The Sioux

by Irene Handl

The

Genres: Fiction, Classics, Novels, Family

343 pages, Hardcover

First published February 12, 1969

Reviews

[Joanna Chambers · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm not rating books I read before I jojned Goodreads. Except this, and the sequel, the Gold-Tipped Pfizer. How can I not? It should be read. It's gorgeous and rich and heartbreaking. Devastating. For those who know me, this is not a romance and there's no HEA.

[Stefani · Rating 4 out of 5]

In recent months, I've had what I can only describe as an existential crisis related to overwhelming and historical forces that seemed to be conspiring against the future of humanity. Luckily, a small portion of that anxiety has abated with the arrival of a new administration, however, if the last four years have taught me nothing else, they've served as a potent reminder of how hate and violence have been slowly simmering in a certain portion of the population until it could no longer be contained, and exploded in a geyser of chaos on our Capital building. A violence that was pure and ferocious and terrifying, more so because it suggested a certain kind of chaos and anarchy previously reserved for zombie and other dystopia-themed novels about the breakdown of society. Anyway, this ramble is totally unrelated unless you consider it as a reminder of how historically fucked-up people have acted to one another in the name of political superiority, and how it can leave a lasting legacy of trauma (Ex: Native Americans and slavery to name a few).

So, building on that theme, this book presents a dysfunctional French family who embody all the terrible qualities we attribute to people whose own wealth has corrupted their morals. Lovely people, they've also shamelessly cribbed the Native American tribal name Sioux as a reference to their familial “tribe.” Charming. Having earned their millions via the slave trade, the Benoirs are living a decadent, wacky, rich-person lifestyle complete with pet monkeys, servants galore, and daily 7-course meals, spread out among Paris and New Orleans. This fun is all tempered by one of the the most intensely disturbing characters I believe I've ever come across in my reading, Marguerite Benoir, the thrice-married matriarch whose previous marriage, to her cousin, produced a child, Georges, who is dying of the leukemia that runs rampant through their bloodline. VC Andrews anyone? Marguerite is so unabashedly repulsive, cruel, and sadistic it's probably generous to call her human at all, a possible vestige of the family's enthusiastic embrace of the casual cruelties of buying and selling human beings for a living. In between smothering her child with the kind of overbearing attention she believes his invalid status requires, she devotes nearly every second of her dying child's waking hours to criticizing everything he says and does while simultaneously restricting his every movement, all while being completely oblivious to the effect on him. Eventually, there is a violent standoff between Marguerite and Georges involving a soupir d'amour—a whip previously used for slaves that makes a sound eerily reminiscent of someone sighing over their love interest, a horrible detail I wish I could forget—that I wondered if this woman was literally possessed by a demon.

This book is so over-the-top and ridiculous in its depiction of pomposity and arrogance it's hard to say whether the author—a well-known English actress—was merely skewering the rich to make a work of satire or was simply creating an entertaining, albeit horrific, work of fiction. Which brings me to why I actually liked this book; it's possibly one of the most outrageous and original stories I've read in awhile. Despite the fact that it's told almost entirely in an English-French hybrid dialogue for which I was Googling furiously, I felt completely absorbed in this suffocatingly small Southern Gothic, humid, insular household hermitically sealed off from the world like a bad cult. Escapism, particularly during a pandemic, can be a powerful diversion, and I succumbed to it, hook, line, and sinker.

[Nano · Rating 3 out of 5]

Libro extraño donde los haya. Se mueve entre la comedia satírica de las clases altas y una historia sórdida sobre el abuso. Otro detalle curioso es cómo se intercalan el francés y el castellano, haciendo que si no sabes un mínimo de francés pierdas parte de la acción.

Una lectura interesa te, pero no para todos los públicos.

[Carla]

What a remarkable book, told almost entirely through dialogue. (And written by the gifted actress Irene Handl.) The mangled English of the nine-year old sick child, who is the focus of the story, is funny, touching. The book is scary, comic, and somehow, mysterious.

[CQM · Rating 4 out of 5]

As a huge Irene Handl fan I was all over the idea of reading this, but by heck it was not at what I was expecting. What an unusual book.
It was quite hard to get into and took me a couple of goes, but well worth it.

[Jessica · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Sioux, the power and the abuse.
Some people use their power to do good, and some, to do exactly the opposite. The Benoirs are multi-millionaires. They call themselves The Sioux (for the tribe). They have power and they show it. Unashamedly. Armand Benoir is venerated by his sister Marguerite, who is now married to her third husband - Castleton. The story mainly revolves around Marguerite's son - the fragile, submissive, George Marie Benoir. Marguerite not only abuses her staff but she also abuses her nine-year old sick son and is proud of it. Her words were enough to mark him forever. Her brother loved her and Castleton, just married her, but she soon tests their patience when one day she whips her son, with the same whip her ancestors used on their slaves. It was so bad that the poor child had to wear gloves to hide the raw flesh for months. And yet Goerge, blinded with the unconditional, noble love that children have, still loved his "mama darling". Castleton could not forgive her for this and he tells Armand to do something about his sister otherwise he had no choice but to leave. Since Armand loved George and considered Castleton to be George's saviour, he gives his sister some attitude. And Castleton does the same... Another kind of power is the type this book had on me. Sometimes to the point that I wanted to tear the book into pieces; for the thing I cannot tolerate the most is abuse. Especially on children. I felt so much for George, it was like someone was constantly squeezing the blood out of my heart. The writing was that good, and its no wonder it was also praised by Du Maurier. A heartbreaking, mentally exhausting, worth-the-effort read.

[Dave Morris · Rating 4 out of 5]

A remarkable story about the Benoirs, a French-American family so privileged and self-obsessed that they constitute a tribe of their own. We are introduced to their peculiarities by Castleton, an Englishman who has married into the family. The book is an extended character study, part family drama and part Southern Gothic, and features one of the great monsters of fiction -- a monster made all the more fascinating because her appalling behaviour is born out of love, fear, insecurity, and arrogance. Love for her is a close cousin to hate, involves a constant battle not to seem weak, and has nothing whatsoever to do with liking the other person. "Cruel to be kind" has never been more chilling.

The Paris Review has a good in-depth review by Lucy Scholes here.

[Sonia · Rating 1 out of 5]

Me horrorizó.
Y no toda la culpa es de la novela en sí (que reconozco que está magistralmente escrita): gran parte de la culpa está también en la sinopsis de la contraportada, que vende la novela como irónica, divertida o hilarante... de tal manera que uno espera encontrarse algo tipo Nancy Mitford, o “El libro de la señorita Buncle”, o cualquier otra novela british costumbrista y satírica... y se encuentra con esto.
Y claro, cuando expectativas y realidad se dan tal bofetada, la valoración final se resiente.
Empecemos: la novela no trata de una familia extravagante, no... es una familia súper endogámica norteamericana de origen francés (la novela está ambientada en la Nueva Orleans de los años 60 del siglo pasado, y la familia está asentada en París, aunque también tienen propiedades en las antiguas colonias) muy desequilibrada y muy racista.
Es una historia oscura y opresiva, centrada en los malos tratos (psicológicos, físicos y hasta sexuales) hacia un niño de 9 años con una enfermedad congénita.
La principal maltratadora es la madre de la pobre criatura, con la total complicidad (y colaboración) del resto de la familia (los abusos sexuales, por ejemplo, los comete un primo del niño).
La novela es original, es distinta... pero aborda temas tan serios con tal frivolidad, que genera rechazo.
Frivolidad falsa, además, porque por un lado está la familia, que no le da importancia a que todos se comporten como salvajes, y por otro está el punto de vista de Castleton, un inglés de familia con alto poder adquisitivo que se casa con Mimi, la madre del niño... y descubre horrorizado (y prácticamente pasivo) que se ha casado con un monstruo y siente lástima por ese pobre niño.
Dejando de lado otros errores en la sinopsis de la portada, ciertamente el que calificó este texto como humorístico o irónico cometió un gravísimo error comercial, o se lo tiene que hacer mirar, porque a lo mejor su sentido del humor es un poco raro: no sé, pero azotar las manos a un niño hasta dejarlas en carne viva, o abusar sexualmente de él a mí, gracioso, gracioso, lo que se dice gracioso, no me parece.

[Martin Allen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Occasionally it lost me, but most of the time I loved this book.

It's a strange one - a very strange one indeed. It's written by English acting legend Irene Handl. She presents this story in the present tense, as if it's happening as you read, and I always find that a little difficult to get used to; I really have to concentrate more. The different pet names given to some characters by each other in the book were also a little confusing to hold in your mind.
And if you don't speak French, some of the French one-liners may pass over you as there is plenty of it to get your head around. (Fortunately, I do speak French, so I was okay!)

But the idiosyncracies aside, it's a warped tale of physical and emotional abuse of a mother to her dying son, laced with vicious humour and thoroughly dislikeable characters.

The Sioux, the book's title, refers to the Benoir family and centres on Marguerite, a young French aristo living in New York with her third husband, the moderately likeable Englishman, Vince Castleton.

George/Puss, her son from a previous marriage, has leukemia and lives with his uncle Armand in Paris where he receives treatment. They fly to New York to visit 'Maman' and her new husband. The disdain that Marguerite shows towards her son and his illness, both a burden to her existence, is described in the most vivid and crushing detail; the emotional and physical pain she inflicts on Georges is highlighted further by his unflinching love and affection towards her in return. Yet it is written in a way that makes you laugh and smirk and frown and sympathise and frustrate at the characters in equal measures.

It's a book, once you get used to the odd style, that reaches deep into your conscience; there is a bit of Marguerite, Castleton, Georges and Armand in us all.

Irene Handl has produced a book that is abundant with flowing description and reckless story-telling. It's funny, it's sad, it can be confusing, but overall, it's a pretty good novel.

[Louise Culmer · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a very strange novel. set in America, it is the story of a wealthy, decadent, inbred southern family of french descent, and the bemused Englishman who marries into their strange clan. Vincent Castleton has married Marguerite Benoir, a beautiful, fierce arrogant amoral woman. She adores her only son from her first marriage (to her first cousin), who suffers from leaukemia, which is hereditary in the family. Yet when he refuses to address his beloved English stepfather as 'papa' she beats him savagely, insisting on absolute obedience. With the exception of the child George, who is a sweet little boy, most of the characters are rather repulsive, and you wonder why a reasonably decent person like Castleton has got involved with them. They are intriguing in a way, but not likeable.

[Chris Roberts · Rating 1 out of 5]

A poor woman's Tennessee Williams
The Sioux tribal name should not be casually co-opted
Language is permeable, on the edge of rediscovery
And the redefinition of meaning
None of which is found in this work
I foresee, in the days
A cultural and intellectual suicide
Perpetrated on fiction readers
Author Irene Handl leading the way.

#poem

Chris Roberts, Patron Saint of Celestial Wayfarers

[Israel Montoya Baquero · Rating 3 out of 5]

Castleton, como muchos otros,s está fascinado por los Benoir o, como se llaman entre ellos, los Sioux.
Una pena que que a mi no haya conseguido fascinarme de la misma manera las supestamente comicas andanzas de esta peculiar familia francesa.
El libro tiene sus momentos, eso no hay que dudarlo, pero no ha sabido colmar, ni de lejos, la altura de mis expectativas.