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Участь Мэри-Роуз
После исчезновения шестилетней Морин Саттон идиллический английский городок накрывает волна истерии. Пока газеты смакуют подробности жуткого преступления, мир успешного историка Рована Андерсона, его отрешенной жены-домохозяйки Крессиды и их болезненной дочери Мэри-Роуз дает трещину. Охваченная паранойей, Крессида готова пойти на отчаянные меры, лишь бы оградить дочь от ужасов внешнего мира, а пристрастившийся к выпивке Рован пытается восстановить провал в памяти и понять, где был он сам в ночь, когда пропала Морин.
Кэролайн Блэквуд (1931–1996) родилась в богатой аристократической англо-ирландской семье. В раннем возрасте взбунтовалась против родных, вела бурную богемную жизнь, в частности, побывала замужем за художником Люсьеном Фрейдом, пианистом и композитором Иcраэлем Цитковицем, поэтом Робертом Лоуэллом. К литературному творчеству обратилась в шестидесятые годы. Ее роман «Прабабушка Уэбстер» в 1977 году вошел в короткий список Букеровской премии.
Кэролайн Блэквуд (1931–1996) родилась в богатой аристократической англо-ирландской семье. В раннем возрасте взбунтовалась против родных, вела бурную богемную жизнь, в частности, побывала замужем за художником Люсьеном Фрейдом, пианистом и композитором Иcраэлем Цитковицем, поэтом Робертом Лоуэллом. К литературному творчеству обратилась в шестидесятые годы. Ее роман «Прабабушка Уэбстер» в 1977 году вошел в короткий список Букеровской премии.
219 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1981
About the author
Caroline Blackwood
20 books269 followerswas a writer, and the eldest child of The 4th Marquess of Dufferin and Ava and the brewery heiress Maureen Guinness.
A well-known figure in the literary world through her journalism and her novels, Lady Caroline Blackwood was equally well known for her high-profile marriages, first to the artist Lucian Freud, then to the composer Israel Citkowitz and finally to the poet Robert Lowell, who described her as "a mermaid who dines upon the bones of her winded lovers". Her novels are known for their wit and intelligence, and one in particular is scathingly autobiographical in describing her unhappy childhood.
She was born into an Anglo-Irish aristocratic family from Ulster at 4 Hans Crescent in Knightsbridge, her parents' London home. She was, she admitted, "scantily educated" at, among other schools, Rockport School (County Down) and Downham (Essex). After a finishing school in Oxford she was presented as a debutante in 1949 at a ball held at Londonderry House.
A well-known figure in the literary world through her journalism and her novels, Lady Caroline Blackwood was equally well known for her high-profile marriages, first to the artist Lucian Freud, then to the composer Israel Citkowitz and finally to the poet Robert Lowell, who described her as "a mermaid who dines upon the bones of her winded lovers". Her novels are known for their wit and intelligence, and one in particular is scathingly autobiographical in describing her unhappy childhood.
She was born into an Anglo-Irish aristocratic family from Ulster at 4 Hans Crescent in Knightsbridge, her parents' London home. She was, she admitted, "scantily educated" at, among other schools, Rockport School (County Down) and Downham (Essex). After a finishing school in Oxford she was presented as a debutante in 1949 at a ball held at Londonderry House.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 262 reviews
August 28, 2024
A welcome reissue of Caroline Blackwood’s nightmarish novel which falls somewhere between crime and psychological horror. Although this lacks the wit and verve of the earlier Great Granny Webster, its unpredictable plot coupled with Blackwood’s trademark perversity makes for an addictive read. It’s narrated by historian Rowan, a self-centred man unable or unwilling to emotionally commit to the women in his life, including his small daughter. Rowan lives and works in London where he’s engaged in a turbulent affair with glamorous model Gloria. Rowan’s wife, Cressida, and child, Mary Rose, inhabit a countryside cottage which he visits as infrequently as possible; treating mother and daughter with an unfathomable disdain – for reasons later revealed. However, Cressida appears devoted to frail Mary Rose, and remarkably unconcerned by Rowan’s lack of involvement in their everyday lives. But then the sudden disappearance of six-year-old, local girl Maureen Sutton - the same age as Mary Rose - overturns Rowan’s ordered existence in ways he could never have imagined.
Biographers have linked Blackwood’s narrative to the recent loss of her own daughter Natalya. Not implausibly, it’s perfectly possible to trace a connection between Blackwood’s guilt about failings as a mother and perspectives on motherhood in the novel. But what fascinated me was Blackwood’s underlying commentary on English society, and on the impact of media representations of violent crime involving children. Blackwood’s story unfolds in the late 1970s in Beckham, a fictional village in Kent, reminiscent of those outwardly-idyllic spaces associated with Christie’s Miss Marple. Beckham with its bijou houses and manicured village green is under threat, a newly-built council estate looms over its previously unspoiled landscapes. A development that concretises economic upheavals and class conflicts of the time. The fact that Maureen Sutton hails from the estate confirms the suspicions of Beckham’s prosperous, middle-class residents: only a feckless, working-class mother would expose her child to unknown dangers; and only an estate of this kind could harbour a potentially deranged killer.
Blackwood’s depiction of the aftermath of Maureen Sutton’s death mirrors public reactions to real-life crime cases from the infamous Moors murders to the Babes in the Woods killings. The hunt for Maureen, and then for her killer, is widely televised, sparking a sinister, increasingly-frenzied response. Maureen’s photogenic appearance increases her currency, conjuring images of innocence corrupted by evil, fostering a culture of fear centred on so-called ‘stranger danger’ – even though then, as now, children were far more at risk in their own homes. The destructive potential of such cultural anxieties is reflected in Cressida’s ghoulish obsession with the grisly details of Maureen’s case; and subsequent callous treatment of Mary Rose which she justifies as a necessary precaution.
The Fate of Mary Rose was supposedly Caroline Blackwood’s favourite of all her books, the perfect expression of her relentlessly bleak worldview. It’s admirably complex but it can also be disturbingly contradictory and uncomfortable. Much of my discomfort’s tied to Cressida’s characterisation. Physically Cressida closely resembles Blackwood and/or Blackwood’s mother – both were famous society beauties. But she could also pass for one of Hitchcock’s ‘frigid’ blondes, rushed revelations about her past even overlap with Hitchcock’s Marnie. And as with Hitchcock’s blondes, there’s more than a whiff of misogyny in Cressida’s portrayal as suffocating, monstrous mother. Although, to be fair, monstrous women, and not-so-great men, are commonplace in Blackwood’s fiction. Fans of crime fiction may also find the lack of conventional closure frustrating. Flawed but thought-provoking and incredibly distinctive – think Barbara Comyns meets Shirley Jackson meets Celia Fremlin. This new Virago edition comes with an introduction from author Camilla Grudova who's a die-hard Blackwood fan.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Virago for an ARC
Biographers have linked Blackwood’s narrative to the recent loss of her own daughter Natalya. Not implausibly, it’s perfectly possible to trace a connection between Blackwood’s guilt about failings as a mother and perspectives on motherhood in the novel. But what fascinated me was Blackwood’s underlying commentary on English society, and on the impact of media representations of violent crime involving children. Blackwood’s story unfolds in the late 1970s in Beckham, a fictional village in Kent, reminiscent of those outwardly-idyllic spaces associated with Christie’s Miss Marple. Beckham with its bijou houses and manicured village green is under threat, a newly-built council estate looms over its previously unspoiled landscapes. A development that concretises economic upheavals and class conflicts of the time. The fact that Maureen Sutton hails from the estate confirms the suspicions of Beckham’s prosperous, middle-class residents: only a feckless, working-class mother would expose her child to unknown dangers; and only an estate of this kind could harbour a potentially deranged killer.
Blackwood’s depiction of the aftermath of Maureen Sutton’s death mirrors public reactions to real-life crime cases from the infamous Moors murders to the Babes in the Woods killings. The hunt for Maureen, and then for her killer, is widely televised, sparking a sinister, increasingly-frenzied response. Maureen’s photogenic appearance increases her currency, conjuring images of innocence corrupted by evil, fostering a culture of fear centred on so-called ‘stranger danger’ – even though then, as now, children were far more at risk in their own homes. The destructive potential of such cultural anxieties is reflected in Cressida’s ghoulish obsession with the grisly details of Maureen’s case; and subsequent callous treatment of Mary Rose which she justifies as a necessary precaution.
The Fate of Mary Rose was supposedly Caroline Blackwood’s favourite of all her books, the perfect expression of her relentlessly bleak worldview. It’s admirably complex but it can also be disturbingly contradictory and uncomfortable. Much of my discomfort’s tied to Cressida’s characterisation. Physically Cressida closely resembles Blackwood and/or Blackwood’s mother – both were famous society beauties. But she could also pass for one of Hitchcock’s ‘frigid’ blondes, rushed revelations about her past even overlap with Hitchcock’s Marnie. And as with Hitchcock’s blondes, there’s more than a whiff of misogyny in Cressida’s portrayal as suffocating, monstrous mother. Although, to be fair, monstrous women, and not-so-great men, are commonplace in Blackwood’s fiction. Fans of crime fiction may also find the lack of conventional closure frustrating. Flawed but thought-provoking and incredibly distinctive – think Barbara Comyns meets Shirley Jackson meets Celia Fremlin. This new Virago edition comes with an introduction from author Camilla Grudova who's a die-hard Blackwood fan.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Virago for an ARC
December 28, 2024
absolute nightmare of a book. horrible central characters, horrible subject matter, horrible ending. i LOVED it
November 20, 2024
After loving
Great Granny Webster
earlier this year, I knew I would have to read more Caroline Blackwood, and this recent reissue provided the perfect opportunity. The Fate of Mary Rose is something quite different: it’s a pitch-dark crime novel told from the perspective of Rowan Anderson, a self-absorbed, very unhappily married historian. He despises his meek wife, Cressida, and their feeble daughter Mary Rose; he visits them seldom, and reluctantly. He also has a long-term mistress whom he continually belittles. Despite all this, Blackwood takes us so persuasively into Rowan’s perspective that he begins to seem the most reasonable person in this story. Its focus is the preoccupation Cressida develops with the disappearance of a little girl, Maureen, in the village where she and Mary Rose live. This turns into a fevered obsession; then it spreads to the other women in Rowan’s life. He becomes increasingly desperate to be rid of Cressida, leading to a series of dreadful decisions.
It’s easy to see why this book was chosen for reintroduction to a modern audience. Cressida’s disturbing obsession with Maureen, fed by a relentless media focus on the case, seems to prefigure the recent slew of novels about the relationship between true crime and its audiences. It’s also a neat representation of class anxiety, since Maureen lived on a recently-built, much-reviled council estate near Beckham, the otherwise idyllic village where Cressida and Mary Rose live. (I felt the villagers’ hand-wringing over this, the council estate seen as a ‘breeding ground for squalor, disease and crime’, could have come straight out of a novel published today.) The Fate of Mary Rose doesn’t quite have the rapier wit of Great Granny Webster, and there’s a quite different tone, leaning towards melodrama (not a criticism!). The marketing for this edition compares it to Shirley Jackson, which feels accurate to me. Camilla Grudova’s introduction is also great and provides some intriguing context about Blackwood herself.
It’s easy to see why this book was chosen for reintroduction to a modern audience. Cressida’s disturbing obsession with Maureen, fed by a relentless media focus on the case, seems to prefigure the recent slew of novels about the relationship between true crime and its audiences. It’s also a neat representation of class anxiety, since Maureen lived on a recently-built, much-reviled council estate near Beckham, the otherwise idyllic village where Cressida and Mary Rose live. (I felt the villagers’ hand-wringing over this, the council estate seen as a ‘breeding ground for squalor, disease and crime’, could have come straight out of a novel published today.) The Fate of Mary Rose doesn’t quite have the rapier wit of Great Granny Webster, and there’s a quite different tone, leaning towards melodrama (not a criticism!). The marketing for this edition compares it to Shirley Jackson, which feels accurate to me. Camilla Grudova’s introduction is also great and provides some intriguing context about Blackwood herself.
October 21, 2026
Solider psychologischer Spannungsroman mit diskursiven Elementen.
Die etwa ersten 2/3 funktionieren als Literatur mit Zug zum Kunstcharakter ziemlich gut.
Blackwood platziert einen männlichen Icherzähler, der retrospektiv berichtet.
Sie lässt ihn viele Informationen einstreuen, die die Szenerie bildlich sehr gut erleben lassen. Man wird durch seine doch recht nüchterne Art, zügig ins Geschehen hineingezogen.
Der Reiz ist die Ästhetik des Unheimlichen, die aufgebaut wird. Er beschreibt seine Ehefrau Cressida nahezu klinisch in ihrem Aufgehen als Hausfrau und Mutter. Die Tochter Mary Rose wird von Beginn an kränklich und funktional beschrieben. Sie zeigt kaum Affekt oder Lebendigkeit.
Man fragt sich bereits sehr früh, was das denn für eine seltsame Familienkonstellation ist, da der Icherzähler überhaupt keinen Bezug zu Frau und Kind hat. All das wird hervorragend durch Situationen und Szenen gezeigt, die Lücken lassen.
Das Verhalten von Rowan, dem Icherzähler ist äußerst absurd. In Verbindung mit der Art seines Erzählens funktioniert das als Absurdität aber sehr gut. Ich kann das als Stilmittel begreifen.
Es treibt rasch durch das Buch.
Fragen stellen sich: wieso fährt der ständig zu Besuch in das Cottage seiner Frau? Was ist das denn für eine Geliebte die er in London unterhält? Die komplementäre Figur zu seiner Frau. Er kann sich interessieren und Feuer und Flamme für etwas sein, was ist anders, dass das nicht mit den Menschen seines direkten Umfeldes klappt?
Blackwood lässt Cressida durch ein Ereignis immer mehr in verstörendes, entgleisendes Verhalten driften.
Und das ist interessant gesetzt, denn sie ist eigentlich eine zurückgezogene Frau, die höflich ihren Pflichten nachkommt und mit anderen Menschen nichts zu tun haben möchte. Die von Beginn an als verschroben, naiv und einfältig beschreiben wird. Keine Bildung, kein Wissensdurst, nur daran interessiert ein Kind groß zuziehen und ihm christliche Werte einzubläuen, niemandem da draußen könne Frau trauen.
Rowan dagegen ist Historiker, der intellektuelle Gespräche mit seinem Freund in London schätzt.
Wenn wir hier die Frage der Macht stellen, ergibt sich eine spannungsreiche Dynamik. Denn Rowan's Passivität, pervertiert das Machtgefälle.
Blackwood konterkariert das dann noch mit Rowan's Interesse an einer Frau, über die er als Historiker eine Biografie schreiben möchte. Eine emanzipatorische Frau der Tat, Wissenschaft, des Intellekts. Ein Symbol für Autonomie und Kompetenz. Cressida ist das genau Gegenteil. Und aus ihr formt der Text eine Versteherin mit psychischer Dominanz, die definiert was andere fühlen, zu fühlen haben und sich vereinnahmend über sie legt. Wenn Empathie zum absoluten Grauen wird.
Leider kippt das Buch im letzten Drittel weg und liefert pädagogische Momente. Dass der Icherzähler nen Lappen ist, der keine Verantwortung übernimmt und keinen Arsch in der Buchse hat, muss mir nicht noch durch eine funktionale Figur des Romans ins Gesicht gedrückt werden. Diese Szenen sind völlig unnötig.
Blackwood hat den Drang die Figuren erklären zu müssen und schließt die Lücke in Cressidas Biografie.
Sie entmystifiziert die Figuren. Und das lässt den Druck, den das Buch aufgebaut hat, in sich kollabieren.
Und leider reflektiert sich der Text nicht selbst. Er bleibt damit in der Belletristik hängen und mutiert immer mehr zu einem Diskursbeitrag, der arg klischiert am Ende ausläuft.
Aus der Täterrolle eines stillen Opfers und deren Dynamik, wird sprachlich leider nichts gemacht.
Blackwood lässt Rowan selten dämliche Entscheidungen treffen. Warum er gegen Ende in der kommunikativen Konfrontation mit Cressida gar nicht das thematisiert worum es eigentlich geht, sondern eine Ebenenverschiebung vornimmt, die Cressida natürlich wütend macht, ist mir schleierhaft.
So wie Rowan angelegt ist, hätte diese Situation kommunikativ völlig anders verlaufen müssen.
Damit gestaltet sich für mich einiges an am Text inkohärent.
Da der Text sich leider nicht selbst reflektiert, bleibt es als schales Geschmäckle übrig, eine Autorin am Werk zu haben, die die Psychologie nicht ins Offene laufen lässt, sondern Szenen biegt und gestaltet, um ihren gewünschten Effekt und ihre Message zu platzieren.
Ich kann es mir aber super als Buchclub-Buch vorstellen.
Es verleitet sehr zum Realitätsabgleich und Diskutieren über menschliches Verhalten. Auch dieser bereits von mir erwähnte schief stehende feministische Drive bietet Gesprächsmaterial.
Aber alles nichts was sprachlich in einer eigenständigen Kunstform verhandelt würde, sondern nur etwas, das ich als Diskursbeitrag aufgreifen und als Leser mit meiner Erfahrungswelt und Meinung weiter bearbeiten kann.
Da ich aber weiß, dass genau das die meisten von euch reizt, würde ich sagen, ist das Buch eine Leseempfehlung, mit leichten bis großen (je nach Perspektive) Abstrichen zum Ende hin.
Ich habe jetzt mehrfach die Sternebewertung verändert. Die ersten 2/3 waren 4 Sterne würdig. Allerdings verhagelt der Rest aus ästhetischer Sicht so einiges. Ich neige selber dazu den Realitätsabgleich und meine Subjektivität hier beim lesen zu stark mitzubewerten. Als Spannungsroman der mich unterhält ist es durchaus gelungen. Allerdings habe ich Gestrein für "Im ersten Licht" nur 2,5 Sterne gegeben, aus ziemlich ähnlichen Gründen. Daher kann ich "das Schicksal von Mary Rose" als Gesamtpaket mit dem Blick auf seinen Kunstcharakter nicht besser bewerten.
Das Buch hat tatsächlich jetzt den Nachteil in meiner Bewertungswelt, nicht entschieden ein trivialer Unterhaltungsroman zu sein. Ich muss hier leider so paradox streng sein, was mir auch nicht so ganz gefällt.
Die etwa ersten 2/3 funktionieren als Literatur mit Zug zum Kunstcharakter ziemlich gut.
Blackwood platziert einen männlichen Icherzähler, der retrospektiv berichtet.
Sie lässt ihn viele Informationen einstreuen, die die Szenerie bildlich sehr gut erleben lassen. Man wird durch seine doch recht nüchterne Art, zügig ins Geschehen hineingezogen.
Der Reiz ist die Ästhetik des Unheimlichen, die aufgebaut wird. Er beschreibt seine Ehefrau Cressida nahezu klinisch in ihrem Aufgehen als Hausfrau und Mutter. Die Tochter Mary Rose wird von Beginn an kränklich und funktional beschrieben. Sie zeigt kaum Affekt oder Lebendigkeit.
Man fragt sich bereits sehr früh, was das denn für eine seltsame Familienkonstellation ist, da der Icherzähler überhaupt keinen Bezug zu Frau und Kind hat. All das wird hervorragend durch Situationen und Szenen gezeigt, die Lücken lassen.
Das Verhalten von Rowan, dem Icherzähler ist äußerst absurd. In Verbindung mit der Art seines Erzählens funktioniert das als Absurdität aber sehr gut. Ich kann das als Stilmittel begreifen.
Es treibt rasch durch das Buch.
Fragen stellen sich: wieso fährt der ständig zu Besuch in das Cottage seiner Frau? Was ist das denn für eine Geliebte die er in London unterhält? Die komplementäre Figur zu seiner Frau. Er kann sich interessieren und Feuer und Flamme für etwas sein, was ist anders, dass das nicht mit den Menschen seines direkten Umfeldes klappt?
Blackwood lässt Cressida durch ein Ereignis immer mehr in verstörendes, entgleisendes Verhalten driften.
Und das ist interessant gesetzt, denn sie ist eigentlich eine zurückgezogene Frau, die höflich ihren Pflichten nachkommt und mit anderen Menschen nichts zu tun haben möchte. Die von Beginn an als verschroben, naiv und einfältig beschreiben wird. Keine Bildung, kein Wissensdurst, nur daran interessiert ein Kind groß zuziehen und ihm christliche Werte einzubläuen, niemandem da draußen könne Frau trauen.
Rowan dagegen ist Historiker, der intellektuelle Gespräche mit seinem Freund in London schätzt.
Wenn wir hier die Frage der Macht stellen, ergibt sich eine spannungsreiche Dynamik. Denn Rowan's Passivität, pervertiert das Machtgefälle.
Blackwood konterkariert das dann noch mit Rowan's Interesse an einer Frau, über die er als Historiker eine Biografie schreiben möchte. Eine emanzipatorische Frau der Tat, Wissenschaft, des Intellekts. Ein Symbol für Autonomie und Kompetenz. Cressida ist das genau Gegenteil. Und aus ihr formt der Text eine Versteherin mit psychischer Dominanz, die definiert was andere fühlen, zu fühlen haben und sich vereinnahmend über sie legt. Wenn Empathie zum absoluten Grauen wird.
Leider kippt das Buch im letzten Drittel weg und liefert pädagogische Momente. Dass der Icherzähler nen Lappen ist, der keine Verantwortung übernimmt und keinen Arsch in der Buchse hat, muss mir nicht noch durch eine funktionale Figur des Romans ins Gesicht gedrückt werden. Diese Szenen sind völlig unnötig.
Blackwood hat den Drang die Figuren erklären zu müssen und schließt die Lücke in Cressidas Biografie.
Sie entmystifiziert die Figuren. Und das lässt den Druck, den das Buch aufgebaut hat, in sich kollabieren.
Und leider reflektiert sich der Text nicht selbst. Er bleibt damit in der Belletristik hängen und mutiert immer mehr zu einem Diskursbeitrag, der arg klischiert am Ende ausläuft.
Aus der Täterrolle eines stillen Opfers und deren Dynamik, wird sprachlich leider nichts gemacht.
Blackwood lässt Rowan selten dämliche Entscheidungen treffen. Warum er gegen Ende in der kommunikativen Konfrontation mit Cressida gar nicht das thematisiert worum es eigentlich geht, sondern eine Ebenenverschiebung vornimmt, die Cressida natürlich wütend macht, ist mir schleierhaft.
So wie Rowan angelegt ist, hätte diese Situation kommunikativ völlig anders verlaufen müssen.
Damit gestaltet sich für mich einiges an am Text inkohärent.
Da der Text sich leider nicht selbst reflektiert, bleibt es als schales Geschmäckle übrig, eine Autorin am Werk zu haben, die die Psychologie nicht ins Offene laufen lässt, sondern Szenen biegt und gestaltet, um ihren gewünschten Effekt und ihre Message zu platzieren.
Ich kann es mir aber super als Buchclub-Buch vorstellen.
Es verleitet sehr zum Realitätsabgleich und Diskutieren über menschliches Verhalten. Auch dieser bereits von mir erwähnte schief stehende feministische Drive bietet Gesprächsmaterial.
Aber alles nichts was sprachlich in einer eigenständigen Kunstform verhandelt würde, sondern nur etwas, das ich als Diskursbeitrag aufgreifen und als Leser mit meiner Erfahrungswelt und Meinung weiter bearbeiten kann.
Da ich aber weiß, dass genau das die meisten von euch reizt, würde ich sagen, ist das Buch eine Leseempfehlung, mit leichten bis großen (je nach Perspektive) Abstrichen zum Ende hin.
Ich habe jetzt mehrfach die Sternebewertung verändert. Die ersten 2/3 waren 4 Sterne würdig. Allerdings verhagelt der Rest aus ästhetischer Sicht so einiges. Ich neige selber dazu den Realitätsabgleich und meine Subjektivität hier beim lesen zu stark mitzubewerten. Als Spannungsroman der mich unterhält ist es durchaus gelungen. Allerdings habe ich Gestrein für "Im ersten Licht" nur 2,5 Sterne gegeben, aus ziemlich ähnlichen Gründen. Daher kann ich "das Schicksal von Mary Rose" als Gesamtpaket mit dem Blick auf seinen Kunstcharakter nicht besser bewerten.
Das Buch hat tatsächlich jetzt den Nachteil in meiner Bewertungswelt, nicht entschieden ein trivialer Unterhaltungsroman zu sein. Ich muss hier leider so paradox streng sein, was mir auch nicht so ganz gefällt.
April 16, 2026
Mamme da incubo, per tacer dei padri.
Ci sono romanzi che costruiscono la tensione con misura, e altri che la spingono fino al limite. Il destino di Mary Rose appartiene decisamente alla seconda categoria: una storia cupa, compatta, scritta con una prosa elegante e controllata, capace di creare un’atmosfera costante di inquietudine domestica.
Eppure, proprio questa intensità finisce per ritorcersi contro il romanzo.
Il ritratto di Cressida, madre ossessiva e progressivamente destabilizzata, è il cuore del libro, ma anche il suo punto più fragile. L’insistenza sulla sua deriva psicologica è così marcata da trasformarla, a tratti, in una figura quasi caricaturale: più simbolo della maternità deviata che persona reale. Il risultato è che l’inquietudine perde parte della sua forza, perché ciò che dovrebbe risultare disturbante scivola verso l’eccesso.
Ma l’aspetto forse più interessante – e meno immediato – sta nel punto di vista. La storia è filtrata attraverso Rowan, il padre: uno sguardo maschile costruito però da una penna femminile. Ed è qui che il romanzo si fa davvero spiazzante.
Rowan non è un contrappeso alla follia di Cressida, né una figura di protezione. Al contrario, è l’incarnazione dell’inerzia: distante, passivo, incapace di assumere un ruolo attivo anche quando la situazione lo richiederebbe. E quando finalmente tenta di agire, lo fa in modo goffo e fallimentare, confermando la sua inadeguatezza.
Se Cressida è una “madre da incubo”, Rowan non è da meno: la sua colpa non è l’eccesso, ma il vuoto. La sua ignavia, il suo disinteresse, il suo essere padre “per caso” lo rendono altrettanto perturbante. Il romanzo, così, non racconta solo una maternità distorta, ma mette in scena un fallimento genitoriale doppio e speculare: da un lato l’ossessione che soffoca, dall’altro l’assenza che abbandona.
È proprio questa dinamica a risultare, alla fine, più riuscita della stessa costruzione psicologica dei personaggi. Dove Cressida eccede, Rowan svuota. Dove una invade, l’altro si ritrae. E in mezzo resta Mary Rose, figura fragile schiacciata da entrambe le forze.
Un romanzo che si legge con tensione e interesse, ma che lascia anche la sensazione di un’occasione mancata: quella di trasformare personaggi estremi in esseri umani davvero credibili, invece che in figure al limite dell’allegoria.
Inquietante, sì. Ma più per ciò che suggerisce che per ciò che riesce davvero a incarnare.
Ci sono romanzi che costruiscono la tensione con misura, e altri che la spingono fino al limite. Il destino di Mary Rose appartiene decisamente alla seconda categoria: una storia cupa, compatta, scritta con una prosa elegante e controllata, capace di creare un’atmosfera costante di inquietudine domestica.
Eppure, proprio questa intensità finisce per ritorcersi contro il romanzo.
Il ritratto di Cressida, madre ossessiva e progressivamente destabilizzata, è il cuore del libro, ma anche il suo punto più fragile. L’insistenza sulla sua deriva psicologica è così marcata da trasformarla, a tratti, in una figura quasi caricaturale: più simbolo della maternità deviata che persona reale. Il risultato è che l’inquietudine perde parte della sua forza, perché ciò che dovrebbe risultare disturbante scivola verso l’eccesso.
Ma l’aspetto forse più interessante – e meno immediato – sta nel punto di vista. La storia è filtrata attraverso Rowan, il padre: uno sguardo maschile costruito però da una penna femminile. Ed è qui che il romanzo si fa davvero spiazzante.
Rowan non è un contrappeso alla follia di Cressida, né una figura di protezione. Al contrario, è l’incarnazione dell’inerzia: distante, passivo, incapace di assumere un ruolo attivo anche quando la situazione lo richiederebbe. E quando finalmente tenta di agire, lo fa in modo goffo e fallimentare, confermando la sua inadeguatezza.
Se Cressida è una “madre da incubo”, Rowan non è da meno: la sua colpa non è l’eccesso, ma il vuoto. La sua ignavia, il suo disinteresse, il suo essere padre “per caso” lo rendono altrettanto perturbante. Il romanzo, così, non racconta solo una maternità distorta, ma mette in scena un fallimento genitoriale doppio e speculare: da un lato l’ossessione che soffoca, dall’altro l’assenza che abbandona.
È proprio questa dinamica a risultare, alla fine, più riuscita della stessa costruzione psicologica dei personaggi. Dove Cressida eccede, Rowan svuota. Dove una invade, l’altro si ritrae. E in mezzo resta Mary Rose, figura fragile schiacciata da entrambe le forze.
Un romanzo che si legge con tensione e interesse, ma che lascia anche la sensazione di un’occasione mancata: quella di trasformare personaggi estremi in esseri umani davvero credibili, invece che in figure al limite dell’allegoria.
Inquietante, sì. Ma più per ciò che suggerisce che per ciò che riesce davvero a incarnare.
August 10, 2024
I think if you’ve got a surname like Blackwood, you’ve got to write things that are just a bit horrifying.
Initially published in 1981, THE FATE OF MARY ROSE concerns the disappearance of young Maureen Sutton from a sleepy village in Kent, and historian Rowan Anderson, dragged into the hysteria against his will by his eccentric wife Cressida. Soon fixated on the news, Cressida’s unsettling demeanour turns sinister as she sets about protecting their sickly daughter, Mary Rose, from the same fate - and perhaps even from her husband.
When you’re putting together a reprint list for publication, an important aspect to consider is why you’ve chosen to reprint the text in question within today’s market: when we designate a book to be a classic, we often do it not only due to the literary value we deem it to have, but due to the cultural value. In short, when we decide a book’s a classic, it’s got to mean something to us today in order to justify it’s continuing presence on shelves. In this regard, THE FATE OF MARY ROSE feels like not only a judicious, but an obvious choice for republication. If you boil the plot down to its very basic elements, it concerns how we engage with crime and its reporting, how boundaries are violated within the intimate nature of news as we receive it, and the paranoia which can be sustained through an unhealthy obsession with dark news; while not in the age of social media, where armchair detectives have more power than ever, THE FATE OF MARY ROSE demonstrates precisely how these are constant features of engagement with crime, and how this paranoid can weasel into environments where most consider themselves safe.
In terms of protagonist, Blackwood does a great job of making Rowan a morally grey unreliable narrator: which is to say that she does a really effective job of making him deeply, deeply irritating. From the very first page, he’s overwhelmingly narcissistic, not only in his skewed priorities, but in how he treats the people around him. His alimony provisions are phrased entirely through how inconvenient they are to him, his disgust towards Cressida is visible from the outset, his affair with the glamourous Gloria is one-sided and selfish, and he is more than happy to place his timid secretary in danger for his own personal comfort. Quite simply, this guy stinks. A common thread throughout, and often demonstrated by Rowan, also concerns a common dominating factor of how patriarchy asserts itself: by similarly asserting that femininity, in all its expressions, is somehow wrong and deviant. Alongside his mocking of Cressida’s performances of domesticity at the outset, he shows abject contempt for the articles Gloria writes (deemed vapid in comparison to his own historical research), and while the women of the village grow increasingly terrified at the prospect of a perverted murderer lurking in plain sight, Rowan implies that this concern towards the prospect of sexual violence is somehow hysterical. Interestingly, there are very few male characters within the novel, and those who do exist are often unspeaking or reduced to named references in dialogue. This in turn gives the impression of a reverse Bechdel Test at work (for those unfamiliar, the Bechdel Test is a hypothetical piece of light media criticism established by cartoonist Alison Bechdel, in which a piece of media passes the test by containing two named female characters who have a conversation about something other than a man): women are the lifeblood of this novel, and so are depictions of female anxieties in the face of male violence.
Consequently, the presence of this unreliable narrator again complicates the plot, but not merely due to his opinions: in the context of the novel, this unreliability extends to his alibis. We establish early on that, in his self-pitying contempt for everyone around him (‘contempt’ is a very good summary for Rowan’s character), Rowan is a drunk who spends much of his time at the local pub in order to avoid spending time with Cressida and Mary Rose, and as such, when Maureen Sutton does go missing, even Rowan himself does not know where he was at the time of the murder: was he in the pub, or doing something entirely different? As the pace continues to meander into foreboding territory - while the book clocks in at scarcely over 200 pages, the slow pacing lets us linger in the seething sense of ominousness we find ourselves in - I found that, by the time of the conclusion, it is possible to know almost less about the characters than I did at the beginning.
THE FATE OF MARY ROSE is a distinctly British story, and nowhere says it more that in the undertones of class which run beneath it like a skeleton. There is a reason why so many famous murder mysteries utilise the British village as their setting, and in many cases it’s because of the expectations people have of these villages. In many cases, especially in the 70’s-80’s in which we can assume the novel is set, these villages have increasingly become communities of the middle-class, especially in the South and with the benefit of proximity to London. Maureen, however, is established to have lived on the newly-built council estate on the outskirts of the village, which Cressida despises due to its being an ‘eyesore’ in comparison. This snobbery knots into the heart of the novel, with subtle references to the ruin of the village, not to mention some less-subtle victim-blaming of Maureen’s parents, assuming that the murder took place due to neglect at the hands of Maureen’s mother, unlike the very middle-class mothers who would never let such a thing happen to their children, and as such this turns into a somewhat (as far as we can get it with Rowan’s narration) intersectional look at not only how communities band together, but how they lash out in the face of terrible circumstances.
While they never meet each other - while alive - Maureen and Mary Rose share a very similar role within the narrative: we know very little about either of them, not only because of Rowan’s disinterest and fixation with himself and himself alone, but because both are devices demonstrating how young female innocence is devoured by male violence. In the case of Maureen, this is very literal: she is brutally murdered by an unknown assailant, and consequently becomes the face of this violence within the novel. However, considering Mary Rose, this loss of innocence is instead mitigated to her through her mother, who begins to fill her with her own paranoia (as we learn, Cressida has had previous negative experience with men, but I won’t detail them here for the sake of spoilers) and forcibly drags Mary Rose into the world of grief inhabited by the Suttons. While Cressida’s paranoia does go overboard on numerous occasions, the change is increasingly sinister due to the fact that, in the beginning, many of her worries are entirely valid: a girl the same age as her daughter has been murdered in their village, and living alone with her while her (useless) husband is away in London, there is no male protector from the equally male violence just outside the front door. Her behaviour is very similar to that which we can see among internet armchair detectives in the face of modern crimes, especially in her obsession. Alongside turning her cottage into a shrine to Maureen, complete with images taken from the newspapers, Cressida visits the crime scene and regales the neighbours with the gruesome details, and even crashes Maureen’s funeral, much to the distress of the Sutton family. At which point does her behaviour turn from maternal concern to outright fixation? While such a question is up to reader interpretation, I imagine it would be difficult for most to pinpoint an exact page number. Above all, both girls exist as tools for Rowan’s own discomfort: Mary Rose as an alien being to himself, whom he cannot separate from Cressida, and Maureen as a demonstration of the contempt he holds for women and girls throughout the novel. In many cases, his research - concerning a famous female scientist and scholar - is a failure for the same reason as his relationships; he simply cannot view the women in his life as individual people, as opposed to figures who serve specific purposes in his life and in relation to him. In many cases, this contempt (take a drink every time I say the word) boils down to a sweeping rendering of the entire novel - does anyone truly care about poor Maureen Sutton, or just the idea of her?
As befitting its subject matter, THE FATE OF MARY ROSE is a dark look at just how paranoia can seep into the heart of previously secure communities, and demonstrates a distinctly second-wave division between men and women in the face of male violence against women and girls. In a literary market where female rage and complicated women getting revenge is a demand in new releases, the novel is likely to slot into shelves despite the gap between its initial release and now, and even with this degree of separation, is just as ominous to a 2020s audience as to a 1980s audience: after all, the famous ship the Mary Rose sank before it left the harbour, and the reference doesn’t bode well for Blackwood’s Mary Rose either…
*THE FATE OF MARY ROSE is being published by Virago Press on the 7th of November 2024: remember to support your brick-and-mortar bookshops, particularly indies! Thank you to Virago Press and Little, Brown Books for an eArc in exchange for an honest review.
Initially published in 1981, THE FATE OF MARY ROSE concerns the disappearance of young Maureen Sutton from a sleepy village in Kent, and historian Rowan Anderson, dragged into the hysteria against his will by his eccentric wife Cressida. Soon fixated on the news, Cressida’s unsettling demeanour turns sinister as she sets about protecting their sickly daughter, Mary Rose, from the same fate - and perhaps even from her husband.
When you’re putting together a reprint list for publication, an important aspect to consider is why you’ve chosen to reprint the text in question within today’s market: when we designate a book to be a classic, we often do it not only due to the literary value we deem it to have, but due to the cultural value. In short, when we decide a book’s a classic, it’s got to mean something to us today in order to justify it’s continuing presence on shelves. In this regard, THE FATE OF MARY ROSE feels like not only a judicious, but an obvious choice for republication. If you boil the plot down to its very basic elements, it concerns how we engage with crime and its reporting, how boundaries are violated within the intimate nature of news as we receive it, and the paranoia which can be sustained through an unhealthy obsession with dark news; while not in the age of social media, where armchair detectives have more power than ever, THE FATE OF MARY ROSE demonstrates precisely how these are constant features of engagement with crime, and how this paranoid can weasel into environments where most consider themselves safe.
In terms of protagonist, Blackwood does a great job of making Rowan a morally grey unreliable narrator: which is to say that she does a really effective job of making him deeply, deeply irritating. From the very first page, he’s overwhelmingly narcissistic, not only in his skewed priorities, but in how he treats the people around him. His alimony provisions are phrased entirely through how inconvenient they are to him, his disgust towards Cressida is visible from the outset, his affair with the glamourous Gloria is one-sided and selfish, and he is more than happy to place his timid secretary in danger for his own personal comfort. Quite simply, this guy stinks. A common thread throughout, and often demonstrated by Rowan, also concerns a common dominating factor of how patriarchy asserts itself: by similarly asserting that femininity, in all its expressions, is somehow wrong and deviant. Alongside his mocking of Cressida’s performances of domesticity at the outset, he shows abject contempt for the articles Gloria writes (deemed vapid in comparison to his own historical research), and while the women of the village grow increasingly terrified at the prospect of a perverted murderer lurking in plain sight, Rowan implies that this concern towards the prospect of sexual violence is somehow hysterical. Interestingly, there are very few male characters within the novel, and those who do exist are often unspeaking or reduced to named references in dialogue. This in turn gives the impression of a reverse Bechdel Test at work (for those unfamiliar, the Bechdel Test is a hypothetical piece of light media criticism established by cartoonist Alison Bechdel, in which a piece of media passes the test by containing two named female characters who have a conversation about something other than a man): women are the lifeblood of this novel, and so are depictions of female anxieties in the face of male violence.
Consequently, the presence of this unreliable narrator again complicates the plot, but not merely due to his opinions: in the context of the novel, this unreliability extends to his alibis. We establish early on that, in his self-pitying contempt for everyone around him (‘contempt’ is a very good summary for Rowan’s character), Rowan is a drunk who spends much of his time at the local pub in order to avoid spending time with Cressida and Mary Rose, and as such, when Maureen Sutton does go missing, even Rowan himself does not know where he was at the time of the murder: was he in the pub, or doing something entirely different? As the pace continues to meander into foreboding territory - while the book clocks in at scarcely over 200 pages, the slow pacing lets us linger in the seething sense of ominousness we find ourselves in - I found that, by the time of the conclusion, it is possible to know almost less about the characters than I did at the beginning.
THE FATE OF MARY ROSE is a distinctly British story, and nowhere says it more that in the undertones of class which run beneath it like a skeleton. There is a reason why so many famous murder mysteries utilise the British village as their setting, and in many cases it’s because of the expectations people have of these villages. In many cases, especially in the 70’s-80’s in which we can assume the novel is set, these villages have increasingly become communities of the middle-class, especially in the South and with the benefit of proximity to London. Maureen, however, is established to have lived on the newly-built council estate on the outskirts of the village, which Cressida despises due to its being an ‘eyesore’ in comparison. This snobbery knots into the heart of the novel, with subtle references to the ruin of the village, not to mention some less-subtle victim-blaming of Maureen’s parents, assuming that the murder took place due to neglect at the hands of Maureen’s mother, unlike the very middle-class mothers who would never let such a thing happen to their children, and as such this turns into a somewhat (as far as we can get it with Rowan’s narration) intersectional look at not only how communities band together, but how they lash out in the face of terrible circumstances.
While they never meet each other - while alive - Maureen and Mary Rose share a very similar role within the narrative: we know very little about either of them, not only because of Rowan’s disinterest and fixation with himself and himself alone, but because both are devices demonstrating how young female innocence is devoured by male violence. In the case of Maureen, this is very literal: she is brutally murdered by an unknown assailant, and consequently becomes the face of this violence within the novel. However, considering Mary Rose, this loss of innocence is instead mitigated to her through her mother, who begins to fill her with her own paranoia (as we learn, Cressida has had previous negative experience with men, but I won’t detail them here for the sake of spoilers) and forcibly drags Mary Rose into the world of grief inhabited by the Suttons. While Cressida’s paranoia does go overboard on numerous occasions, the change is increasingly sinister due to the fact that, in the beginning, many of her worries are entirely valid: a girl the same age as her daughter has been murdered in their village, and living alone with her while her (useless) husband is away in London, there is no male protector from the equally male violence just outside the front door. Her behaviour is very similar to that which we can see among internet armchair detectives in the face of modern crimes, especially in her obsession. Alongside turning her cottage into a shrine to Maureen, complete with images taken from the newspapers, Cressida visits the crime scene and regales the neighbours with the gruesome details, and even crashes Maureen’s funeral, much to the distress of the Sutton family. At which point does her behaviour turn from maternal concern to outright fixation? While such a question is up to reader interpretation, I imagine it would be difficult for most to pinpoint an exact page number. Above all, both girls exist as tools for Rowan’s own discomfort: Mary Rose as an alien being to himself, whom he cannot separate from Cressida, and Maureen as a demonstration of the contempt he holds for women and girls throughout the novel. In many cases, his research - concerning a famous female scientist and scholar - is a failure for the same reason as his relationships; he simply cannot view the women in his life as individual people, as opposed to figures who serve specific purposes in his life and in relation to him. In many cases, this contempt (take a drink every time I say the word) boils down to a sweeping rendering of the entire novel - does anyone truly care about poor Maureen Sutton, or just the idea of her?
As befitting its subject matter, THE FATE OF MARY ROSE is a dark look at just how paranoia can seep into the heart of previously secure communities, and demonstrates a distinctly second-wave division between men and women in the face of male violence against women and girls. In a literary market where female rage and complicated women getting revenge is a demand in new releases, the novel is likely to slot into shelves despite the gap between its initial release and now, and even with this degree of separation, is just as ominous to a 2020s audience as to a 1980s audience: after all, the famous ship the Mary Rose sank before it left the harbour, and the reference doesn’t bode well for Blackwood’s Mary Rose either…
*THE FATE OF MARY ROSE is being published by Virago Press on the 7th of November 2024: remember to support your brick-and-mortar bookshops, particularly indies! Thank you to Virago Press and Little, Brown Books for an eArc in exchange for an honest review.
June 5, 2026
Also einen unangenehmeren Protagonisten durfte ich noch nie auf seinem (eigentlich) selbstverschuldeten Horrortrip begleiten. Toxisch, tragisch, abgründig. Irgendwo zwischen Moshfegh und Jackson und Highsmith. Tolle (Wieder)Entdeckung, Herbst 26 auf Deutsch bei Insel.
December 11, 2024
Are you kidding me? What in the world was that? Clearly a slice of hell between pages. I suppose it's a kind of genius, but what a dark, dark genius it is.
April 10, 2026
Every page of this novel is a descent into a darkness darker than the page before. Even at the edge of intrigue, I snugly at home in that darkness throughout my stay in the world of Caroline Blackwood.
The fate of Mary Rose continues to unravel after the book ends, beyond our knowledge, but whatever does happen to girls with damaged mothers and distant fathers? A tale as old as time, told with a nightmarish intensity, stripped of all consolations.
A little girl’s disappearance, later found –ed and murdered, in a small English village sets the novel in motion. Mary Rose’s mother comes unhinged, her father, also the narrator, is indifferent to anyone’s plight except his own, and poor Mary Rose never gets a say in her fate. The picture-of-peace village is infected with hysteria, the eyes of suspicion are on every man, every woman high on her guard.
The mystery of domestic life is under the microscope, a woman who has seemingly trapped her man into marriage, the husband who resents his wife, his mistress and his daughter in equal measures. Oh, but he is a feminist historian who likes to shine a light on women’s achievements. He is not an unreliable narrator, if anything, his clarity makes him more disturbing.
This novel is not trying to solve the crime at its core, but the insidious fate of women in a society where men run unchecked with their casual depravity. It doesn’t matter who did it, because it happens everywhere, all the time. The most unsafe place for a woman is her own house, the biggest threats to her are the men she is related to. That is an uncomfortable statistic to live with.
Blackwood’s prose is restrained, subtle but heavy with implication. She doesn’t have answers to the questions she asks, though her questions left me with a deepening unease I already feel at the state of our world. The end is symbolic of a long overdue reckoning, though unjust, entirely satisfying. 4.5 stars!
The fate of Mary Rose continues to unravel after the book ends, beyond our knowledge, but whatever does happen to girls with damaged mothers and distant fathers? A tale as old as time, told with a nightmarish intensity, stripped of all consolations.
A little girl’s disappearance, later found –ed and murdered, in a small English village sets the novel in motion. Mary Rose’s mother comes unhinged, her father, also the narrator, is indifferent to anyone’s plight except his own, and poor Mary Rose never gets a say in her fate. The picture-of-peace village is infected with hysteria, the eyes of suspicion are on every man, every woman high on her guard.
The mystery of domestic life is under the microscope, a woman who has seemingly trapped her man into marriage, the husband who resents his wife, his mistress and his daughter in equal measures. Oh, but he is a feminist historian who likes to shine a light on women’s achievements. He is not an unreliable narrator, if anything, his clarity makes him more disturbing.
This novel is not trying to solve the crime at its core, but the insidious fate of women in a society where men run unchecked with their casual depravity. It doesn’t matter who did it, because it happens everywhere, all the time. The most unsafe place for a woman is her own house, the biggest threats to her are the men she is related to. That is an uncomfortable statistic to live with.
Blackwood’s prose is restrained, subtle but heavy with implication. She doesn’t have answers to the questions she asks, though her questions left me with a deepening unease I already feel at the state of our world. The end is symbolic of a long overdue reckoning, though unjust, entirely satisfying. 4.5 stars!
October 12, 2026
Pewnie nie zwróciłabym uwagi na tę powieść, gdyby nie entuzjastyczne opinie krytyków „Kwartetu literackiego“. Książka została odkryta po latach i dopiero teraz wydana na rynku niemieckim. Krytycy zgodnie orzekli, że dobra, choć szokująca.
To prawda. Historię opowiada dobrze sytuowany biały mężczyzna, publikujący historyk, mąż i ojciec córki, tytułowej Mary Rose, wiodący jednak podwójne życie. Większość czasu spędza w Londynie w swoim mieszkaniu, regularnie spotyka się z kochanką, tylko raz na parę miesięcy jeździ do żony i córki na wieś. I cóż, jest to osobliwa narracja. Przyznam, że przez większość czasu nie rozumiałam motywacji nikogo z bohaterów, i poczynania były dziwne, niezrozumiałe, a opowieść głównego bohatera wkurzająca, jak wkurzające mogą być wywody białego zamożnego faceta w patriarchalnym świecie. Ale im dalej w las, tym robi się dziwniej i bardziej upiornie. Pojawiają się elementy kryminału, podejrzenia, niejasności - w którymś momencie nie wierzymy nawet narratorowi. I Blackwood buduje tę ponurą atmosferę znakomicie. Nastrój grozy, ale i to, jak niesłychane są drobiażdżki, coraz bardziej wychodzące na jaw, sprawiają, że w końcu nie możemy tej książki odłożyć.
Dziwny, wciągający noir.
To prawda. Historię opowiada dobrze sytuowany biały mężczyzna, publikujący historyk, mąż i ojciec córki, tytułowej Mary Rose, wiodący jednak podwójne życie. Większość czasu spędza w Londynie w swoim mieszkaniu, regularnie spotyka się z kochanką, tylko raz na parę miesięcy jeździ do żony i córki na wieś. I cóż, jest to osobliwa narracja. Przyznam, że przez większość czasu nie rozumiałam motywacji nikogo z bohaterów, i poczynania były dziwne, niezrozumiałe, a opowieść głównego bohatera wkurzająca, jak wkurzające mogą być wywody białego zamożnego faceta w patriarchalnym świecie. Ale im dalej w las, tym robi się dziwniej i bardziej upiornie. Pojawiają się elementy kryminału, podejrzenia, niejasności - w którymś momencie nie wierzymy nawet narratorowi. I Blackwood buduje tę ponurą atmosferę znakomicie. Nastrój grozy, ale i to, jak niesłychane są drobiażdżki, coraz bardziej wychodzące na jaw, sprawiają, że w końcu nie możemy tej książki odłożyć.
Dziwny, wciągający noir.
September 19, 2024
Historian Rowan Anderson is a craven, self-centred, man with no discernible affinity for the women is his life. He lives apart from his strange, inert, wife Cressida and their frail, pallid, daughter Mary Rose.
For appearance’s sake he visits them in their country cottage every few weeks, where an icy formality reigns, and Mary Rose regards him with a mute apathy.
When a local child is raped and murdered Cressida’s oddness evolves into an obsessive mania of fear and wrath. She’s despairingly exalted by this opportunity to demonstrate the danger of the world, and the men who fill it, to her daughter.
As Cressida’s behaviours become more erratic, the congenitally unwilling Rowan is put under pressure to actually DO something about it. As what he liked best about his family was that he didn’t really need to involve himself with it, he initially finds this beyond his capabilities and interest, a position which quickly becomes untenable.
Like John Fowles’ The Collector the book puts us inside the head of a truly appalling human being, a man who can only find interest in his own purposes. Everyone else is a peg upon which to hang bits of his life.
Rowan has zero empathy, but intellectually can recognise remarkable women. The book he is trying to write about Hertha Ayrton (look her up, she rocks) and her incredible achievements is failing because he can document facts, but he can’t imbue his text with any sense of “the woman”. I thought this was a great character touch.
Cressida is monstrous in an entirely captivating way. We can’t look away, and we long to know what happened to her to make her this way. We know what makes Rowan such a shit: privilege.
The book is a bleak farce, reflecting the frictions between the classes, the sexes, and the rural and the urban. It has the traditional structure - a character trying to keep plates spinning in the face of endless disturbance and disruption, reaching fever pitch - but there are few laughs here. There is wit, but the horror is intense, delivered with fast jabbing gut-punches.
Extraordinary.
For appearance’s sake he visits them in their country cottage every few weeks, where an icy formality reigns, and Mary Rose regards him with a mute apathy.
When a local child is raped and murdered Cressida’s oddness evolves into an obsessive mania of fear and wrath. She’s despairingly exalted by this opportunity to demonstrate the danger of the world, and the men who fill it, to her daughter.
As Cressida’s behaviours become more erratic, the congenitally unwilling Rowan is put under pressure to actually DO something about it. As what he liked best about his family was that he didn’t really need to involve himself with it, he initially finds this beyond his capabilities and interest, a position which quickly becomes untenable.
Like John Fowles’ The Collector the book puts us inside the head of a truly appalling human being, a man who can only find interest in his own purposes. Everyone else is a peg upon which to hang bits of his life.
Rowan has zero empathy, but intellectually can recognise remarkable women. The book he is trying to write about Hertha Ayrton (look her up, she rocks) and her incredible achievements is failing because he can document facts, but he can’t imbue his text with any sense of “the woman”. I thought this was a great character touch.
Cressida is monstrous in an entirely captivating way. We can’t look away, and we long to know what happened to her to make her this way. We know what makes Rowan such a shit: privilege.
The book is a bleak farce, reflecting the frictions between the classes, the sexes, and the rural and the urban. It has the traditional structure - a character trying to keep plates spinning in the face of endless disturbance and disruption, reaching fever pitch - but there are few laughs here. There is wit, but the horror is intense, delivered with fast jabbing gut-punches.
Extraordinary.
Read
February 1, 2026extremely uncomfortable and grotesque look inside the mind of a woman-hating loser. really disturbing read. way less dark humour than i expected after reading the wonderful ‘great granny webster’, however i still loved blackwood’s writing in this. definitely don’t think crime/thriller novels are my thing, but blackwood has created a really powerful and thorough character study in this short novel.
January 31, 2026
4.5 stars.
Well that was insane. Left me reeling a bit, not going to lie. Fully excited to continue on my Blackwood journey!
Well that was insane. Left me reeling a bit, not going to lie. Fully excited to continue on my Blackwood journey!
March 13, 2026
kocham female rage
Want to Read
November 9, 2025Incipit
Era morta già prima che venissi a sapere della sua esistenza.
Continua su IncipitMania
Era morta già prima che venissi a sapere della sua esistenza.
Continua su IncipitMania
January 14, 2026
4.25✨ You know, the MC Rowan Anderson is probably one of the most “unlikeable” narrators out there, but I don’t think he is all that “unreliable”. It was such a ride reading from his perspective, this very emotionally detached man in a loveless marriage.
A heinous crime has been committed in their small village and Rowan must deal with the aftermath.
A literary murder mystery but more focused on the grief, fear and hysteria that infects everyone around him. But not Rowan, he’s more irritated that it’s keeping him from his work in London.
Very dark and darkly funny I honestly couldn’t put this down even though this was not necessarily action packed. But you couldn’t look away from the train wreck either. My first Caroline Blackwood, would love to read more.
A heinous crime has been committed in their small village and Rowan must deal with the aftermath.
A literary murder mystery but more focused on the grief, fear and hysteria that infects everyone around him. But not Rowan, he’s more irritated that it’s keeping him from his work in London.
Very dark and darkly funny I honestly couldn’t put this down even though this was not necessarily action packed. But you couldn’t look away from the train wreck either. My first Caroline Blackwood, would love to read more.
March 1, 2026
Preso in mano in libreria per la curiosità di vedere il mio nome nel titolo (credo non mi sia mai capitato) e poi scopro che l'autrice è stata moglie di Lucien Freud. Libro molto bello per scrittura, trama, invenzione. Mary Rose è il fulcro della storia, una bambina che è oggetto, non soggetto. Oggetto di un amore malato da parte della madre e un disinteresse da parte del padre. Un romanzo noir/psicologico da leggere.
August 5, 2025
Acerbically nasty and unsettling. What a great author she was. A mixture of Highsmith, Jackson, Fremlin and Dale. Absolutely addictive reading.
February 23, 2026
A newly unearthed novel by the aristocratic socialite artist muse, Lady Caroline Blackwood, married to Lucian Freud among other notable artists, this novel is a relatively easy but uncomfortable read. I found that none of the characters were likeable, and I believe this was the point, but I also found the darkness of the writing unlikeable and unlike say, the novels of Celia Dale which also deal with suburban noir, this one did not hit the mark for me. I think what might have made it extremely unlikeable was that the main character and his descriptions of all the women in his life: dark, disturbing and intensely repugnant. Not an author I would like to come back to. 2.5 stars purely on personal dislike.
December 11, 2024
Lush, dark, gothic. This was a good one!
May 24, 2025
Disturbingly uncomfortable and sinister. Left a bit stunned
December 15, 2025
This book is seriously dark & unsettling. If you want a masterclass in slow-burn, suffocating dread, you should absolutely pick it up
February 11, 2026
4.5/5, Подписные издания, перевод Александры Глебовской
ничего не ожидала, всё получила; жуткое чтение о вроде бы обычной жизни и мрачный финал
ничего не ожидала, всё получила; жуткое чтение о вроде бы обычной жизни и мрачный финал
October 19, 2026
The narrator, Rowan, is unreliable, narcissistic and incompetent who is rather negligent and avoidant of his responsibilities as a father. Cressida is the unnerving and mysterious wife of Rowan who has a strange obsession with her daughter. Mary rose, the daughter of Rowan and Cressida, as a reader you feel angry and frustrated on behalf for this child as she is weak and powerless towards her parents who make her life miserable. The situation turns for worse when a horrible crime happens in the neighbourhood.
The book covered some interesting societal attitudes which I found fascinating like Rowan’s absolute lack of empathy towards the women in his life.
Extremely disturbing throughout but the plot kept me so curious I flew through the pages. Will definitely checkout more from this author.
The book covered some interesting societal attitudes which I found fascinating like Rowan’s absolute lack of empathy towards the women in his life.
Extremely disturbing throughout but the plot kept me so curious I flew through the pages. Will definitely checkout more from this author.
August 25, 2026
I’m convinced that Caroline Blackwood is THE icon of crafting an insufferable character. Now I’ll just be on my way to order everything else she has ever published.
Also, men ain’t shit.
Also, men ain’t shit.
October 18, 2026
grusomme folk som gjør dumme valg er ikke min favorittsjanger, men denne er godt skrevet og interessant. liker hvordan den sparker til alle kanter.
October 6, 2026
Es war stilistisch sehr öde, aber ich dachte, der Plot würde mich sicher bald dafür entschädigen. Das war dann aber auch nicht der Fall.
May 18, 2026
Atmosfera surreale, angosciante e inquietante.
Rowan è uno scrittore che vive a Londra, innamorato del suo lavoro e delle sue ricerche nelle quali si immerge a tal punto da perdere la propria individualità. “In quei momenti mi trascuro (…)leggo per gran parte della notte. Se suona il telefono, non rispondo. Quasi non mangio. Trascurare i doveri abituali dà la sensazione di abbandonare la mia identità.”
A Rowen piace vivere così. Frequenta una donna, Gloria, ma senza impegno e soprattutto senza nessuna intenzione di abbandonare il suo stile di vita. Lei vorrebbe di più, perlomeno una convivenza. Lui non cede.
Fino a qui, nulla di strano.
La situazione diventa incredibilmente surreale con l’ingresso nella storia di una donna davvero particolare, Cressida.
Il suo è un ruolo chiave nella vita di Rowen e nella storia che la Blackwood ci presenta.
Rowen sembra all’inizio sottovalutare del tutto i segnali di comportamenti ossessivi e psicotici che non promettono nulla di buono.
I due, in modo quasi inspiegabile, concepiranno una bambina, Mary Rose, che sarà la protagonista passiva.
Il suo arrivo imprigiona il lettore in una sorta di bolla da cui non riuscirà più ad uscire fino all’epilogo della storia.
Perché se da una parte troviamo una donna, Cressida, di fatto madre ossessionata dal rapporto filiale, dall’altra parte troviamo un uomo, Rowen, “distratto” e interessato solo alla propria zona comfort, le cui omissioni risultano al lettore totalmente incomprensibili.
L’elemento detonatore è la scomparsa di una bambina, coetanea di Mary Rose, rapita e uccisa, nello stesso piccolo paese dove la bimba vive con la madre.
A questo punto la storia si squarcia e con lei la vita dello studioso che non sembra più essere in grado di recuperare il tempo perduto e contenere il comportamento psicotico della moglie.
Una storia nera inquietante, quasi una sorta di ragnatela, in cui ogni evento che viene visitato lascia il retrogusto della paura di una diversa e decisiva interpretazione manipolata.
La mano della scrittrice inchioda così il lettore, allo scorrere di eventi inevitabili, con personaggi non chiari, non amabili e persino irritanti.
Rowan è uno scrittore che vive a Londra, innamorato del suo lavoro e delle sue ricerche nelle quali si immerge a tal punto da perdere la propria individualità. “In quei momenti mi trascuro (…)leggo per gran parte della notte. Se suona il telefono, non rispondo. Quasi non mangio. Trascurare i doveri abituali dà la sensazione di abbandonare la mia identità.”
A Rowen piace vivere così. Frequenta una donna, Gloria, ma senza impegno e soprattutto senza nessuna intenzione di abbandonare il suo stile di vita. Lei vorrebbe di più, perlomeno una convivenza. Lui non cede.
Fino a qui, nulla di strano.
La situazione diventa incredibilmente surreale con l’ingresso nella storia di una donna davvero particolare, Cressida.
Il suo è un ruolo chiave nella vita di Rowen e nella storia che la Blackwood ci presenta.
Rowen sembra all’inizio sottovalutare del tutto i segnali di comportamenti ossessivi e psicotici che non promettono nulla di buono.
I due, in modo quasi inspiegabile, concepiranno una bambina, Mary Rose, che sarà la protagonista passiva.
Il suo arrivo imprigiona il lettore in una sorta di bolla da cui non riuscirà più ad uscire fino all’epilogo della storia.
Perché se da una parte troviamo una donna, Cressida, di fatto madre ossessionata dal rapporto filiale, dall’altra parte troviamo un uomo, Rowen, “distratto” e interessato solo alla propria zona comfort, le cui omissioni risultano al lettore totalmente incomprensibili.
L’elemento detonatore è la scomparsa di una bambina, coetanea di Mary Rose, rapita e uccisa, nello stesso piccolo paese dove la bimba vive con la madre.
A questo punto la storia si squarcia e con lei la vita dello studioso che non sembra più essere in grado di recuperare il tempo perduto e contenere il comportamento psicotico della moglie.
Una storia nera inquietante, quasi una sorta di ragnatela, in cui ogni evento che viene visitato lascia il retrogusto della paura di una diversa e decisiva interpretazione manipolata.
La mano della scrittrice inchioda così il lettore, allo scorrere di eventi inevitabili, con personaggi non chiari, non amabili e persino irritanti.
February 10, 2014
"I lost all sense of proportion once I started talking about my beloved project. I lost all my usual lightness of touch. I saturated people with unwanted information." (p. 62-63)
The above quotation is the one from the book that seems most readily applicable to my life on a daily basis. But it continues and the rest of the passage is the lens through which I viewed the book:
"And although she was glad that I planned to give my biography a feminist slant, she felt that I was a champion of woman's emancipation only in the abstract. Personal experience made her question my integrity on this particular issue. She had no doubt that intellectually I took my position seriously. But so did the left-wing radicals who love to talk about the lot of the worker as they drink champagne cocktails at the Ritz." (p. 63)
This book is interesting in that it's part murder mystery/part psychological horror of the family unit as told from the vantage point of a misanthropic (or at the least misogynist) protagonist father who's tethered to a loveless marriage. As he narrates you aren't sure how much you should relate to him because while his situation does some precarious and lamentable, he spends about half of the text insulting all of the female characters which, as a reader/person, seems a dickbag move and is a hard thing to support. The way Blackwood's writing can control you is pretty admirable. About halfway through I was convinced that it was a boilerplate whodunnit that, at most, might have a surprise killer reveal. Then she shifts into feminist territory but then (unfortunately) curbs that to move toward a family kidnapping scenario. There's also some great descriptive phrasing throughout. Shout out to twitter friends who send me books!
The above quotation is the one from the book that seems most readily applicable to my life on a daily basis. But it continues and the rest of the passage is the lens through which I viewed the book:
"And although she was glad that I planned to give my biography a feminist slant, she felt that I was a champion of woman's emancipation only in the abstract. Personal experience made her question my integrity on this particular issue. She had no doubt that intellectually I took my position seriously. But so did the left-wing radicals who love to talk about the lot of the worker as they drink champagne cocktails at the Ritz." (p. 63)
This book is interesting in that it's part murder mystery/part psychological horror of the family unit as told from the vantage point of a misanthropic (or at the least misogynist) protagonist father who's tethered to a loveless marriage. As he narrates you aren't sure how much you should relate to him because while his situation does some precarious and lamentable, he spends about half of the text insulting all of the female characters which, as a reader/person, seems a dickbag move and is a hard thing to support. The way Blackwood's writing can control you is pretty admirable. About halfway through I was convinced that it was a boilerplate whodunnit that, at most, might have a surprise killer reveal. Then she shifts into feminist territory but then (unfortunately) curbs that to move toward a family kidnapping scenario. There's also some great descriptive phrasing throughout. Shout out to twitter friends who send me books!
April 10, 2026
holy AMAZING. had been craving a page turner and this was definitely that
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