The finest and most disturbing novel so far from the author of The Dumb House and The Mercy Boys.
Twenty-five years ago a rapist stalked the streets of Cambridge and violently attacked young women. These events form the background to this extra-ordinary novel in which a young photographer must examine his relations with women, with other men and with his family at home.
John Burnside was a Scottish writer. He was the author of nine collections of poetry and five works of fiction. Burnside achieved wide critical acclaim, winning the Whitbread Poetry Award in 2000 for The Asylum Dance which was also shortlisted for the Forward and T.S. Eliot prizes. He left Scotland in 1965, returning to settle there in 1995. In the intervening period he worked as a factory hand, a labourer, a gardener and, for ten years, as a computer systems designer. Laterly, he lived in Fife with his wife and children and taught Creative Writing, Literature and Ecology courses at the University of St. Andrews.
This is a strange little book. You will get creeped out by the rapist, but this is only a backdrop to the main point of the book which is an exploration of Paul's relationships with several men and women of his acquaintance. The book centres on two statements "we are always and everywhere alone" and "we cannot fully exist without others". These apparently contradictory ideas are typified by Paul's need for solitude with his nocturnal and crepuscular photographic journeys, but also his need for human contact in which he shares hares what he has learnt, to see if another soul can capture his passions as he himself tries to capture the perfect fall of light in his pictures. His ability to fail to do this, as reflected in the story of the tourists to Cambridge who bring their huge cameras in and simply take snaps of each other in front of buildings - the human being dwarfed by the architecture, but a record that they were there, that they existed - permeates in his relationships with Penny and Nancy, and then Clive and Steve, and then his mother and father. We are left wondering how much we really know about people, how much they hide from us, and how sometimes courtesy - a distancing of ourselves from our true emotions - can cause us to be distant from those for whom we feel affection.
This book will not appeal to everyone, but its meditative long sentences - ones that ensure that, through the use of numerous subclauses, the meaning is clear to the reader - will beguile and draw you along to find out what happens.
I wish I had words to form a coherent review of this book. This book is less of a story and more of a revelation of sorts, a companion you meet for a strange journey into the unknown. This book, as I've said before, tells not a story, but places faith and expounds on an idea, to find your true self. I've never read anything like this, and I'm too happy to have picked it up on whim. Fans of aesthetic and abstract storytelling will love this. John Burnside is an author whose words tug at your innards. Let go of all inhibitions before you sit down with this book. A must read for a change in perception.
I take it as a reference to explain a murder case from a different point of view - Paul, who could be any person, you or me, an anonymous citizen.
-Positive points of the book: Although it is published in 2001, there are lots of conversations that I could have right now with my friends (what feminism is; advantages and disadvantages of the movement; people defending or denying that all men are potentially rapists...)
-Negative points: It is quite slow. Very long chapters in which the main character appears in different scenarios, in different moments... Sometimes they are memories of Paul and it doesn't look that the action progresses.
Good book, I can't say I enjoyed reading it because it's not really enjoyable but it was a very interesting and well written book. I especially liked the part about realising you are going to die at some point. I think we got some conclusion about some characters but wish there was more about the rapist. Though I guess that's the point.
Very beautifully written I just found it hard to WANT to read it since there wasn’t much of a plot point. (For me anyways) but it does seem like it would be a good read for those who like to think long and hard about life in itself.
I've got to p39 and it's striking me as a very creepy read, quite unsettling. Understandable as its about a rapist on the loose in Cambridge. ***
Continuing to the end: Everything is seen through the eyes of the main character, Paul. He is a deep thinker and the relationship he has with his father is deftly described, we understand the household that created the personality that he came to have.
I have to acknowledge that the novel is extremely well written, really creates atmosphere and tone; my only quibble is with the rapist content, - the pockets of text where we see the world through the rapist's eyes. It took me a while to realise the rape backcloth was a vehicle to explore Paul's relationships with other men and with a series of women (Penny, Nancy, Majorie and HAnnah).
As Paul is a photographer Burnside uses this as a means to develop ideas around the topic of memory.
There are detailed discussions - as befits student lifestyles - on rape, men's attitudes to women and whether sociology is dangerous!
I speed read from p166 onwards and found the characters rather too plentiful and underdeveloped, and the novel a little episodic for my tastes. Couldn't wait to finish it and not because I wanted to find out what happened - it isn't that sort of book for the most part.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
In The Locust Room, John Burnside burns a life-sized hole in the soul of his protagonist, Paul. In a French Existentialist style reminiscent of masters like Sartre and Camus, Burnside lights his prose on fire while placing his protagonist's life in a backdrop of a spree of sexually-deviant murders. In the backdrop of the 1970s Cambridge rapes, Paul's private life forms the crux of the book and his affairs with his women and his relationship with his parents are quite crucial too. Paul, the photographer, is forced to confront his relationships and knowledge of women through the lens of his camera. John Burnside offers a variety of insightful observations into Feminism (the age-old adage "All men are rapists" can now be put to bed) and Existentialism ( whoever knew that the movements of a dark-muzzled Fox in the Woods could somewhat explain the meaning of life!). Paul's mother's telling of her relationship with her husband is a deep, dark affair and is a psychological reveal to Paul's morbid and lonesome nature.
Although this story/book was a bit odd, I did enjoy it. It almost seemed like there were 2 stories in one. The first story gets wrapped up in the middle of the book, then the main character's life takes a bit of a new direction, and in the end it sort of gets tied back together. This book is probably not for everyone. It's not riveting, but I found it enjoyable.