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Basic Black with Pearls
A lost feminist classic — and winner of the Toronto Book Award — reissued to coincide with the 35th anniversary of publication. In her yearning, elusive search for a lover, Shirley Kaszenbowski sheds her drab “basic black” existence together with torturous memories of guilt and loss as a Jewish immigrant in Toronto. Shirley Kaszenbowski, née Silverberg, is a middle-aged, middle-class woman in a Holt Renfrew tweed coat, a basic black dress, and a strand of real pearls. She may seem ordinary enough, pricing silk scarves at Eaton’s or idling in hotel coffee shops, but in fact she is searching for her lover. He is an elusive figure, a man connected with “The Agency,” a powerful technocrat who may or may not have suggested a rendezvous based on a secret code in the National Geographic . Her search takes her to the world of her past as a Jewish immigrant in the Spadina-Dundas area of Toronto. She finds the bakeries and rooming houses of her youth still haunted by survivors of postwar Europe and by her own memories of guilt and loss, while the consolations of art, opera, and pornography offer only echoes of her own illusions and desires. Her strange, wryly funny odyssey ends in a dramatic confrontation scene with her husband and “the other woman,” as she trades in her basic black for another chance. In Basic Black with Pearls , Weinzweig displays her gift for creating sympathetic characters in a slightly surreal, but always recognizable world.
144 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1980
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2511 people want to read
About the author
Helen Weinzweig
7 books13 followersHelen Weinzweig (1915–2010) was a Canadian writer. The author of two novels and a short story collection, her novel Basic Black with Pearls won the Toronto Book Award in 1981, and her short story collection A View from the Roof was a shortlisted nominee for the Governor General's Award for English language fiction in 1989.
Born in Poland in 1915, she emigrated to Canada at age 10 with her mother, and married composer John Weinzweig on July 12, 1940. She published her first short story, "Surprise!", in Canadian Forum in 1967, and her debut novel Passing Ceremony was published in 1973. She came to be regarded as one of Canada's first important feminist writers. Her style was marked by experimental forms with some aspects of metafiction; in her short story "Journey to Porquis", a writer on a train trip realizes that all of his fellow passengers are characters in his novel.
Weinzweig also wrote and produced a one-act play, My Mother's Luck, and several of her short stories in A View from the Roof were adapted for stage and CBC Radio broadcast by playwright Dave Carley.
Weinzweig died in 2010, aged 96.
(from Wikipedia)
Born in Poland in 1915, she emigrated to Canada at age 10 with her mother, and married composer John Weinzweig on July 12, 1940. She published her first short story, "Surprise!", in Canadian Forum in 1967, and her debut novel Passing Ceremony was published in 1973. She came to be regarded as one of Canada's first important feminist writers. Her style was marked by experimental forms with some aspects of metafiction; in her short story "Journey to Porquis", a writer on a train trip realizes that all of his fellow passengers are characters in his novel.
Weinzweig also wrote and produced a one-act play, My Mother's Luck, and several of her short stories in A View from the Roof were adapted for stage and CBC Radio broadcast by playwright Dave Carley.
Weinzweig died in 2010, aged 96.
(from Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 152 reviews
March 12, 2022
What can I say about this book? Canadian - noir - feminist - surreal.... Basic Black with Pearls has been described as all these things, and I suppose that's accurate enough. But the jacket doesn't say "suffocating" and "frustrating" and "bizarre", which would also be fair descriptors, though I understand that might interfere with the publisher's job of selling books.
I've wanted to read this a for a while now. It's been touted as a must-read Canadian gem, and I don't read my own countrymen/women nearly often enough, so that was reason enough for me to buy a copy. The premise is interesting: the protagonist (a middle aged, married housewife) is on an international trip to meet up with her long-time lover, who is a spy. They only communicate using code, and their trysts are all she has of him - temporary, limited, fleeting, painful, but passionate. It's been many years, but she's still got the hots for him. This time, though, he can't meet at their destination, and he redirects her at the last moment back to Toronto, her hometown.
The whole book follows this woman through Toronto, as she tries to decipher or guess at where her lover might be. Literally, she wanders the streets.
It's incredibly interior, detailed and dense, so despite the fact that it's under 150 pages, it isn't a quick or slight read. I soon wearied of this woman's obsession with her lover, with her lack of self, with her willingness to accept tiny slivers of time with him and all on his terms. I was, however, intrigued enough to see how this would end. Where would she find him, and when would this rear its "feminist" head?
The ending was such a WTF moment for me. In the afterword, Sarah Weinman says that Weinzweig struggled a long time with the ending, and was filled with doubt about it afterward, and I understand why. It seemed to me utterly bizarre, turning the book upside down, making me question the reality and sanity of the character.
My reaction: if she's nuts, if she's been nuts this whole time, I'm not interested. If it's all a dream, if it's all a metaphor, I'm also not interested.
It felt like a trick, and it pulled me out of the story. It left me feeling very miffed indeed.
But... a few days later, after I let it settle, mysteriously, I like it better. I see now how it conveys truth about the female experience - the claustrophobic loss of self that can happen in marriage and motherhood. The ending, on reflection, in the echo chamber of my brain, holds a hint of weird and wonderful empowerment. Something I can be inspired by.
Also, speaking of inspiration, it was through this reading that I became aware of the artist Augustus John (side note: apparently this man fathered around 100 children, including one to Ian Fleming's mother, if you'd believe it). I love it when books lead one to discover works of fine art, don't you?
I've wanted to read this a for a while now. It's been touted as a must-read Canadian gem, and I don't read my own countrymen/women nearly often enough, so that was reason enough for me to buy a copy. The premise is interesting: the protagonist (a middle aged, married housewife) is on an international trip to meet up with her long-time lover, who is a spy. They only communicate using code, and their trysts are all she has of him - temporary, limited, fleeting, painful, but passionate. It's been many years, but she's still got the hots for him. This time, though, he can't meet at their destination, and he redirects her at the last moment back to Toronto, her hometown.
The whole book follows this woman through Toronto, as she tries to decipher or guess at where her lover might be. Literally, she wanders the streets.
It's incredibly interior, detailed and dense, so despite the fact that it's under 150 pages, it isn't a quick or slight read. I soon wearied of this woman's obsession with her lover, with her lack of self, with her willingness to accept tiny slivers of time with him and all on his terms. I was, however, intrigued enough to see how this would end. Where would she find him, and when would this rear its "feminist" head?
The ending was such a WTF moment for me. In the afterword, Sarah Weinman says that Weinzweig struggled a long time with the ending, and was filled with doubt about it afterward, and I understand why. It seemed to me utterly bizarre, turning the book upside down, making me question the reality and sanity of the character.
My reaction: if she's nuts, if she's been nuts this whole time, I'm not interested. If it's all a dream, if it's all a metaphor, I'm also not interested.
It felt like a trick, and it pulled me out of the story. It left me feeling very miffed indeed.
But... a few days later, after I let it settle, mysteriously, I like it better. I see now how it conveys truth about the female experience - the claustrophobic loss of self that can happen in marriage and motherhood. The ending, on reflection, in the echo chamber of my brain, holds a hint of weird and wonderful empowerment. Something I can be inspired by.
Also, speaking of inspiration, it was through this reading that I became aware of the artist Augustus John (side note: apparently this man fathered around 100 children, including one to Ian Fleming's mother, if you'd believe it). I love it when books lead one to discover works of fine art, don't you?
December 13, 2023
This is an amazing novel I’d not heard of, by a woman I might not have heard of, if not for the #NYRBWomen23 group. I had no idea what to expect and, even so, it surpassed expectations. It’s a novel of interiority, and the reader quickly understands some of the seemingly factual (and fantastical) events are probably not “real.”
The prose is layered and two particular passages stood out for me: first, when the narrator is looking at a Bonnard painting whose painted figure not only speaks to her, but merges with her; second, when the narrator returns to her home to find another woman there, taking care of her husband in the ways he expects and demands. Is the other woman real or not? Either way, the three-in-the-bed scene is extraordinary, as is the two women’s ensuing conversation as they (she?) walk the streets of Toronto. These two scenes also provide the clues to experiences that have contributed to the narrator’s wanderings (whether in her head or not).
For anyone who’s seen the 1945 French film Children of Paradise (I haven’t), the narrator goes to multiple viewings of the film and I'm sure it's pertinent. In the afterword, Sarah Weinman mentions Marjorie Morningstar in a brief sentence and I think there’s a lot to that comparison, especially concerning the name Shirley.
As to the book's tagline on its Goodreads page, I have to wonder (rhetorically):
Why have so many feminist classics been “lost”?
(Kudos to NYRB for finding (and republishing) them.)
The prose is layered and two particular passages stood out for me: first, when the narrator is looking at a Bonnard painting whose painted figure not only speaks to her, but merges with her; second, when the narrator returns to her home to find another woman there, taking care of her husband in the ways he expects and demands. Is the other woman real or not? Either way, the three-in-the-bed scene is extraordinary, as is the two women’s ensuing conversation as they (she?) walk the streets of Toronto. These two scenes also provide the clues to experiences that have contributed to the narrator’s wanderings (whether in her head or not).
For anyone who’s seen the 1945 French film Children of Paradise (I haven’t), the narrator goes to multiple viewings of the film and I'm sure it's pertinent. In the afterword, Sarah Weinman mentions Marjorie Morningstar in a brief sentence and I think there’s a lot to that comparison, especially concerning the name Shirley.
As to the book's tagline on its Goodreads page, I have to wonder (rhetorically):
Why have so many feminist classics been “lost”?
(Kudos to NYRB for finding (and republishing) them.)
August 5, 2023
ne kadar şiirsel ve aynı zamanda sinir bozucu bir roman “inci kolyeli düz siyah elbise”.
en başta dümdüz bir aldatma hikayesi gibi görünüyor. evli bir kadın ve evli bir adam yıllarca adamın gizemli ama gayet politik bir casusluk gibi bir şey olduğu anlaşılan işi sebebiyle ülke ülke kıta kıta otel otel sevişiyor, birkaç gün geçiriyor ve ayrılıyorlar.
arka kapak yazısında zaten bunlar var. bu kitapta olaylardan çok helen weinzweig’ın nasıl bir roman kurduğu önemli. çünkü kitabın başında nasıl şifrelerle anlaştığını anlatan anlatıcı kadın kahraman bir sonraki buluşmanın olacağı toronto’yu görünce her şey değişecek.
shirley’in (adamla buluşurkenki takma adı lola) büyüdüğü yer olan toronto’ya gitmek istemeyişi, bir yandan adamla artık buluşamayacak olma korkusu, yaşanan terslikler, şifreyi çözemeyişi, daha doğrusu çözdüğünü sanıp sokak sokak gittiği yerler ve bu yerlerin hep kadının çocukluğuna ve gençliğine çıkması asıl önemli olan.
biz bir yerden sonra neyin gerçek neyin hayal olduğunu anlamadığımız, muğlaklığıyla mutlaka birkaç kere okunması gereken diyaloglar, pasajlarla dolu bir hayat hikayesi okuyoruz aslında. sevgili var mı yok mu o bile bir yerden sonra kafamızda soru işareti.
yahudi shirley’in ebeveyniyle yaşadıkları, bir portrenin canlanıp inanılmaz ağır işkenceleri dillendirmesi, bir garson kadında yaşayan annesi, yahudi ve fakir olduğu için terk edilişi, parasızlığı, sokaklarda kalmışlığı, fabrika işçiliği, sonlara doğru kocası, kocasının halleri, oğulları ve onlarla kuramadığı ilişki birer birer açılıyor önümüzde.
tabii bu açılan bölümlerin arkasında inanılmaz acımasız bir erkek dünyası var. sevişirken felsefi sorulardan hoşlanmayan sevgilisinin kadını aşağılamaları, kocanın at tımar eder gibi sevişmesi, deli diye sürekli alınıp bir yerlere kapatılması, hep ama hep itaat etmek zorunda olması, kolyesi ve elbisesiyle kanıtlamaya çalıştığı hanımefendiliğiyle bu patriyarkal düzene acı dolu bir başkaldırış romanı yazmış helen weinzweig.
sonunda kendi sesini, kendi elbisesini, kendi mekanını bulacak mı shirley? çocuklarını bıraktığı için acımasız anne mi olacak, kocasını aldattığı için orospu mu, alt sınıftan gelip yükseldiği için görmemiş mi? bunları mı olacak özgür bir kadın mı? göreceğiz.
son derece acımasız gerçeklerin hayallerin uçuşkanlığından geçip gözünüze sokulması gibi bir roman. ama o uçuşkan hayaller de gerçek olacak bir gün.
betül kadıoğlu’nun mükemmel çevirisi ve yüz kitap farkıyla…
en başta dümdüz bir aldatma hikayesi gibi görünüyor. evli bir kadın ve evli bir adam yıllarca adamın gizemli ama gayet politik bir casusluk gibi bir şey olduğu anlaşılan işi sebebiyle ülke ülke kıta kıta otel otel sevişiyor, birkaç gün geçiriyor ve ayrılıyorlar.
arka kapak yazısında zaten bunlar var. bu kitapta olaylardan çok helen weinzweig’ın nasıl bir roman kurduğu önemli. çünkü kitabın başında nasıl şifrelerle anlaştığını anlatan anlatıcı kadın kahraman bir sonraki buluşmanın olacağı toronto’yu görünce her şey değişecek.
shirley’in (adamla buluşurkenki takma adı lola) büyüdüğü yer olan toronto’ya gitmek istemeyişi, bir yandan adamla artık buluşamayacak olma korkusu, yaşanan terslikler, şifreyi çözemeyişi, daha doğrusu çözdüğünü sanıp sokak sokak gittiği yerler ve bu yerlerin hep kadının çocukluğuna ve gençliğine çıkması asıl önemli olan.
biz bir yerden sonra neyin gerçek neyin hayal olduğunu anlamadığımız, muğlaklığıyla mutlaka birkaç kere okunması gereken diyaloglar, pasajlarla dolu bir hayat hikayesi okuyoruz aslında. sevgili var mı yok mu o bile bir yerden sonra kafamızda soru işareti.
yahudi shirley’in ebeveyniyle yaşadıkları, bir portrenin canlanıp inanılmaz ağır işkenceleri dillendirmesi, bir garson kadında yaşayan annesi, yahudi ve fakir olduğu için terk edilişi, parasızlığı, sokaklarda kalmışlığı, fabrika işçiliği, sonlara doğru kocası, kocasının halleri, oğulları ve onlarla kuramadığı ilişki birer birer açılıyor önümüzde.
tabii bu açılan bölümlerin arkasında inanılmaz acımasız bir erkek dünyası var. sevişirken felsefi sorulardan hoşlanmayan sevgilisinin kadını aşağılamaları, kocanın at tımar eder gibi sevişmesi, deli diye sürekli alınıp bir yerlere kapatılması, hep ama hep itaat etmek zorunda olması, kolyesi ve elbisesiyle kanıtlamaya çalıştığı hanımefendiliğiyle bu patriyarkal düzene acı dolu bir başkaldırış romanı yazmış helen weinzweig.
sonunda kendi sesini, kendi elbisesini, kendi mekanını bulacak mı shirley? çocuklarını bıraktığı için acımasız anne mi olacak, kocasını aldattığı için orospu mu, alt sınıftan gelip yükseldiği için görmemiş mi? bunları mı olacak özgür bir kadın mı? göreceğiz.
son derece acımasız gerçeklerin hayallerin uçuşkanlığından geçip gözünüze sokulması gibi bir roman. ama o uçuşkan hayaller de gerçek olacak bir gün.
betül kadıoğlu’nun mükemmel çevirisi ve yüz kitap farkıyla…
April 24, 2018
My review for the Chicago Tribune: http://www.chicagotribune.com/lifesty...
From its first few pages, Canadian writer Helen Weinzweig’s arresting and unforgettable “Basic Black With Pearls” seems as though it’s going to be an exotic, erotic spy thriller. Shirley, our intrepid protagonist who is also a Toronto housewife, has for years been carrying on a tempestuous affair with a man called Coenraad, an affiliate of an international organization known only as The Agency.
Their secret trysts around the globe — in Tikal, Guatemala, Marseille, France, and Vienna, to name a few — are prearranged by way of a complicated code known only to the two of them, passed on through issues of National Geographic. Shirley prefers to be known — on her passport, in hotel registers — by the name “Lola Montez,” but dresses in the respectable bourgeois uniform of a tweed jacket, a black dress and a string of real pearls. Coenraad, on the other hand, is a master of disguise — sometimes a bellhop, sometimes a wino — who, “when he has no other safe means of communication” will signal her “with a deep look” into her eyes, “blinking three times between unwavering stares.”
But after a few pages, one begins to realize that Weinzweig’s story is something else entirely, a hard-to-classify tumble into the mind of an intelligent, passionate, underestimated and unpredictable middle-aged woman’s attempts to grapple with her frustrated dreams and thwarted desires. When Coenraad summons her inexplicably back to her home city of Toronto — site of the Jewish neighborhoods of her deprived immigrant childhood — Shirley feels set adrift, beginning to behave provocatively as she forces herself to consider the prospect of “starting anew.”
In her afterword (wisely placed because this is a plot that could be easy to spoil), Sarah Weinman calls the book “an interior feminist espionage novel.” She also notes that upon its 1980 publication, the book “was greeted with a mix of praise and misunderstanding” for “critics sensed its daring and applauded its formal inventiveness, but those qualities also kept people at bay.” Now, eight years after the author’s death, this new edition from New York Review of Books Classics offers readers in the United States a not-to-be-missed opportunity to rediscover an important and underrated voice.
A seemingly conventional housewife, herself, married for more than six decades to the Canadian composer John Weinzweig, Helen Weinzweig did not begin writing until age 45, when a therapist suggested it as a way to combat depression. The first of her two novels, “Passing Ceremony,” came out when she was 58. “Basic Black With Pearls” was worth the wait: The book is singular and without flaw.
Weinzweig’s slim and increasingly surreal volume defies easy comparison, but like Jane Bowles’ off-kilter cult classic, “Two Serious Ladies,” this tale of a woman on the edge revels in its own absurd logic and its protagonist’s daffy yet deeply committed perverseness. Like Thomas Pynchon’s “The Crying of Lot 49,” the novel’s atmosphere is steeped in darkly comic conspiracy and paranoia. And like Muriel Spark’s metaphysical shocker, “The Driver’s Seat,” the book is a feminist exploration of alienation and the instability of selfhood.
The book’s confidential tone holds the reader almost suffocatingly close to Shirley’s perceptions. Weinzweig depicts with acuity the flanerie of those who want to kill time, as well as the strength needed to wait and the determination required of the passive. Shirley’s cracked diamond of a mind draws readers in as they follow her physical and verbal perambulations. On one of her walks, waiting for a Coenraad who might never arrive, she notes of her loneliness, “Acts of fellowship … take place only during bombings and public hangings. Under normal conditions strangers must avoid the other’s strangeness.”
Early on, Shirley observes that Auden defined poetry as “the juxtaposition of irreconcilable elements.” This book is absolutely poetic in that regard, beautifully written and difficult to reduce to a single, easy meaning.
Perhaps better than any spy thriller, it invites readers to contemplate the mystery of how, in a society where the pressures and expectations put on wives and mothers are great enough to drive anyone mad, maybe so-called sanity itself is the greatest deception and putative normalcy the flimsiest disguise.
From its first few pages, Canadian writer Helen Weinzweig’s arresting and unforgettable “Basic Black With Pearls” seems as though it’s going to be an exotic, erotic spy thriller. Shirley, our intrepid protagonist who is also a Toronto housewife, has for years been carrying on a tempestuous affair with a man called Coenraad, an affiliate of an international organization known only as The Agency.
Their secret trysts around the globe — in Tikal, Guatemala, Marseille, France, and Vienna, to name a few — are prearranged by way of a complicated code known only to the two of them, passed on through issues of National Geographic. Shirley prefers to be known — on her passport, in hotel registers — by the name “Lola Montez,” but dresses in the respectable bourgeois uniform of a tweed jacket, a black dress and a string of real pearls. Coenraad, on the other hand, is a master of disguise — sometimes a bellhop, sometimes a wino — who, “when he has no other safe means of communication” will signal her “with a deep look” into her eyes, “blinking three times between unwavering stares.”
But after a few pages, one begins to realize that Weinzweig’s story is something else entirely, a hard-to-classify tumble into the mind of an intelligent, passionate, underestimated and unpredictable middle-aged woman’s attempts to grapple with her frustrated dreams and thwarted desires. When Coenraad summons her inexplicably back to her home city of Toronto — site of the Jewish neighborhoods of her deprived immigrant childhood — Shirley feels set adrift, beginning to behave provocatively as she forces herself to consider the prospect of “starting anew.”
In her afterword (wisely placed because this is a plot that could be easy to spoil), Sarah Weinman calls the book “an interior feminist espionage novel.” She also notes that upon its 1980 publication, the book “was greeted with a mix of praise and misunderstanding” for “critics sensed its daring and applauded its formal inventiveness, but those qualities also kept people at bay.” Now, eight years after the author’s death, this new edition from New York Review of Books Classics offers readers in the United States a not-to-be-missed opportunity to rediscover an important and underrated voice.
A seemingly conventional housewife, herself, married for more than six decades to the Canadian composer John Weinzweig, Helen Weinzweig did not begin writing until age 45, when a therapist suggested it as a way to combat depression. The first of her two novels, “Passing Ceremony,” came out when she was 58. “Basic Black With Pearls” was worth the wait: The book is singular and without flaw.
Weinzweig’s slim and increasingly surreal volume defies easy comparison, but like Jane Bowles’ off-kilter cult classic, “Two Serious Ladies,” this tale of a woman on the edge revels in its own absurd logic and its protagonist’s daffy yet deeply committed perverseness. Like Thomas Pynchon’s “The Crying of Lot 49,” the novel’s atmosphere is steeped in darkly comic conspiracy and paranoia. And like Muriel Spark’s metaphysical shocker, “The Driver’s Seat,” the book is a feminist exploration of alienation and the instability of selfhood.
The book’s confidential tone holds the reader almost suffocatingly close to Shirley’s perceptions. Weinzweig depicts with acuity the flanerie of those who want to kill time, as well as the strength needed to wait and the determination required of the passive. Shirley’s cracked diamond of a mind draws readers in as they follow her physical and verbal perambulations. On one of her walks, waiting for a Coenraad who might never arrive, she notes of her loneliness, “Acts of fellowship … take place only during bombings and public hangings. Under normal conditions strangers must avoid the other’s strangeness.”
Early on, Shirley observes that Auden defined poetry as “the juxtaposition of irreconcilable elements.” This book is absolutely poetic in that regard, beautifully written and difficult to reduce to a single, easy meaning.
Perhaps better than any spy thriller, it invites readers to contemplate the mystery of how, in a society where the pressures and expectations put on wives and mothers are great enough to drive anyone mad, maybe so-called sanity itself is the greatest deception and putative normalcy the flimsiest disguise.
June 3, 2024
CRITIQUE:
A Woman From Whom Nothing is Either Wanted or Expected
Shirley Kaszenbowski lives in a nice home in a nice part of Toronto.
She plays the role of wife and mother, but it is not enough. Love, sex and parenthood have become routine.
She leaves home to follow the call(s) of Coenraad, an occasional lover who invites her to meet him via coded entries in copies of National Geographic.
Coenraad is an agent who works for an organisation called "the Agency" (it might be the Canadian Security Intelligence Service [CSIS], given the Canadian context). It's likely these coded arrangements are designed to protect his identity and movements from other security organisations.
As if to compensate for her routine marriage, Shirley meets Coenraad in places all over the world on short notice. She arrives by plane or train (how she can afford the cost of her travels isn't explained), after which she walks around trying to find the precise location of their meeting, and then has to wait for him to arrive.
Coenraad's motive for the relationship isn't apparent. He doesn't seem to be moved by love or lust. It's not clear what he wants or expects from Shirley.
These assignations don't sound or read like anything especially romantic, sensual or erotic. The novel's only dramatic tension derives from whether the two lovers will actually find each other at a designated location.
Nevertheless, this relationship gifts Shirley a liberation of sorts, or, at least, the beginning or foundation of a liberation. It's an escape from marriage and a respite from routine.
A Rapport With Your Own Substitute
One day, Shirley returns home to her husband and children, only to find that Zbigniew has likewise taken a lover (Francesca). This relationship is just as unsatisfying as Shirley's marriage. Francesca is no more than a substitute who has literally assumed the same roles and functions as Shirley.
On the first night back together, all three sleep in the same bed. After Zbigniew has dispassionate sex with Francesca (while Shirley quietly masturbates herself to satisfaction), Francesca comforts Shirley:
Shirley takes her clothes, and leaves to continue on her quest for a lover or some other form of personal satisfaction. She concludes:
She walks and searches across town, though inside her "a resolve against waiting" has grown.
The novel reminded me of several literary works: "The Odyssey", "Ulysses", Anna Kavan's "Ice", Rikki Ducornet's "The Fan-Maker's Inquisition", and Alain Robbe-Grillet's "Jealousy", not to mention any work of the Marquis De Sade, as construed from a woman's point of view.
To paraphrase and question the writer of the novel's afterword, this is more a feminist odyssey than an espionage novel.
SOUNDTRACK:
A Woman From Whom Nothing is Either Wanted or Expected
Shirley Kaszenbowski lives in a nice home in a nice part of Toronto.
She plays the role of wife and mother, but it is not enough. Love, sex and parenthood have become routine.
She leaves home to follow the call(s) of Coenraad, an occasional lover who invites her to meet him via coded entries in copies of National Geographic.
Coenraad is an agent who works for an organisation called "the Agency" (it might be the Canadian Security Intelligence Service [CSIS], given the Canadian context). It's likely these coded arrangements are designed to protect his identity and movements from other security organisations.
As if to compensate for her routine marriage, Shirley meets Coenraad in places all over the world on short notice. She arrives by plane or train (how she can afford the cost of her travels isn't explained), after which she walks around trying to find the precise location of their meeting, and then has to wait for him to arrive.
Coenraad's motive for the relationship isn't apparent. He doesn't seem to be moved by love or lust. It's not clear what he wants or expects from Shirley.
These assignations don't sound or read like anything especially romantic, sensual or erotic. The novel's only dramatic tension derives from whether the two lovers will actually find each other at a designated location.
Nevertheless, this relationship gifts Shirley a liberation of sorts, or, at least, the beginning or foundation of a liberation. It's an escape from marriage and a respite from routine.
A Rapport With Your Own Substitute
One day, Shirley returns home to her husband and children, only to find that Zbigniew has likewise taken a lover (Francesca). This relationship is just as unsatisfying as Shirley's marriage. Francesca is no more than a substitute who has literally assumed the same roles and functions as Shirley.
On the first night back together, all three sleep in the same bed. After Zbigniew has dispassionate sex with Francesca (while Shirley quietly masturbates herself to satisfaction), Francesca comforts Shirley:
"You need have no jealousy; I never have an orgasm."
Shirley takes her clothes, and leaves to continue on her quest for a lover or some other form of personal satisfaction. She concludes:
"I will not miss being a stranger from whom nothing is wanted and from whom nothing is expected."
She walks and searches across town, though inside her "a resolve against waiting" has grown.
The novel reminded me of several literary works: "The Odyssey", "Ulysses", Anna Kavan's "Ice", Rikki Ducornet's "The Fan-Maker's Inquisition", and Alain Robbe-Grillet's "Jealousy", not to mention any work of the Marquis De Sade, as construed from a woman's point of view.
To paraphrase and question the writer of the novel's afterword, this is more a feminist odyssey than an espionage novel.
SOUNDTRACK:
May 15, 2017
The more I think about this book, the better I like it. Who knows, by Monday, I may be ready to give it a five-star rating!
This author, apparently one of CanLit's hidden gems, was mentioned on a radio programme last year. This title (one of only two novels which Weinzweig published) is purported to be the first Canadian feminist novel. Intrigued that I had never heard of her, I furtively sought out the book -- and I do mean furtively.
Three months after I had requested the book from a local library whose catalogue showed that it was "on the shelf", it was reported to have been "misplaced" by a client. How mysterious! An inter-library loan copy was requested for me. More waiting. Meanwhile, I discovered that the book had been reprinted in 2015 to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the birth of the author. So why was it so elusive? Well, I had begun to seek a copy just a few days before the reprint was released but, having spent several days stumbling through this very short book, I think that it was destined to be elusive.
The story takes the reader on a whirlwind tour of Toronto - not chronologically, mind you - that would be too simple. The reader accompanies the protagonist on a roller-coaster of memories as she traverses the neighbourhoods where she once lived. Why is she revisiting her old "stomping grounds?", you might ask. Excellent question! She is looking for her lover. It appears that he is a spy whose habit it is to provide her with clues about the location at which he (in disguise, of course -- he's "under cover") will meet her. Well, can you imagine how many times she guessed wrong? I lost track, but I did visit some areas of Toronto which were familiar to me - and some which weren't. Chalk it up to experience.
If you have read this much and you have the impression that I felt confused and frustrated by this story, you are very astute. I was both confused and frustrated but . . . the final 15 pages make the entire baffling romp around Toronto completely worthwhile. Yes! Those final pages are like a spotlight suddenly illuminating centre-stage, making me believe that the author did have a story to tell. I just haven't figured it out yet. But I will . . . yessirree, I will!
This author, apparently one of CanLit's hidden gems, was mentioned on a radio programme last year. This title (one of only two novels which Weinzweig published) is purported to be the first Canadian feminist novel. Intrigued that I had never heard of her, I furtively sought out the book -- and I do mean furtively.
Three months after I had requested the book from a local library whose catalogue showed that it was "on the shelf", it was reported to have been "misplaced" by a client. How mysterious! An inter-library loan copy was requested for me. More waiting. Meanwhile, I discovered that the book had been reprinted in 2015 to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the birth of the author. So why was it so elusive? Well, I had begun to seek a copy just a few days before the reprint was released but, having spent several days stumbling through this very short book, I think that it was destined to be elusive.
The story takes the reader on a whirlwind tour of Toronto - not chronologically, mind you - that would be too simple. The reader accompanies the protagonist on a roller-coaster of memories as she traverses the neighbourhoods where she once lived. Why is she revisiting her old "stomping grounds?", you might ask. Excellent question! She is looking for her lover. It appears that he is a spy whose habit it is to provide her with clues about the location at which he (in disguise, of course -- he's "under cover") will meet her. Well, can you imagine how many times she guessed wrong? I lost track, but I did visit some areas of Toronto which were familiar to me - and some which weren't. Chalk it up to experience.
If you have read this much and you have the impression that I felt confused and frustrated by this story, you are very astute. I was both confused and frustrated but . . . the final 15 pages make the entire baffling romp around Toronto completely worthwhile. Yes! Those final pages are like a spotlight suddenly illuminating centre-stage, making me believe that the author did have a story to tell. I just haven't figured it out yet. But I will . . . yessirree, I will!
June 2, 2023
Yüz Kitap’tan ne çıksa alıp okuyorum. Bu kitaba da sırf bu yüzden, öncesinde hiçbir bilgim olmadan başladım. Arkadaki tanıtım yazısını okuduğumda, romanın evli bir kadın üzerinden anlatılan bir aldatma hikayesi olacağını düşünüyordum. Hikayenin başlangıcı bu yönde olsa da romanın meselesinin bundan çok daha fazlası olduğunu biraz ilerledikten sonra anladım. Okuma zevkini kaçırmaması adına içeriğe dair fazla detay veremesem de romanın farklı katmanları olan, kadını ve kadına biçilen toplumsal rolleri (elbiseleri!) merkeze alan güçlü bir feminist roman olduğunu söyleyebilirim. Hayalle gerçeği iç içe geçtiği yerler, görünüp kaybolan yan karakterler ve özellikle final bölümündeki zarif detaylar (özellikle koca karakterinin sunumu) yazarın hiç de yabana atılmayacak anlatım becerisinin en güzel örnekleri.
December 15, 2010
This book is like a Toronto version of Ulysses! Assuming your idea of Ulysses is a story of an insane woman aimlessly wandering around the streets and buildings where you live.
November 19, 2020
Like no other book I've read, but if I had to compare it to something, I would say it's like Jane Bowles crossed with Muriel Spark.
More than once I was confused as to what was going on, characters behave strangely with little explanation, but a little patience please, it's worth it in this case. What seemed at first to just be a fun romp, a play on the noir genre, or some other such category turns out to be something much harder to classify and profoundly moving in the end.
I do not want to give anything away, but the last 30 pages or so are so poetic, so beautiful and sad and weird at the same time. I loved it way more than I thought I would.
Spoilers follow, do not click if you have not read the book:
More than once I was confused as to what was going on, characters behave strangely with little explanation, but a little patience please, it's worth it in this case. What seemed at first to just be a fun romp, a play on the noir genre, or some other such category turns out to be something much harder to classify and profoundly moving in the end.
I do not want to give anything away, but the last 30 pages or so are so poetic, so beautiful and sad and weird at the same time. I loved it way more than I thought I would.
Spoilers follow, do not click if you have not read the book:
November 27, 2019
Unfolding like a slightly more elegant version of Eva Figes existential dissolving pulp Nelly's Version, this also follows a middle-aged heroine traveling alone and who may or may not be involved in a thriller plot (there, a suggested crime novel, here espionage). There's a constant collapse of terms from the taut and mysterious into the mundane and back, leaving the reader off-balance and intrigued for the next turn, even if, more often than not, it proves prosaic. As in Figes' novel, this finds a heightened mysterious hyperreality in the exploration of precisely these prosaic places, tinged as most are by loss, historical tragedy, and desperate lives, many of which unexpectedly emerge from and disappear back into various threads of side plot.
September 22, 2024
Dywersyjny klasyk, który klasykiem został po trzydziestu latach. Na szczęście!
Weinzweig zaburza i gmatwa plany czasowe i przestrzenne w tej na pozór powieści popularnej, skupia się na nieszczelnych granicach tego, co istnieje, a tego, co jest wytworem wyobraźni.
Nic tylko czytać ten surrealistyczny romans, thriller, traktujący o uwikłaniu kobiety w przemocowe relacje i opresyjności patriarchatu.
Weinzweig zaburza i gmatwa plany czasowe i przestrzenne w tej na pozór powieści popularnej, skupia się na nieszczelnych granicach tego, co istnieje, a tego, co jest wytworem wyobraźni.
Nic tylko czytać ten surrealistyczny romans, thriller, traktujący o uwikłaniu kobiety w przemocowe relacje i opresyjności patriarchatu.
October 23, 2024
Helen Weinzweig pionierka literatury feministycznej w Kanadzie, pochodziła z polskiego Radomia, z którego wyemigrowała z matką jako dziecko. Narratorką książki jest Shirley, kobieta wplątana w romans z tajemniczym szpiegiem, z którym spotyka się w po kryjomu w hotelach na całym świecie. Nikt nie może się o nich dowiedzieć, nie mogą pozostać żadne dowody ich romansu, a do schadzek dochodzi zawsze w dziwnych nieplanowanych okolicznościach. No dobra, w tym moim opisie brzmi to trochę tanio, ale zrzućmy to na moj brak umiejętności. Za to autorce ich nie brakuje, promise!
Jedna z bardziej nieoczywistych książek jakie ostatnio czytałam. Niedookreślona, trochę oniryczna, a nawet paranoiczna, w której nie jesteśmy przekonani czy to co czytamy to na pewno rzeczywistość, szczególnie kiedy Shirley mówi np.: „dla mnie słowo pisane ma tak ogromną siłę, że pojawiłoby się zagrożenie, że uwierzę w to, co sobie wyobraziłam”. Weinzweig nie daje nam jednoznacznych wyjaśnień, nie ułatwia śledzenia fabuły przez nielinearną narrację, nie wiemy czy Shirley snuje się po istniejącym mieście czy po jakiejś alternatywnej przestrzeni. Zaciera granice między tym co realne, a tym co być może wyobrażone, a może właśnie to wyobrażone jest w pełni prawdziwe? Mam tyle pytań, zero odpowiedzi, ale mnóstwo opcji interpretacji, choć jedna z nich została obalona w posłowiu tłumaczki.
Książka określana jest jako surrealistyczny thriller, ale to tylko wierzchnia warstwa, a głębiej jest ich więcej, w tym ta najważniejsza, feministyczna o pozycji kobiet oraz o presji i oczekiwaniach, które nakłada na nie społeczeństwo.
Ja jestem zachwycona i kocham takie niekonwencjonalne pisarki.
„Jeśli Coenraad, z powodów, do których robił aluzje, już nigdy więcej się ze mną nie spotka, na co wymienię noce spędzane z nim? Może wymienię to półżycie wypełnione czekaniem na pełne życie, jakiego jeszcze nie próbowałam? Rzecz jest warta rozważenia”.
Jedna z bardziej nieoczywistych książek jakie ostatnio czytałam. Niedookreślona, trochę oniryczna, a nawet paranoiczna, w której nie jesteśmy przekonani czy to co czytamy to na pewno rzeczywistość, szczególnie kiedy Shirley mówi np.: „dla mnie słowo pisane ma tak ogromną siłę, że pojawiłoby się zagrożenie, że uwierzę w to, co sobie wyobraziłam”. Weinzweig nie daje nam jednoznacznych wyjaśnień, nie ułatwia śledzenia fabuły przez nielinearną narrację, nie wiemy czy Shirley snuje się po istniejącym mieście czy po jakiejś alternatywnej przestrzeni. Zaciera granice między tym co realne, a tym co być może wyobrażone, a może właśnie to wyobrażone jest w pełni prawdziwe? Mam tyle pytań, zero odpowiedzi, ale mnóstwo opcji interpretacji, choć jedna z nich została obalona w posłowiu tłumaczki.
Książka określana jest jako surrealistyczny thriller, ale to tylko wierzchnia warstwa, a głębiej jest ich więcej, w tym ta najważniejsza, feministyczna o pozycji kobiet oraz o presji i oczekiwaniach, które nakłada na nie społeczeństwo.
Ja jestem zachwycona i kocham takie niekonwencjonalne pisarki.
„Jeśli Coenraad, z powodów, do których robił aluzje, już nigdy więcej się ze mną nie spotka, na co wymienię noce spędzane z nim? Może wymienię to półżycie wypełnione czekaniem na pełne życie, jakiego jeszcze nie próbowałam? Rzecz jest warta rozważenia”.
November 27, 2024
Kitabın arka kapak yazısını okuduğunuzda bambaşka bir şey okuyacağınızı düşünüyorsunuz ki kitap en başında da bu beklentinin karşılığını veriyor aslında. Ancak belli bir noktadan sonra zemin yavaş yavaş altınızdan kaymaya, bazı şeyler anlamsız gelmeye başlıyor. Bu noktada ilginizi yitirebilirsiniz ama Helen Weinzweig o kadar sade ve akıcı bir dil kullanıyor ki hayal kırıklığı yaşasanız da yarım bırakamıyorsunuz işte o eşiği aştıktan sonra da kitap bambaşka bir şeye evriliyor. Bu arada sade bir dil noktası sizi yanıltmasın çünkü kısa, karmaşık olmayan cümlelerin alt metni çok etkileyici. Sıradan bir aldatma hikayesi okuyacağınızı sanıyorken; göçmenliği, aile travmalarını ve yoksulluğu, okurunu bütün dramların altında ezmeden ama derinden sarsarak anlatıyor. Belli bir noktadan sonra neyin hayal ürünü neyin gerçek olduğunu takip edemiyorsunuz ama o noktaya geldiğinizde gerçeklik önemini tamamen kaybediyor. Çünkü Shirley’nin sallanan akıl sağlığından özgürlüğe yürüyüşü ve bu yolda iyi ya da kötü bir karakter çizmeden kendi olması bütün gerçeküstü öğelerine rağmen kitabı oldukça gerçekçi yapıyor. Yukarıda söylediklerimden dolayı herkes okusun diyemem. Ama farklı bir şeyler okumaya dair isteğiniz ve zamanınız varsa mutlaka bir göz atın derim, ben çok sevdim.
September 16, 2019
What did I just read? And who will talk to me about it now?!!!
This would make a fantastic book club pick. See above.
(Edit to add that if you’re going to read this book don’t read anything about it beforehand! I haven’t shared any thoughts here except some comments about the writing and mood, but now that I’m reading reviews...they’re out there. Beware. I’m so glad I went into it cold. You’ll want to discover for yourself.)
I really enjoyed the writing. I could visualize the scenes and encounters the woman (wearing the basic black dress w/pearls) had with her lover and various other people. And the locations she describes were amazing.
Somehow NYRB has the ability to publish fiction that puzzles, challenges, entertains, and inspires awe. Someday I want to join their book club and read one per month. But first I need to get through my TBR. Which has a few more of these (hopefully) gems.
Tomorrow I will be texting my friend Ryan. (Russell did you read it too? I'll be off to search my GR friends as soon as I save my thoughts here.)
This would make a fantastic book club pick. See above.
(Edit to add that if you’re going to read this book don’t read anything about it beforehand! I haven’t shared any thoughts here except some comments about the writing and mood, but now that I’m reading reviews...they’re out there. Beware. I’m so glad I went into it cold. You’ll want to discover for yourself.)
I really enjoyed the writing. I could visualize the scenes and encounters the woman (wearing the basic black dress w/pearls) had with her lover and various other people. And the locations she describes were amazing.
Somehow NYRB has the ability to publish fiction that puzzles, challenges, entertains, and inspires awe. Someday I want to join their book club and read one per month. But first I need to get through my TBR. Which has a few more of these (hopefully) gems.
Tomorrow I will be texting my friend Ryan. (Russell did you read it too? I'll be off to search my GR friends as soon as I save my thoughts here.)
June 26, 2021
Táto kniha ma vôbec neokúzlila. Myslím si, že chápem pointu a celkom ju dokážem oceniť, ale okrem toho to pre mňa nebolo vôbec inšpiratívne alebo zaujímavé čítanie, skôr ťažké sebapremáhanie. Tento štýl písania je podľa mňa navyše absolútne hrozný a preceňovaný - stratiť čitateľa v polovici každého tretieho odseku podľa mňa nie je ani hrozne "deep", ani ťažko umelecké. Je to proste otrava. A zároveň... nerozumiem tomu, čo je na tomto... románe? (novele?) feministické - je to príbeh o žene, ktorá sa deliricky prechádza svojím mestom a spomína na mestá, v ktorých spala s chlapom, ktorý jej okrem sexu vlastne nikdy nič nedal, ale bolo to akčné vzrúšo, ktoré sa naša hrdinka rozhodne pod náporom sebaspytovania opustiť, lebo... Lebo o tom je celá kniha, a aj hlavná hrdinka si uvedomí, že je to vlastne o ničom. 2/5, ale iba pre halucináciu s obrazom. Bolo to utrpenie, a to si skromne myslím, že znesiem veľa.
February 14, 2025
new favorite
hard to explain but feels like a spiritual predecessor to all fours
hard to explain but feels like a spiritual predecessor to all fours
Read
March 2, 2022La sensación al acabar este libro ha sido la de tener ganas de leerlo de nuevo inmediatamente. Una novela siempre es un viaje para mí y este estaba siendo de los buenos, me recordaba a veces a otras historias magníficas sobre relaciones de abandono sentimental al estilo de Un amor, de Sara Mesa, de esas que enganchan y que sabes que te van a durar entre las manos dos sentadas. Eso creía, hasta que llegaron las últimas quince o veinte páginas y me han dado tal revolcón para rematar la jugada que me tengo que quitar el sombrero. No sé cómo es posible que Jane Campion no haya hecho una peli de esto todavía.
Basic black with pearls, de Helen Weinzweig, vio la luz por primera vez en 1980, hoy por hoy es considerado un clásico feminista, aunque yo no había oído nunca hablar de él, pero mi ignorancia literaria es enorme, claro, y, aunque el libro fue muy bien recibido y galardonado por la crítica, parece ser que lxs lectorxs no estaban entonces preparados para esto, para lo doméstico, diría yo. Ya sabemos que Lucia Berlin tuvo un problema similar con sus relatos. Al igual que ella, Weinzweig no comenzó a escribir con ganas hasta pasada la cuarentena —¿veis? esto me da muchas esperanzas ;)— y acabó siendo publicada por primera vez a los cincuenta y dos años. A diferencia de Berlin, Weinzweig no solo trata lo doméstico, no se conforma ni deja que la vida la atraviese sin más, sino que cavila sobre cómo se siente y si hay posibilidad de cambio mientras se demoran sus deseos. Así es como consigue que estés en tensión, a través de la espera. Además, hace una cosa que a mí me aterra en la vida real: llevar a su protagonista al barrio donde creció. Yo no he vuelto al mío desde que tenía diecinueve años. Siempre que voy a Córdoba digo que voy a ir, pero me da miedo encontrarme con mis propios fantasmas (mi yo de nueve años, mi yo de catorce, mi yo de seis), de la misma manera que Shirley, se topa de una forma muy particular con los suyos. Fascinada me hallo todavía.
Basic black with pearls, de Helen Weinzweig, vio la luz por primera vez en 1980, hoy por hoy es considerado un clásico feminista, aunque yo no había oído nunca hablar de él, pero mi ignorancia literaria es enorme, claro, y, aunque el libro fue muy bien recibido y galardonado por la crítica, parece ser que lxs lectorxs no estaban entonces preparados para esto, para lo doméstico, diría yo. Ya sabemos que Lucia Berlin tuvo un problema similar con sus relatos. Al igual que ella, Weinzweig no comenzó a escribir con ganas hasta pasada la cuarentena —¿veis? esto me da muchas esperanzas ;)— y acabó siendo publicada por primera vez a los cincuenta y dos años. A diferencia de Berlin, Weinzweig no solo trata lo doméstico, no se conforma ni deja que la vida la atraviese sin más, sino que cavila sobre cómo se siente y si hay posibilidad de cambio mientras se demoran sus deseos. Así es como consigue que estés en tensión, a través de la espera. Además, hace una cosa que a mí me aterra en la vida real: llevar a su protagonista al barrio donde creció. Yo no he vuelto al mío desde que tenía diecinueve años. Siempre que voy a Córdoba digo que voy a ir, pero me da miedo encontrarme con mis propios fantasmas (mi yo de nueve años, mi yo de catorce, mi yo de seis), de la misma manera que Shirley, se topa de una forma muy particular con los suyos. Fascinada me hallo todavía.
June 15, 2024
200 stron, a gryzłam, żułam i trawiłam ponad tydzień. I to z przyjemnością. Spodoba się, jeśli lubujecie się w narracjach niejednoznacznych, a światy przedstawione wolicie raczej niedookreślone niż w pełni czytelne. To taka powieść, którą czytacie i nieustannie pytacie siebie: „Halo, co się dzieje? Kiedy to się stało? Teraz czy wcześniej? I, do diaska, czy to w ogóle stało się kiedykolwiek???”. No, dla mnie bomba.
A poza tym Helen Wenzweig jest cudownie feministyczna. Gdyby nie przepadła niegdyś w mroku dziejów, dziś byłaby klasyczką.
„Strych jest pod każdym względem oddalony od przerażenia, które panuje niżej. Jeśli zmuszę się, żeby tam dotrzeć, nikt nie będzie pytał, dlaczego się tam znalazłam. Lokatorzy tych gniazd to raczej wróble niż jastrzębie. Ich samotność to wynik natury pozbawionej szponów. Ktokolwiek jest na górze (…), po cichych odgłosach moich kroków rozpozna we mnie siostrę w nieśmiałości”.
A poza tym Helen Wenzweig jest cudownie feministyczna. Gdyby nie przepadła niegdyś w mroku dziejów, dziś byłaby klasyczką.
„Strych jest pod każdym względem oddalony od przerażenia, które panuje niżej. Jeśli zmuszę się, żeby tam dotrzeć, nikt nie będzie pytał, dlaczego się tam znalazłam. Lokatorzy tych gniazd to raczej wróble niż jastrzębie. Ich samotność to wynik natury pozbawionej szponów. Ktokolwiek jest na górze (…), po cichych odgłosach moich kroków rozpozna we mnie siostrę w nieśmiałości”.
December 14, 2023
"An interior feminist espionage novel" - Sarah Weinman, The Paris Review
Definitely add to your list if you love Barbara Comyns, Shirley Jackson, Patricia Highsmith, Mavis Gallant.
“One of the things I had to learn after reading all this male fiction was, what do I as a woman feel like,” Weinzweig said in a 1990 interview. “All the literary forms were men’s, all the philosophies were men’s philosophies … I had to translate these forms into the female.”
Weinzweig published her first novel, "Passing Ceremony," at age 58.
Definitely add to your list if you love Barbara Comyns, Shirley Jackson, Patricia Highsmith, Mavis Gallant.
“One of the things I had to learn after reading all this male fiction was, what do I as a woman feel like,” Weinzweig said in a 1990 interview. “All the literary forms were men’s, all the philosophies were men’s philosophies … I had to translate these forms into the female.”
Weinzweig published her first novel, "Passing Ceremony," at age 58.
June 23, 2018
Three stars while reading, five stars while pondering.
June 5, 2022
Not at all about a spinster, but the narrative is brimming over with SpinsterLit energy.
December 18, 2018
The use of the word noir as a descriptor turned my expectations for this novel in the direction of a mystery or thriller. It's not exactly that. Noir can apply to the psychology of characters, I suppose, and as it probably can be applied here. At first, though, the novel's fairly straightforward. Shirley Kaszenbowski is having an extended affair with the secretive Coenraad, who works for some government's Agency. She travels to meet him in distant locations all over the world, all destinations arranged by an intricate code passed between them through issues of the National Geographic. Now she's arrived in Toronto, Canada, which also happens to be her home, and where she sets out putting the clues together to complete her rendezvous with him.
Near the middle of the novel the reader begins to realize there's a deeper mystery to Shirley. One begins to think of the David Markson novel Wittgenstein's Mistress. And so it's with satisfaction that the reader finds in Sarah Weinman's "Afterword" the insight that Helen Weinzweig was also aware of the similarities between her Shirley Kaszenbowski and Markson's Kate, and kept a copy of his novel on her shelf. Markson's novel was published 8 years after Basic Black with Pearls; it's not known if he'd read Weinzweig. I see less clearly another harmony pointed out, that of Shirley with Marjorie Morningstar of the 1955 Herman Wouk novel.
There are more pleasures here for me than the rhyming of heroines. Also near the middle of the novel Ariadne is mentioned. The daughter of the Cretan King Minos, she helps Theseus find his way out of the Labyrinth after he kills the Minotaur. The Labyrinth in Weinzweig's novel is Toronto. In searching for her lover, Shirley's several passages through the high-towered streets of downtown Toronto is described in detail. As one who lives near Toronto and has walked down those cool streets and has descended into the warm breath of subway entrances Shirley enters, I found myself relating keenly to the novel. She captures the diversity of people on the street, too. If Weinzweig doesn't do for Toronto what Joyce did for Dublin, her love for the city shows even as she recognizes how it may weigh down some with a fragile spirit.
I've made it sound dark because it is. Her search through the sunless, labyrinthine streets, the identity of the man she's trying to connect with, her past so much on her mind, are all shadows on the novel. But like any good mystery, it's solved in the end. Resolved, made clear. In the end Shirley Kaszenbowski isn't like Wittgenstein's mistress; she has found other rendezvous and has lit the beacon of her feminism to guide her.
Near the middle of the novel the reader begins to realize there's a deeper mystery to Shirley. One begins to think of the David Markson novel Wittgenstein's Mistress. And so it's with satisfaction that the reader finds in Sarah Weinman's "Afterword" the insight that Helen Weinzweig was also aware of the similarities between her Shirley Kaszenbowski and Markson's Kate, and kept a copy of his novel on her shelf. Markson's novel was published 8 years after Basic Black with Pearls; it's not known if he'd read Weinzweig. I see less clearly another harmony pointed out, that of Shirley with Marjorie Morningstar of the 1955 Herman Wouk novel.
There are more pleasures here for me than the rhyming of heroines. Also near the middle of the novel Ariadne is mentioned. The daughter of the Cretan King Minos, she helps Theseus find his way out of the Labyrinth after he kills the Minotaur. The Labyrinth in Weinzweig's novel is Toronto. In searching for her lover, Shirley's several passages through the high-towered streets of downtown Toronto is described in detail. As one who lives near Toronto and has walked down those cool streets and has descended into the warm breath of subway entrances Shirley enters, I found myself relating keenly to the novel. She captures the diversity of people on the street, too. If Weinzweig doesn't do for Toronto what Joyce did for Dublin, her love for the city shows even as she recognizes how it may weigh down some with a fragile spirit.
I've made it sound dark because it is. Her search through the sunless, labyrinthine streets, the identity of the man she's trying to connect with, her past so much on her mind, are all shadows on the novel. But like any good mystery, it's solved in the end. Resolved, made clear. In the end Shirley Kaszenbowski isn't like Wittgenstein's mistress; she has found other rendezvous and has lit the beacon of her feminism to guide her.
July 16, 2018
I picked up “Basic Black with Pearls” by Helen Weinzweig at the Boulder Bookstore while visiting a week ago. I didn’t know anything about this novel, but I saw it promoted by its publisher, NYRB, and I knew I needed it. This book doesn’t have a foreword, which is appropriate. Going into this book knowing nothing about it is the purest, best way to approach this novel which I couldn’t categorize or try to fit in a box if I wanted to. It’s a book that is so surprising and genre-defying that I can see it being very polarizing: either you “get it” or you don’t, either you love it, or you don’t.
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Don’t let this novel of a slim 145 pages fool you. It’s not a fast read. Weinzweig was quoted in the afterword as saying it takes a year to write 20 good pages, and it makes sense that it took six years to write this. Unlike other plot-driven books, this one is delicately crafted. It’s a book that comes not from physical activity but is driven all by the interior, the mind, emotion, something mystical. To say that Basic Black is atmospheric would be an understatement and misleading. This book is not a stifling miasma settling over a story, but vital like breath, urgent, alive. This is not a summer book, though I enjoyed it in the heat of July. This piece encourages the reader to get under a blanket, pour a cup of tea, and devote a couple hours to the main character in the titular wardrobe.
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Read the afterword, if you pick up the NYRB edition. You’ll get more information about Weinzweig’s career and family, which adds much more context to this novel. • Trade Paperback • Fiction • ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ • Purchased at Boulder Bookstore.▪️
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Don’t let this novel of a slim 145 pages fool you. It’s not a fast read. Weinzweig was quoted in the afterword as saying it takes a year to write 20 good pages, and it makes sense that it took six years to write this. Unlike other plot-driven books, this one is delicately crafted. It’s a book that comes not from physical activity but is driven all by the interior, the mind, emotion, something mystical. To say that Basic Black is atmospheric would be an understatement and misleading. This book is not a stifling miasma settling over a story, but vital like breath, urgent, alive. This is not a summer book, though I enjoyed it in the heat of July. This piece encourages the reader to get under a blanket, pour a cup of tea, and devote a couple hours to the main character in the titular wardrobe.
•
Read the afterword, if you pick up the NYRB edition. You’ll get more information about Weinzweig’s career and family, which adds much more context to this novel. • Trade Paperback • Fiction • ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ • Purchased at Boulder Bookstore.▪️
February 19, 2018
"We solitaries came towards one another, passed; other came up from behind and passed me; at times we walked side by side for a few paces. Soon I got a sense of common activity: I thought, I would like nothing better than to link my arm through yours and we would walk along together. Acts of fellowship, I reflected sadly, take place only during bombings and public hangings. Under normal conditions strangers must avoid the other's strangeness."
April 25, 2024
piekielnie wymagająca, ale ładna
April 26, 2024
Do tej lektury trzeba podejść ze świadomością, że ma ona wiele warstw i nie będziemy wiedzieć, która jest prawdziwa. W warstwie fabularnej będziemy podążać za dojrzałą kobietą przemierzającą ulice swojego rodzinnego miasta Toronto. Przyczynkiem do tej wędrówki będzie chęć ponownego odszyfrowania kodu, za pomocą którego zawsze odnajdywała miejsce kolejnej schadzki ze swoim kochankiem-szpiegiem. Jeśli spojrzymy na tę książkę w płytki sposób, to zetkniemy się z wyidealizowanym mężczyzną oraz jednostronną relacją kobiety, która poświęca w tym romansie więcej niż jej partner. To los kieruje narratorką, a nie ona swoim losem. Podążą ślepo na skraju jawy i snu, realizmu i majaków osoby nie do końca zdrowej na umyśle.
Niektórych czytelników ta gra pozorów może zmęczyć, a inni będą śledzić te dziwaczną wierność kochankowi i snucie się po zakamarkach szaleństwa z pełną atencją. Autorka czekała wiele lat na swój debiut, ponieważ liczą się dla niej słowa i chciała, by stworzyć coś wyjątkowego i jak widać, udało się jej. Manifestuje się to szczególnie w opisach miast, wnętrz i ludzi, te rezonowały z moim poczuciem estetyki. Zasiadając jednak do „Małej czarnej i perły” musimy wziąć pod uwagę, że jest to powieść będąca dobrze uszytym przebraniem, a po jej sens trzeba sięgnąć głębiej. Jeśli umknie nam skupienie podczas lektury, to jej odczyt może bywać męczący i to na to osobiste zmęczenie zrzucam winę za mój momentami nużący odbiór tej niewielkiej powieści. Jestem jednak przekonana, że wielu czytelników pochłoną meandry enigmatycznej osobowości, jaką niewątpliwie jest narratorka.
Niektórych czytelników ta gra pozorów może zmęczyć, a inni będą śledzić te dziwaczną wierność kochankowi i snucie się po zakamarkach szaleństwa z pełną atencją. Autorka czekała wiele lat na swój debiut, ponieważ liczą się dla niej słowa i chciała, by stworzyć coś wyjątkowego i jak widać, udało się jej. Manifestuje się to szczególnie w opisach miast, wnętrz i ludzi, te rezonowały z moim poczuciem estetyki. Zasiadając jednak do „Małej czarnej i perły” musimy wziąć pod uwagę, że jest to powieść będąca dobrze uszytym przebraniem, a po jej sens trzeba sięgnąć głębiej. Jeśli umknie nam skupienie podczas lektury, to jej odczyt może bywać męczący i to na to osobiste zmęczenie zrzucam winę za mój momentami nużący odbiór tej niewielkiej powieści. Jestem jednak przekonana, że wielu czytelników pochłoną meandry enigmatycznej osobowości, jaką niewątpliwie jest narratorka.
July 5, 2022
Another “woman-on-the-edge” book for the shelves… I’m dizzy after this one. RTC
August 1, 2019
Well, I am in the minority on this one, but I did not enjoy this book. I did not, in fact, finish it, though that was not entirely my fault; the e-book copy that I got from my local library expired last night and I do not care enough about what happens to Shirley/Lola to renew it. Really, nothing happens to Shirley/Lola in the book so it does not seem worth it to me to read more nothingness...
I feel sad and disappointed that I did not enjoy this book, because I was looking forward to reading it. It is a Canadian book lauded as being a 'feminist landmark' from a time in my life when I was figuring out what feminism meant for me. But alas, the book seems to only come through on two of those promises and not well on them in any case. It is still from that of my life, but in a different, gloomier, blander way than I remember from those days. It is also Canadian, but in the worst way that Canadian literature can be. As for the feminist part? I fail to see it... how is a woman wandering around (usually literally) mooning about some guy who might or might not exist, and guy who sounds really emotionally abusive, 'feminist'. That's not feminist that's just plain old chick-lit and I avoid chick-lit because it is largely the anti-feminist trope of women wandering around mooning about guys. Blargh!
Maybe I missed the feminist part, and definitely I have no time or energy or desire to renew this book from the library to see where it goes, because if the first 3/4 tell me anything it is that it goes nowhere and has no real feminism in it. Plus, I have too many books on my TBR list, and too little time to spend on books I do not enjoy. I am too busy at the moment building my businesses, all in male-dominated fields, because, you know, actual feminism*...
*These are the fields I enjoy working in, am trained in, and wish to pursue, but it was actual feminism that helped me to have the opportunities to do it.
I feel sad and disappointed that I did not enjoy this book, because I was looking forward to reading it. It is a Canadian book lauded as being a 'feminist landmark' from a time in my life when I was figuring out what feminism meant for me. But alas, the book seems to only come through on two of those promises and not well on them in any case. It is still from that of my life, but in a different, gloomier, blander way than I remember from those days. It is also Canadian, but in the worst way that Canadian literature can be. As for the feminist part? I fail to see it... how is a woman wandering around (usually literally) mooning about some guy who might or might not exist, and guy who sounds really emotionally abusive, 'feminist'. That's not feminist that's just plain old chick-lit and I avoid chick-lit because it is largely the anti-feminist trope of women wandering around mooning about guys. Blargh!
Maybe I missed the feminist part, and definitely I have no time or energy or desire to renew this book from the library to see where it goes, because if the first 3/4 tell me anything it is that it goes nowhere and has no real feminism in it. Plus, I have too many books on my TBR list, and too little time to spend on books I do not enjoy. I am too busy at the moment building my businesses, all in male-dominated fields, because, you know, actual feminism*...
*These are the fields I enjoy working in, am trained in, and wish to pursue, but it was actual feminism that helped me to have the opportunities to do it.
January 21, 2022
Miestami fascinujúci úlet, miestami rozvláčne a (no áno, aj) trošku nudné, posledné strany parádne. Je to podivná kniha, mieša sa realita s vnútorným svetom a retrospektívou, vedlajšie postavy naberajú identitu hlavnej postavy, je to snové, melancholické, ženské, smutné, osamelé. Veľa si čitateľ skladá pomedzi riadky. Dialo sa to celé len v hlave, či naozaj? Hlavná hrdinka i ja sme sa stratili a našli, za to vďaka.
Kniha,pri ktorej som bola presvedčená, že jej dám 3 hviezdičky ale záverečné strany boli také dobré, že zvažujem hviezdičky štyri :D Tak zatiaľ 3.5.
Kniha,pri ktorej som bola presvedčená, že jej dám 3 hviezdičky ale záverečné strany boli také dobré, že zvažujem hviezdičky štyri :D Tak zatiaľ 3.5.
August 23, 2022
I actually loved this. Writing is fantastic. Story is so fantastical, kind of like a jumbled up dream? And so so sad. But also amazing.
My review is reading like the book does - ha! Anyway, I loved this.
My review is reading like the book does - ha! Anyway, I loved this.
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