence.
November 5, 2020
It may be critically acclaimed but i found it very boring. I have no interest in non existant love life of an almost old man.
Boring and extremely slow.
Boring and extremely slow.
August 11, 2019
I think I had the effrontery to give this a 3 because it took perseverance to accustom myself to the prose style and I found the main character very hard to like.
September 6, 2021
Ersilia F. - per RFS
.
Siamo agli inizi degli anni Settanta. Edwin Fisher, un insegnante di trent’anni, va in vacanza nella località balneare che frequentava da piccolo con la sua famiglia. Il suo soggiorno, però, sarà tormentato dalla sua particolare vicenda familiare: dal dolore per la perdita del figlio e dal desiderio di tornare da sua moglie, che allo stesso tempo gli provoca un’incomprensibile repulsione.
Fisher è un uomo pacato, forse, sotto certi aspetti, anche troppo: perdona sempre e volentieri la sua compagna Meg, una donna complicata, cruda, selvatica, vendicativa, irascibile e un tantino squilibrata direi. Una persona, a mio avviso, con un grosso problema di autocontrollo, con una spiccata instabilità psichica e che sfoga indistintamente il suo malessere su ciò che la circonda.
Holiday è la storia di un matrimonio e delle sue conseguenze quando esso è al capolinea. Oppure, è la testimonianza che se si vuole rimediare ai propri errori, un modo lo si può trovare.
Questo è, appunto, quello che fa Fisher: fruga nel suo passato e ritorna indietro nel tempo, attraverso i ricordi della sua adolescenza, come se volesse, in qualche modo, dare un senso a quello che gli è successo.
Holiday è un libro pacato che non ha grandi momenti di tensione, è riflessivo, privo di suspense e in alcuni punti direi pure noioso, ma racconta una realtà fatta di quotidianità e di personaggi che possono essere i vicini di chiunque di noi. È un romanzo che cerca di dare un senso al dolore e al trauma di una perdita, quando si ha comunque la consapevolezza che non c’è rimedio a questo genere di cose, le si può solo affrontare e cercare di accettarle. Ed è esattamente quello che fa Fisher, con le sue innumerevoli digressioni sulla sua vita, passata e presente.
L’autore ci fornisce un resoconto dettagliato di quello che era la vacanza alla fine degli anni 70: un incontro con una discreta dose di variegata umanità. Ma la cosa più sorprendente di tutto è, a mio avviso, il comportamento del protagonista e il suo sembrare uno spettatore esterno del tempo che gli scorre davanti. È un personaggio sfaccettato, ricco di contraddizioni, ma poco incline a reagire, con convinzione e determinazione, agli eventi della sua vita, che osserva senza prendervi mai effettivamente parte. Quella vita che lui ha deciso di vivere in quel modo, arrivando a scoprire cose che mai avrebbe pensato.
Un romanzo quieto, placido, introverso, che si legge piano piano.
.
Siamo agli inizi degli anni Settanta. Edwin Fisher, un insegnante di trent’anni, va in vacanza nella località balneare che frequentava da piccolo con la sua famiglia. Il suo soggiorno, però, sarà tormentato dalla sua particolare vicenda familiare: dal dolore per la perdita del figlio e dal desiderio di tornare da sua moglie, che allo stesso tempo gli provoca un’incomprensibile repulsione.
Fisher è un uomo pacato, forse, sotto certi aspetti, anche troppo: perdona sempre e volentieri la sua compagna Meg, una donna complicata, cruda, selvatica, vendicativa, irascibile e un tantino squilibrata direi. Una persona, a mio avviso, con un grosso problema di autocontrollo, con una spiccata instabilità psichica e che sfoga indistintamente il suo malessere su ciò che la circonda.
Holiday è la storia di un matrimonio e delle sue conseguenze quando esso è al capolinea. Oppure, è la testimonianza che se si vuole rimediare ai propri errori, un modo lo si può trovare.
Questo è, appunto, quello che fa Fisher: fruga nel suo passato e ritorna indietro nel tempo, attraverso i ricordi della sua adolescenza, come se volesse, in qualche modo, dare un senso a quello che gli è successo.
Holiday è un libro pacato che non ha grandi momenti di tensione, è riflessivo, privo di suspense e in alcuni punti direi pure noioso, ma racconta una realtà fatta di quotidianità e di personaggi che possono essere i vicini di chiunque di noi. È un romanzo che cerca di dare un senso al dolore e al trauma di una perdita, quando si ha comunque la consapevolezza che non c’è rimedio a questo genere di cose, le si può solo affrontare e cercare di accettarle. Ed è esattamente quello che fa Fisher, con le sue innumerevoli digressioni sulla sua vita, passata e presente.
L’autore ci fornisce un resoconto dettagliato di quello che era la vacanza alla fine degli anni 70: un incontro con una discreta dose di variegata umanità. Ma la cosa più sorprendente di tutto è, a mio avviso, il comportamento del protagonista e il suo sembrare uno spettatore esterno del tempo che gli scorre davanti. È un personaggio sfaccettato, ricco di contraddizioni, ma poco incline a reagire, con convinzione e determinazione, agli eventi della sua vita, che osserva senza prendervi mai effettivamente parte. Quella vita che lui ha deciso di vivere in quel modo, arrivando a scoprire cose che mai avrebbe pensato.
Un romanzo quieto, placido, introverso, che si legge piano piano.
March 29, 2016
This is a deceptively simple little read. The premise seems to be bland: Edwin Fisher, instructor in educational philosophy for the UK Department of Education, has left his wife, Meg, because of domestic differences and has taken a week off at Bealthorpe, a seaside resort town (that may be an alias for Bournemouth) where he tries to put his head back together about whether or not he wants to stay married. While there, he happens to meet his father-in-law, David Vernon, a solicitor who practises family law and who now takes a rather cold-blooded interest in restoring the separated couple to marital--well, if not bliss then at least detente. Delivered entirely from Fisher's point of view, the narrative engages in deft flashbacks that depict a relationship which is not so much doomed by acrimony as it is sadly neglected by both Edwin and Meg; Middleton allows us to see and hear their conflicts all too clearly, but we eventually twig to the fact that these two are somehow already divorced from their own feelings, too much to communicate effectively with each other.
Edwin's inability to connect with others is demonstrated again in the rather pathetic fraternization he conducts with various other people who are enjoying their week-long holiday on the coast. While the Hollieses and the Smiths and the two sisters on the beach seem to honestly engage with him, even going so far as to acknowledge what a fine fellow he is before their final night out at the pub, Edwin can't do more than adopt a somewhat condescending air, occasionally slipping into his own father's voice while talking at his companions. Even his exchange with Lena Hollies, a woman who obviously has emotional depth and could provide a serious conversation from which they both could benefit, dissipates into frustrating verbal culs-de-sac.
The final meeting between Meg and Edwin is understated and exquisitely well delivered. Neither character can give an inch and yet both must if their marriage is to survive. Somehow we find ourselves very much invested in them succeeding.
Edwin's inability to connect with others is demonstrated again in the rather pathetic fraternization he conducts with various other people who are enjoying their week-long holiday on the coast. While the Hollieses and the Smiths and the two sisters on the beach seem to honestly engage with him, even going so far as to acknowledge what a fine fellow he is before their final night out at the pub, Edwin can't do more than adopt a somewhat condescending air, occasionally slipping into his own father's voice while talking at his companions. Even his exchange with Lena Hollies, a woman who obviously has emotional depth and could provide a serious conversation from which they both could benefit, dissipates into frustrating verbal culs-de-sac.
The final meeting between Meg and Edwin is understated and exquisitely well delivered. Neither character can give an inch and yet both must if their marriage is to survive. Somehow we find ourselves very much invested in them succeeding.
January 25, 2021
[rating = D+]
I was actually thinking this was going to be a really good book. But. It was well written and dull as dishwater. Nothing really new (ideas/theories) came from this Man Booker Prize-winning novel. I mean, the story is about a man who has temporarily left his wife, but it seems to deliver the same-old same-old kind of revelations. I will say, though, that Middleton does achieve a phrase or two that excite and give a pretty picture to the scene. However, he is not the philosophical artist that other British authors who win the Booker seem to be. There are minute plot branches that do not stretch far enough and Middleton has a very bad problem of making the flow broken at the worst times. He does not shift from past to present gracefully (I kept comparing him to Banville's The Sea, only Banville does it right), though Middleton rather confuses the reader with his uncertainty of place/time occasionally. Yet I will say that the book was able to evoke a sense for a want of home; the idea that a holiday is an excursion and will soon fade and be over, as if you are taking time off from a mistake and are going to return to life as if it never happened afterwards . Indeed, I can see why I have never heard of this author (even when he jointly won the Booker).
I was actually thinking this was going to be a really good book. But. It was well written and dull as dishwater. Nothing really new (ideas/theories) came from this Man Booker Prize-winning novel. I mean, the story is about a man who has temporarily left his wife, but it seems to deliver the same-old same-old kind of revelations. I will say, though, that Middleton does achieve a phrase or two that excite and give a pretty picture to the scene. However, he is not the philosophical artist that other British authors who win the Booker seem to be. There are minute plot branches that do not stretch far enough and Middleton has a very bad problem of making the flow broken at the worst times. He does not shift from past to present gracefully (I kept comparing him to Banville's The Sea, only Banville does it right), though Middleton rather confuses the reader with his uncertainty of place/time occasionally. Yet I will say that the book was able to evoke a sense for a want of home; the idea that a holiday is an excursion and will soon fade and be over, as if you are taking time off from a mistake and are going to return to life as if it never happened afterwards . Indeed, I can see why I have never heard of this author (even when he jointly won the Booker).
August 2, 2017
"Wakacje" to tydzień z życia trzydziestokilkuletniego mężczyzny, który po utracie syna i rozpadzie małżeństwa postanowił wyjechać do nadmorskiego miasteczka, w którym spędzał w dzieciństwie wakacje z rodzicami. Poprzez strumień świadomości głównego bohatera Edwina Fishera, który analizuje swój związek, relacje z rodzicami, społeczeństwo angielskie niższych i wyższych sfer, otrzymujemy złożony obraz jego życia plus interesujące tło społeczne. W tej książce niewiele się dzieje. Narracja biegnie powoli jak wakacyjne życie w małym nadmorskim kurorcie i myśli Edwina, ale to zaleta tej książki, nie wada. Najbardziej jednak poza humorem, mistrzowskim piórem, zobrazowaniem trudnych relacji rodzinnych oraz licznym bon motami, urzekło mnie to jak autor pięknie pokazał jak oszukujemy sami siebie, by chronić się przed bólem.
Wada? Kobiecy charakter, (żona Edwina Meg), przedstawiony bardzo powierzchownie. A tak ciekawa byłabym perspektywy tej drugiej strony.
Na pewno nie jest to książka dla wszystkich. Ale dla przedkładających kontemplację rzeczywistości nad akcję i godzących się ze nawet finał nie daje odpowiedzi na wszystkie pytania gorąco polecam!
Wada? Kobiecy charakter, (żona Edwina Meg), przedstawiony bardzo powierzchownie. A tak ciekawa byłabym perspektywy tej drugiej strony.
Na pewno nie jest to książka dla wszystkich. Ale dla przedkładających kontemplację rzeczywistości nad akcję i godzących się ze nawet finał nie daje odpowiedzi na wszystkie pytania gorąco polecam!
April 7, 2018
This is one of those award-winning novels that, despite its stellar technical quality, left me bored. A young man, recently separated from his 6 year marriage, spends a week’s vacation at the shore. There he recalls childhood holidays, flirts with other vacationers and contemplates his complicated relationship with his wife. I never connected with this young man, understood the motivations of the central characters, made sense of all the sexual tension among the vacationers or cared about their petty lives.
February 24, 2013
Fisher takes a week's holiday in the same English seaside town he went to as a child. Recalling with embarrassment the way his father used to interact with his fellow boarding house guests, he is surprised to find himself acting in much the same way.
An acutely drawn picture of life in the early 70s, things get much darker as Fisher mulls over whether or not to return to the unusal marriage he has recently walked away from.
An acutely drawn picture of life in the early 70s, things get much darker as Fisher mulls over whether or not to return to the unusal marriage he has recently walked away from.
August 3, 2011
An interesting look at marriage. Even though this is set over 30 years ago it still seems relatively accurate to todays society.
November 1, 2012
Edwin Fisher takes a holiday to a seaside resort following his divorce, only to find his ex-wife's parents staying there also. A subtle and engaging book.
August 11, 2021
Il romanzo di Middleton è stato premiato con il Booker Prize a pari merito con Il conservatore di Nadine Gordimer nel 1974, pubblicato in Italia da SEM nel giugno di quest’anno.
Racconta il lato oscuro del matrimonio attraverso la mente del narratore, Edwin Fisher, il quale, dopo la morte del figlioletto Donald di soli due anni, si allontana definitivamente dall’instabile moglie Meg. Meg appare una donna complessa, irascibile, ribelle, che successivamente al lutto, si spezza irreparabilmente e con lei, il legame tra i due.
Mentre la vita intorno va avanti, Fisher si prende una settimana di vacanza su una spiaggia inglese, per cercare di rimettere insieme i pezzi della sua vita. Torna nel luogo di villeggiatura della sua infanzia, tra sabbia, onde e vento, per trovare delle risposte dentro e fuori se stesso, come se il ritorno al passato potesse spiegargli il presente. Il caso vuole, se di caso si tratta, che nella stessa località trascorressero le loro vacanze i di lui suoceri. Vernon, il padre di Meg, è un avvocato dalla personalità invadente e “lavora” per ricucire lo strappo tra i due giovani.
“Il paesaggio è raffinato, ma la natura umana lo è di più” (John Keats).
La narrazione si sposta continuamente tra il presente vacanziero e i ricordi del passato; attraverso la conoscenza di varia umanità della media borghesia inglese e il percorso che, passo dopo passo, ha portato al progressivo deterioramento del rapporto tra Fisher e la moglie. Mediante questa analisi affiorano aspetti che svelano nuove verità e nuovi punti di vista, perché, come spesso capita, osservando dal di fuori una situazione si riesce a vederne il quadro d’insieme, tenendo un equilibrato distacco.
Le figure paterne, dicevo, sono molto ingombranti, non è da meno il padre di Fisher seppur ormai defunto, ma appare chiaro come i due giovani fossero molto condizionati dal l’educazione ricevuta e si muovessero come controllati da questo “spettro” del passato. In particolare, gli scambi di Fisher col suocero sono performances di manipolazione impressionanti. Infatti il finale è piuttosto facile da immaginare e viene spontaneo chiederci - almeno a me è venuto - quanta di autentica volontà ci fosse nelle decisioni del protagonista e quanto, invece, di conformismo e di risposta alle aspettative.
Devo dire che ho avuto non poche difficoltà a seguire gli sbalzi temporali della narrazione, anche perché il flusso di coscienza non è proprio il mio stile preferito. C’è da dire, però, che la prosa si insinua nella mente del lettore, infatti, è interessante l’osservazione dell’umanità in vacanza da parte del Fisher filosofo, in un periodo di cambiamento come sono stati i primi anni ‘70.
⭐️⭐️⭐️
Racconta il lato oscuro del matrimonio attraverso la mente del narratore, Edwin Fisher, il quale, dopo la morte del figlioletto Donald di soli due anni, si allontana definitivamente dall’instabile moglie Meg. Meg appare una donna complessa, irascibile, ribelle, che successivamente al lutto, si spezza irreparabilmente e con lei, il legame tra i due.
Mentre la vita intorno va avanti, Fisher si prende una settimana di vacanza su una spiaggia inglese, per cercare di rimettere insieme i pezzi della sua vita. Torna nel luogo di villeggiatura della sua infanzia, tra sabbia, onde e vento, per trovare delle risposte dentro e fuori se stesso, come se il ritorno al passato potesse spiegargli il presente. Il caso vuole, se di caso si tratta, che nella stessa località trascorressero le loro vacanze i di lui suoceri. Vernon, il padre di Meg, è un avvocato dalla personalità invadente e “lavora” per ricucire lo strappo tra i due giovani.
“Il paesaggio è raffinato, ma la natura umana lo è di più” (John Keats).
La narrazione si sposta continuamente tra il presente vacanziero e i ricordi del passato; attraverso la conoscenza di varia umanità della media borghesia inglese e il percorso che, passo dopo passo, ha portato al progressivo deterioramento del rapporto tra Fisher e la moglie. Mediante questa analisi affiorano aspetti che svelano nuove verità e nuovi punti di vista, perché, come spesso capita, osservando dal di fuori una situazione si riesce a vederne il quadro d’insieme, tenendo un equilibrato distacco.
Le figure paterne, dicevo, sono molto ingombranti, non è da meno il padre di Fisher seppur ormai defunto, ma appare chiaro come i due giovani fossero molto condizionati dal l’educazione ricevuta e si muovessero come controllati da questo “spettro” del passato. In particolare, gli scambi di Fisher col suocero sono performances di manipolazione impressionanti. Infatti il finale è piuttosto facile da immaginare e viene spontaneo chiederci - almeno a me è venuto - quanta di autentica volontà ci fosse nelle decisioni del protagonista e quanto, invece, di conformismo e di risposta alle aspettative.
Devo dire che ho avuto non poche difficoltà a seguire gli sbalzi temporali della narrazione, anche perché il flusso di coscienza non è proprio il mio stile preferito. C’è da dire, però, che la prosa si insinua nella mente del lettore, infatti, è interessante l’osservazione dell’umanità in vacanza da parte del Fisher filosofo, in un periodo di cambiamento come sono stati i primi anni ‘70.
⭐️⭐️⭐️
January 23, 2024
A tough one to rate, really. I'd never have picked it up myself, but after being handed it by my father who had decided to read some 'local' books (on account of living in Notts) and seeing that it won (that is, shared) the Booker back in the 1970s, I thought I'd try it.
I can see why I'd not heard of it. It's slow, and in many ways it is about very little, but there is layered characterisation (at least of the main character) and I dunno, but there was something sort of interesting in reading 'this sort' of novel given the time it was written. I felt like the benefit of 50 years probably enforced a much different complexion on some of the relationship issues at hand. So a marriage has broken down after the death of a young child and really that is all over the couple's failure to communicate - well blow me if that isn't exactly the sort of content that would make a literary novel even now - I can almost sense the Ian McEwan-ness in the middle-class witterings of Edwin Fisher and by the end I think had almost begun to find that interesting, despite some early struggles.
Ultimately I think there's meat to chew on here and I might be thinking about it again in a few days time (I could even return to this review). It's not really a novel about characters I relate to and indeed I find the lack of skilled communication between them all quite irksome, but I wonder if perhaps that is the point? The mental anguish of coping with your child's death probably _would_ (or maybe could) make you a bit self-involved and destructive, and the expectations placed upon males and fathers at the time of writing might not encourage a healthy reaction - looking back on this with the benefit of a 2024 mindset I wonder whether I read it quite differently?
All that said, there's also some tough to read sexism at play at times - women 'being responsible' for ensuring children are seen and not heard, or as always the pursuit of women who display a lack of interest, for example. A few 70s details like giving a deposit for a teapot or the rich litany of non-choice in the pub (bitter or cherry brandy and the latter is for the wives!) gave amusement, too.
So where does that leave it all? I guess it was - OK? I didn't love it, but I didn't not enjoy it. I think overall I might have borne a little more melodrama to improve the pacing but if it had had that, I'm not sure it would have worked.
Awkward conclusion - 3* and let's go and read a plot-driven all action book next.
I can see why I'd not heard of it. It's slow, and in many ways it is about very little, but there is layered characterisation (at least of the main character) and I dunno, but there was something sort of interesting in reading 'this sort' of novel given the time it was written. I felt like the benefit of 50 years probably enforced a much different complexion on some of the relationship issues at hand. So a marriage has broken down after the death of a young child and really that is all over the couple's failure to communicate - well blow me if that isn't exactly the sort of content that would make a literary novel even now - I can almost sense the Ian McEwan-ness in the middle-class witterings of Edwin Fisher and by the end I think had almost begun to find that interesting, despite some early struggles.
Ultimately I think there's meat to chew on here and I might be thinking about it again in a few days time (I could even return to this review). It's not really a novel about characters I relate to and indeed I find the lack of skilled communication between them all quite irksome, but I wonder if perhaps that is the point? The mental anguish of coping with your child's death probably _would_ (or maybe could) make you a bit self-involved and destructive, and the expectations placed upon males and fathers at the time of writing might not encourage a healthy reaction - looking back on this with the benefit of a 2024 mindset I wonder whether I read it quite differently?
All that said, there's also some tough to read sexism at play at times - women 'being responsible' for ensuring children are seen and not heard, or as always the pursuit of women who display a lack of interest, for example. A few 70s details like giving a deposit for a teapot or the rich litany of non-choice in the pub (bitter or cherry brandy and the latter is for the wives!) gave amusement, too.
So where does that leave it all? I guess it was - OK? I didn't love it, but I didn't not enjoy it. I think overall I might have borne a little more melodrama to improve the pacing but if it had had that, I'm not sure it would have worked.
Awkward conclusion - 3* and let's go and read a plot-driven all action book next.
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