From a View to a Death

by Anthony Powell

Unsavory artists, titled boobs, and charlatans with an affinity for Freud—such are the oddballs whose antics animate the early novels of the late British master Anthony Powell. A genius of social satire delivered with a very dry wit, Powell builds his comedies on the foibles of British high society between the wars, delving into subjects as various as psychoanalysis, the film industry, publishing, and (of course) sex. More explorations of relationships and vanity than plot-driven narratives, these slim novels reveal the early stirrings of the unequaled style, ear for dialogue, and eye for irony that would reach their caustic peak in Powell’s epic A Dance to the Music of Time.
 
From a View to a Death takes us to a dilapidated country estate where an ambitious artist of questionable talent, a family of landed aristocrats wondering where the money has gone, and a secretly cross-dressing squire all commingle among the ruins.
 
Written from a vantage point both high and necessarily narrow, Powell’s early novels nevertheless deal in the universal themes that would become a substantial part of his oeuvre: pride, greed, and what makes people behave as they do. Filled with eccentric characters and piercing insights, Powell’s work is achingly hilarious, human, and true.

Genres: Fiction, British Literature, 20th Century

213 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1933

About the author

People best know British writer Anthony Dymoke Powell for A Dance to the Music of Time , a cycle of 12 satirical novels from 1951 to 1975.

This Englishman published his volumes of work. Television and radio dramatizations subjected major work of Powell in print continuously. In 2008, The Times newspaper named Powell among their list of "the fifty greatest British writers since 1945."

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthony...

Reviews

[Greg · Rating 4 out of 5]

Karen said something like, “You choose really weird things to read out of all the books you have,” when she saw that I had just finished this and I was reading another short novel that maybe I’ll actually review in the next few days.

It kind of is, out of all the things that I have to read, all the books that I’d probably like to read I keep picking up books that aren’t especially high on my list of ‘must-reads’. Partially it’s that I haven’t really been enjoying reading lately, and I’m not quite sure if it’s the books that I’ve been picking or if its something more just about books that aren’t quite doing it for me lately—and if it’s the latter I don’t want to inflict this state on a book that I would really enjoy in a different state of mind.

I think it was a little over ten years ago that I embarked on the epic quest to read all four volumes (made up of 12 individual novels) of Anthony Powell’s Dance of the Music of Time. It was a kind of misguided quest, and probably should have been broken up a bit by reading some other books in between each volume and escaping from Powell’s world for a bit, but I slogged through all of them and went from having an enjoyable time with them to feeling a sense of obligation towards having to read them. It’s kind of this sense of obligation that I’m unfortunately in when it comes to reading novels lately (with a few exceptions, but even in the case of a novel I loved like the new Marlon James, there is still no reason why the book should have taken me almost two full weeks to read), and this novel actually helped cure me of a bit of my reading blahs, at least temporarily. So way to go, Anthony Powell!

This isn’t part of his epic series, but one of a handful of novels that have recently been re-issued by the University of Chicago, who have been doing an interesting job at rereleasing some ‘comic’ gems from the eras bookending World War II. See the new re-issues to complement the couple from a few years ago by Peter De Vries as an American counterpart to this.

In this book Powell is lampooning certain types of people from 1930’s England. The novel takes place at country estate (forgive my misuse of words), that is still sort of Feudal. There is a big house owned by a vaguely decrepit and ineffectual family that has been dwindling their family fortunes for generations, and surrounding the house is a small town, which is tied to the house in a way that my American mind isn’t quite sure about. But they are like the tenants to the the family. The family living in the house, the Passengers have as a guest a not-so-talented artist, which a beard named Zouch, who has read a bit of Nietzsche and has proclaimed himself one of the Übermensch.

If he is talented or not, or if anything he says means anything or is very intelligent isn’t an issue for the family he is visiting and the surrounding townspeople, they have no idea what to make of him with their provincialism, but they aren’t really all that taken in with him because he has a beard. And the beard is just weird to all of them. I guess in a way he’s kind of like a hipster shows up in a small town and tries to impress everyone with some conceptual ironic project he does. With his beard.

Most of the characters are half-absurd comic typecasts, with the rest serving in supporting roles for the action and a couple of young women who are just trapped in the absurdity around them and are unsure of what to make of the pull they have between the freedom that Zouch represents of living in London and the vague boredom of the dying days of a country life that has outlasted its shelf-life.

It’s a fairly light novel, but it was really entertaining, and had me stifling a couple of laughs on the train. So it was funny enough to get me to want to literally LOL. It was kind of like taking Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisted and crashing it into Wodehouse and letting Muriel Spark put the pieces back together.

I was actually a little surprised that I enjoyed the novel so much, there was something so over the top and almost cartoonish about so many of the characters that it felt like that book should have come apart by it’s ridiculousness, and it’s part of the problem that I have with a lot of comedic novels that after the initial set up it feels like there is really no where to go, so some inane story is just tacked on that losses steam quickly. Sort of like a one joke SNL skit, turned into a full length movie (I’ve used this analogy before I’m pretty sure in an another review, maybe it’s time to give up on these reviews and say that writing almost a thousand of these things is more than enough).

I’d recommend this as a fun book, and if I were visiting a country house to lounge around as a guest for a week or two with the leisurely wealthy, I’d probably take it along to read for an hour or so in between a walk around the gardens and afternoon tea.

[Daisy · Rating 5 out of 5]

I realised as I read this that the interwar years is my favourite era for books. I love the faded aristocracy, with their fraying tweeds and leaky roofs, the endless house guests, the eccentric family members and the fact there is always one woman character who shocks with her insouciance. This has it all and is one of those reads you find yourself laughing aloud at as you read it on the tube and quoting witty observations to uninterested friends.
We meet the manipulative Arthur Zouch who, though not charming, is considered interesting enough to warrant an invite to stay at the Passengers’ rural pile at the behest of youngest daughter Mary. His appeal lies predominantly in his status as an artist – his talent is never questioned as he never gets round to painting anyone beyond a few initial sittings – and his sporting a beard. There is frequent references to his beard throughout and helpfully in this age where every other chap has some kind of facial fuzz Mr Passenger explains that beards are simply just not worn in the country. Zouch aims to extend his stay as long as he possibly can as he believes that exposure to the upper echelons of society will ensure his success as an artist. Difficult to like, Zouch still represents the growing sense of the time, that the aristocracy are not in any way better than the average person. He feels he can hold his own in their presence and in some regards he gains the upper hand, the Passengers tolerate him despite disliking him and the patriarch acquiesces to the engagement of Zouch and Mary. Powell describes this arrogance of Zouch in a perfect few sentences that wittily puncture his over-inflated ego,
“Zouch was a superman. A fair English equivalent of the Teutonic ideal of the Ubermensch. No one knew this yet except himself. That was because he had not been one long enough for people to find out."
If you get the idea that this is a Blandingsesque comic novel you would not be completely misguided – there are majors that have disputes about birds flying into their half of the woods, pageants and dowagers who have a co-dependent relationship with their servants – but there is a more cutting and cynical aspect and some very modern elements. The major in this case is a cross-dresser who relaxes in a sequinned cocktail dress and hat, Zouch sleeps with the beautiful Joanna and then leaves the village sending a letter telling her he is engaged to Mary, and a divorced mother offers to marry a man at least a decade younger to act as cover for his homosexuality. Add to this an ending that is far from cosy with a not insignificant body-count and you have something much darker than you were expecting.
Powell has produced a book that pits the new sense of self and strength with the old established rule, features characters that are cliches but so well written they exist in their own right, is funny and offers some uncomfortable insights about relationships. I give the final word to the redoubtable Mr Passenger,
“He may come down here again and you may be sure that by the time Mary has seen enough of him she will no longer want to marry him. After all, hardly any marriages would take place if both parties saw enough of each other beforehand.”

[Lobstergirl · Rating 3 out of 5]

Arthur Zouch, a young London artist with a beard, has arrived for a seemingly indefinite stay at a slightly decrepit country house. Zouch considers himself a "superman," that is, an English version of the Teutonic Übermensch. His goal is to weasel his way into the family at Passenger Court, which he manages to do, while bedding an attractive local girl. What he doesn't realize is that the patriarch of the country house also considers himself a superman, and in this contest there will only be one winner.

Powell's writing is tart: "He was followed by a spaniel of low descent."

"Moistly, he peered at Zouch."

"Hair grew on their faces but not successfully."

"...for many years now he had remained successfully entrenched behind his own personality."

Zouch "had no great objection to children and had often found that to spend a few minutes playing with them was an admirable method of convincing people that he had a heart, if not of gold, at least of some almost equally precious substitute."

"Even the most superficial observations let fall over the dinner-table on the subject of handling the insane might have come in useful now."

 "I haven't been on a horse for eighteen months," he said conversationally, and without any reference to actual fact.
 Betty said: "I haven't for eighteen years and it will be eighteen centuries before I do so again."
 "But dear," said Mrs. Passenger mildly, "you used to like your pony so much when you were a child."
 "I know," said Betty, "I know. But look how I've ended up. I'm a warning to all girls who like animals."

I always learn new terms from the odd Powellian world of the English country house between the wars. A "monkey puzzle" is a type of evergreen tree, so-named because an English barrister once remarked, "It would puzzle a monkey to climb that." A "tuft-hunter," which someone calls Zouch, is not, as I had feared, a person with a fetish for female body hair, but "a hanger-on to noblemen or persons of quality; toady."

[Ceci · Rating 4 out of 5]

My favorite thing about Anthony Powell is that no matter how dark, or sardonic, or ridiculous his plots become, there's always an overarching tenderness for the characters. It would be so easy to reduce someone like Betty Passenger or Jasper Fosdick to a trope (and all the characters would like very much to flatten themselves into two-dimensionality, if the author would only let them), but Powell always treats his cast with sympathy, sometimes nudging the reader a bit until we too feel bizarrely fond of them.

I knew going in that cross-dressing plays a major role in From A View To A Death and was a little nervous that a novel published in 1933 wouldn't offer the most sensitive portrayal. I was pleasantly surprised. The situation is played for laughs, yes, but the humor is mostly directed at the overblown reactions. Powell mixes up gender roles (and class roles) to comment on the silliness of their existence. To those that suffer because they cannot mold themselves into the approved persona for their gender and class, the narrative has quite a bit of compassion. It's not progressive by 2016's standards, but it's very touching all the same.

Also, before I make it sound too dry, this is a really, really, really funny novel. Enjoyable, well-written, the works. There's more that could be said, obviously, (Joanna! I loved Joanna!) but I need some time to digest.

[Andrew Darling · Rating 5 out of 5]

Major Fosdick is a cantankerous old buffer who likes a spot of huntin' and shootin', and also passes the time by arguing with his neighbours about shooting rights; in the afternoons, he likes to shut himself in his bedroom and dress up in women's clothing. The Orphans are a family of ne'er-do-wells who position themselves in the High Street with a barrel-organ, the better to beg from passers-by. "The bright sunlight splashed against the sweat of their faces and the patent-leather peaks of the yachting caps that they wore. Their organ was playing Les Cloches de Corneville, and they were taking it in turns to work the handle, the unoccupied pair making it their business to importune, when it occurred to them to do so, anyone who passed by and at other times, when the street was empty, to twitch and grumble at each other." This superb novel, published five years after Waugh's Decline and Fall (which it greatly resembles in many ways, not least its dark and cynical humour) is a joy.

[Peter · Rating 4 out of 5]

A warmup to A Dance, this book shows Powell at work in the English country house tradition. The minor clef suits Powell's skills. For my money, Powell is funnier and more unforgiving than Waugh. There is none of the Catholic humbuggery.

[Jim Jones · Rating 3 out of 5]

Anthony Powell’s first novel is a bit like an ugly version of Downtown Abbey. The Passengers live in a country house where the father is gruff and dim, the mother is emotionally barely there, and their oldest daughter has returned home bitter and in disgrace from a bad marriage to a gay Italian Duke. The younger daughter, Mary, is the only one who seems half-way normal and sympathetic. The neighbors are no better—a poaching, cross-dressing retired army major with two feckless sons, and Mrs. Brandon, a faded actress who complains endlessly to her servant who vents right back at her. While Powell later perfected his style of biting humor, here it seems strained and relentless. No one is sympathetic and by the time the “death” of the title occurs, the reader feels nothing but relief that it is all over.

[David]

Always a pleasure. The wit is maturing and drying nicely in this third novel, full of villagers, landowners, fox hunters, engaging and frequently-engaged young women, butlers, eccentrics, cars that touch nearly 38mph at full tilt, parents, children, artists, orphans (in their mid-40s), cocktails, cross-dressing, beards, country estates, the far-off roar of London, and horses. Oh, and, of course, death. Curiously, even the deaths somehow manage to be mostly comic.

[Rich Murkin · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this - the tone is exactly to my taste and there are more actual laughs than the Dance to the Music of Time. But I can't really put my finger on why I thought it so good, so this is a pretty useless review.

[Jean · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read this because it was by Anthony Powell. It must be very early in his writing career. None of the characters are particularly likeable and some of them are downright weird. The setting is an English country estate in 1933. An artist is invited to come and stay and he certainly has his eye on how he can better his circumstances, aiming to marry the daughter who has invited him. He unexpectedly falls in love with another woman in the village but is pretty cavalier about how he treats her. In fact, no one seems to have any depth of emotion. The best character was the one who relaxes by dressing up in one of his wife's spangled gowns.

One does not mourn when the artist falls from a horse on a hunt and is killed. Was he deliberately given a horse that was "spirited" and known to dump other riders? Or did his host really think he had the skill to handle this animal? Not clear.

Social satire? Comedy of manners? Maybe, but not particular penetrating. I didn't spend any time laughing at the foibles of the characters, but I did say to myself, "Just you wait 12 years and see what you have to put up with then, after the war you don't see coming now."

[Sammy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Powell was a long way off from the writer he became, but his ability to describe people coldly, wittily, probingly is well on display:

"Torquil was small and dark and hungry-looking, with an enormous head that looked as if it might snap off at any moment and fall from his shoulders. He was dressed in the prevailing Oxford fashion of a saffron-coloured high-necked jumper and dove-grey flannel trousers."

"[A]lthough after their marriage some of his habits came as a surprise to her, [Mrs. Passenger] only sometimes regretted it because she was a woman with a serene temperament and most of the time she had only a very vague idea of what was going on round her. Mr. Passenger himself sometimes liked his wife and sometimes disliked her but from the earliest days of their honeymoon he had made up his mind to brood about her as little as possible and for many years now he had remained successfully entrenched behind his own personality."

[Corey · Rating 5 out of 5]

Anthony Powell's 12-novel cycle, Dance to the Music of Time, is one of the best things I've ever read. This early novel is almost as good: funny, erudite and peopled with finely drawn characters. It reminded me, often, of Iris Murdoch's lively, complex stories.

[Julian · Rating 4 out of 5]

Witty, dark, enjoyable. Clear concise writing and the occasional ambush by a laugh-out-loud line of dry drollery.

[Willo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Funny, witty but the ending is somewhat unsatisfactory and confused.

[Peter Horton · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very funny and lighthearted book.

[Jonathan · Rating 4 out of 5]

From a View to a Death, which was published in 1933, is another one of Anthony Powell's pre-war, pre-Dance novels. I'm hoping to read more of his non-Dance novels as the ones I've read so far have been enjoyable. In From a View to a Death Powell takes us outside of London to an unnamed town in the country; the characters are typical Powellian characters—artists, misfits, lesser gentry, retired Majors, unmarried young women etc. The main character is a young artist called Arthur Zouch who has been invited to stay at the country house of the Passengers. He has been invited by Mary Passenger who is trying to decide whether she likes him or not and to see how well he fits in with her family. Zouch feels that he is above all this as he sees himself as a Nietzschian Übermensch who does not need to obey the rules that others have to. He also has a beard. This is a bit of a running joke throughout the book as everyone comments on his beard and everyone, except Zouch, thinks it looks silly or strange.

Zouch was a superman. A fair English equivalent of the Teutonic ideal of the Übermensch. No one knew this yet except himself. That was because he had not been one long enough for people to find out. They would learn all in good time; and to their cost.

As with Powell's other novels we get to meet loads of characters and we eavesdrop on lots of witty dialogue. Powell flits between the characters with ease and we get to discover what they're thinking as well as what they're saying and doing. I like this way of dealing with characters where we get to feel that nothing is held back or hidden from us.

Zouch is immediately pressed into appearing in a pageant that is being organised—even a Superman can't get out of that. To give him something to do during his stay he embarks on painting a portrait of Mary as well as her young, chatty niece, Bianca. Meanwhile Mary's father, Vernon Passenger, is trying to resolve an ongoing dispute over some land with one of his tenants, Major Fosdick. Major Fosdick is a typical retired Major; he's full of bluster, he's used to getting his own way and he loves his guns.

Major Fosdick was cleaning his guns in the drawing-room because it was the most comfortable room in the house. While he did this he brooded. He enjoyed cleaning his guns and he enjoyed brooding so that the afternoon was passing pleasantly enough and its charm was disturbed only by the presence of his wife, who sat opposite him, mending a flannel undergarment and making disjointed conversation about subjects in which he was not interested.

And there is nothing that he finds more relaxing after lunch than slipping in to a black sequin evening dress and wearing a large picture-hat whilst smoking his pipe—hence the book cover.

One of the Major's sons, Torquil, whom everyone thinks is odd, is besotted with Joanna Brandon. Joanna however does not particularly like Torquil. She lives with her mother, a woman who never leaves the house. When Zouch meets Joanna he decides to make a conquest of her. As always with Powell we get some wonderful dialogue. Here we have a delightfully vague conversation between Mary and Zouch about Torquil.

   "Torquil Fosdick is a funny boy, isn't he?"
   "He certainly is."
   "I should think he was—well, at least I mean, you know—at least I should think anyone would think so, wouldn't you?"
   "Oh yes, I should think so. If they took the trouble to think about him, I mean."

There are many more minor characters in the book such as the Orphans, three buskers that seem to be everywhere; Mrs Brandon's housekeeper, Mrs Dadds, who likes to talk about her chilblains and a group of hikers headed by Fischbein who 'had a grey face, full of folds and swellings of loose flesh, like a piece of bad realistic sculpture.'

For me the real fun comes from the characters, the witty descriptive writing and dialogue but Powell doesn't completely forget the plot and he wraps the book up neatly within a few pages; this may annoy some readers but I quite liked it. I won't reveal how the novel ends other than to say that Zouch turns out to be less of a Superman than he thought. Everything seems to work in Vernon Passenger's favour by the end, partly from his own initiative but mostly from luck.

[John Reis · Rating 4 out of 5]

Arthur Zouch has come to visit the Passengers on the invitation of the youngest daughter, Mary. He is a painter, and he promises to paint her. We meet Mary’s sister Betty, and her parents. They live a moderately upper crust life. Zouch considers himself to be an Uber Mensch. He also thinks that Mr. Passenger is one as well and he must be careful around him.

Arthur has a beard which is unusual for the day. And people keep asking him why he has it. But he has no good answer.

We meet Major Fosdick-who lounges in women’s clothing whenever he can get a spot of privacy-who is married and has two sons, Jasper and Torquil. Jasper is pretty much a failure in life and Torquil is home from school at this time. Jasper is in love with Mary and Torquil is in love with Johanna.

We also meet Johanna Brandon, soon to become the love of Arthur’s life and her invalid mother and the housemaid Mrs. Dadds. This is all rather set up like an Agatha Christie novel. I expect Jane Marple to show up as a doddering aunt.

There is to be a pageant in town. Also, Torquil Fosdick has been planning a cocktail party and inviting people.

After sneaking out to see Johanna, he runs into Mr. Passenger on his way back to the Passenger’s house. They decide to walk together through the fields back to the house. They run into some hikers, Mr. Fishbein and his girl, Hetty, who Zouch knew in London.

The cocktail party goes off with a hitch. And the pageant goes off apparently very well. Johanna stays at the Passenger’s house and Zouch and her sleep together that night.

That afternoon he has a long conversation with Mary and finds himself engaged to her, forgetting about Joanna.

He leaves for London a few days later and runs into Jasper Fosdick at the train station. He asks Jasper to let Joanna know that he has had to go back to London and sends his regrets about not painting her.

In early November, the hunting season begins. A few weeks later Zouch shows up shaven.

Betty announces to her family that she is engaged to Torquil Fosdick. This enrages her father who drives to see Fosdick. He knocks a number of times and then barges in to find Fosdick dressed in a sequined gown. They have a short conversation and then Passenger leaves. The next morning box positive is taken away in a straitjacket.

A day or two later Zouch agrees to go on a hunt.

So as not to reveal any spoilers, I will end it here and say there is a death or two and several cancelled engagements.

I enjoyed this book more than I did Venusberg. Everyone wishes to live a good life but not one of them is at all reflective or sensible.

[Hunted Snark · Rating 2 out of 5]

Why do I always think I'm going to enjoy Powell more than actually I do?

In theory, I love an interwar comedy, but his social commentary almost always seems to decline into examinations of relations between the sexes against different backdrops.
Mild sex, futility, unpleasant characters.

Fine if you like that sort of thing.

So, I always seem to enjoy his first halves while we're still getting settings, snobbery, and summations of people and their foibles. Eventually it becomes apparent that there's no plot, just a meander through someone's experiences ... and untimely demise.

Skim finished
2.5 stars
Read the first half, it has some good lines.

[C.S. Boag · Rating 2 out of 5]

Such a shame. Here is a great writer who in this novel anyway deals in trivia. A silly uppity young man comes to stay, seduces a couple of women, and dies. Some one else dies as well- hence the title. there is not very much point to this slight vignette of useless middle class country life between the wars. Oh, and a farcical cross dressing refined major goes balmy. That's it. I read it for the writing. But as a novel, it just doesn't rate. How did he get this published? And by Penguin, no less.

[Gerard · Rating 4 out of 5]

A little too slight to give it the full five, but the combination of facetiousness and melancholy is oddly addictive. Early Powell is a much different creature than the Powell of the Dance. Less baroque, but somehow more animal and more dangerous too. I liked this book a lot, and will certainly reread it.

[Gary Lee · Rating 5 out of 5]

The more of Powell's work that I read, the more he solidifies himself as a wonderfully, forgotten (in the US, that is) master of Literature.

And the more I notice how both Powell's and Waugh's literary trajectory strangely mirror one another.

[Cera · Rating 3 out of 5]

A country house drama a la Angela Thirkell, except not at all like Thirkell because most of the characters are so deeply troubled. I really read the accident that focuses the ending as being deliberate, but I haven't found anyone who agrees with me, so...

[Katie W · Rating 4 out of 5]

First read in 2011