Influenced by the Marquis de Sade's work of the same name, an award-winning Scottish writer follows one Englishman's nearly hallucinatory obsession with an obscure woman depicted in a painting, who seems to come to life as identical twins. IP.
Thompson was educated at St George's School, Edinburgh, then read English at Oxford and wrote her Ph.D. thesis on Henry James. In the 1980s she played keyboard with rock band The Woodentops.
She has a son and lives in Edinburgh. Her novel Justine was the joint winner of the 1996 James Tait Black Memorial Prize. She has also won a Creative Scotland Award in 2000 and was a Writer in Residence in Shetland.
Sometimes, when you love a book, you want to push it into the hands of as many people as possible. Other times, you are well aware that it won’t work for a lot of people. Justine is very much an example of the latter for me. This strange and allegorical novel is a hypnotic look at the destructive power of obsession; the pursuit of physical beauty; and women as dehumanised objects of desire.
The plot follows an unnamed male narrator. He is a collector of art and a beauty obsessive who becomes enthralled by Justine, a figure within a painting whom he believes he has met in real life. As he pursues Justine, and her twin sister Juliette, things become increasingly dark and disorientating. This creates a haze in which Thompson explores the blurred line between art and artist, whilst casting a quasi-feminist eye on the struggle for control between the sexes.
The evocative, exaggerated imagery of the novel reflects the importance of art and beauty to the narrative, whilst the hallucinogenic tone reflects the opium-fuelled daze and all-consuming obsession of the narrator’s existence. There are also many literary references throughout, notably those that draw parallels with Marquis de Sade’s Justine, Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper, and Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. These various layers enrich the book’s thematic depth, creating the kind of story that is sure to invite deeper thought, and divide readers. I, for one, was enraptured by its singular surrealism.
This small book may be 227 pages, but it has short chapters and very spare writing. Yet despite the spare writing it is very...moody and descriptive. Gothic horror? Mystery? Opium-induced hallucination?
The unnamed narrator has fallen in love with Justine, whose portrait hangs in his home. Then he sees her at his mother's funeral. Finally finding her, the story gets creepier and odder, with hints of Oscar Wilde and (apparently) Marquis de Sade, who's book Justine is mentioned.
Not since Yukio Mishima has a modern writer celebrated a world of blood and night and death that fairly pulsates with such dark, sexual glamor!
The hero of our story is rich, cruel, spoiled, and decadent. His life passes in languid self-indulgence, buying fancy paintings and lying around the flat smoking opium. Then one day he catches sight of a stunning woman named Justine. By an amazing coincidence, she happens to look just like the girl in his favorite picture. Our hero believes that only art can make beauty last forever, and that sex with Justine will be even more exciting than lying around the house and smoking opium in a room full of beautiful paintings!
Almost by magic, our hero transforms from a slack-jawed dilettante to a tough private eye, prowling the mean streets of London in search of a golden haired temptress named Justine. But a chance encounter at a humble hamburger stand pushes him towards Justine's twin sister, Juliette. Juliette tricks him into a castle full of torture devices, where our hero . . . oh, but I can't go on. Read this magnificently decadent feast of sexual titillation for yourself!
'Justine' was definitely something different from what I've read before. Whether I loved it or not, I am still unsure. I didn't hate it. But I knew I wouldn't continue reading it another day if I stopped. So I kept reading it till I finished it (took me 3 hrs). Just like the opium-dazed narrators uncertainty of the identity of the woman he desires, I took 2 stars off my rating for my uncertainty.
I think I would have enjoyed this book more if it hadn't been so full of terrible typos, like dialogue running on on the same line, many, many, many typos in words, odd paragraphing, missing words. It seemed so careless. The story itself is mildly interesting, but I felt like I had read it before.
One man's obsession, unreality, dreams melding into fantasy even into the end. I thought only... the central complaint of her objectification remains. We know only the narrator's view in the end.
The short chapters really propel you through this work, don't think to hard just go with the feeling of sliding obsession and beauty overall, plenty of literary references if you do.