Katherine Forrester Vigneras, in a continuation of her story from The Small Rain, returns to New York City from Europe to retire. Now in her seventies, she encounters an old friend from her Greenwich Village days who, it turns out, is the former Bishop of New York. He asks Katherine to give a benefit concert at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. This leads to new demands on her resources--human, artistic, psychological, and spiritual--that are entirely unexpected.
Madeleine L'Engle was an American writer of fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and young adult fiction, including A Wrinkle in Time and its sequels: A Wind in the Door, A Swiftly Tilting Planet, Many Waters, and An Acceptable Time. Her works reflect both her Christian faith and her strong interest in modern science.
Wisdom, happiness, freedom and lots of other things are so desirable that we pursue them purely for themselves, though they are only attainable as means or by-products of our other, less tempting goals. They are like unexpected guests who come and go and never stay for long. The more one is trying to take hold of them, the more elusive and annoyed they become. So, when wisdom is the main goal in the story (or life) and everything else is subdued to it, there is a chance of converting a novel into sermon and excitement into dullness, by leaving out the alluring fuel that is made of inner conflicts, trials, transforming dialogue between the characters and their circumstances. To a moderate degree this happened to A Severed Wasp.
A retired piano virtuoso returns to her birthplace to find solace, but bumps into an old acquaintance that needs her help. Between warm baths, herbal tea rituals and neck massages she finds the time to heat up her experience-made pot and pour the wisdom among the thirsty gathering that loiters around. She becomes a sage for the church congregation, a mentor to their prodigal children and a prosecutor of the mischief among them. Former pop star, reminiscences of Nazism and homophobic calls mingle in.
What makes the plot bizarre is the fact that it is a sequel to Little rain, a simple novel written around fifty years earlier, that resembles any other coming-of-age book. The author and protagonist surely have matured; the youthful determination and sincerity that made the prequel somewhat bearable have been replaced with stiffness and versatile plot twists that the protagonist, like god, straightens out with her magical touch. The old age seems to smooth the strains and edges like rivers do with pebbles. Unfortunately, the fun is not so much in the final result as it is in transformation.
This is, by far, my very favorite L'Engle piece. Since she was a family friend, I grew up reading all of her books since they were what I always got for birthdays, Christmas and anniversaries of baptism. As I grew older, I was given books like this one, or A Live Coal in the Sea, and I fell in love all over again. This, more than the others, has been a staple in the readings of my life. I read it over and over again, perpetually amazed at the magic that comes from her words. I feel so at home in this book, surrounded by music and God. Once, I used this novel as a devotional to try to mix-up my Bible Study routine, and tried to find the workings of God in every character in every page. It was one of the greatest things I've ever done for myself, because I find that I relate so well to the characters, and can find new ways to relate to God through them.
If you're not sure that you want to read this book, remember that action comes before faith. Read the book, and you won't be able to put it down.
"A Severed Wasp" kept me engaged and I read it quickly. There were certainly some wonderful lines in this book, and continuing Katherine's story is a treat, but I do agree with other reviews that mentioned that at times the soap opera melodrama is heaped on.
I read this immediately after devouring "The Small Rain" and enjoyed seeing where the years had taken both L'Engle as a writer and Madame Vigneras as a character... both matured and deepened in the 40+ years that passed between the two novels, as one rightly expects, but there were several times I could imagine this book being about a different heroine altogether as Katherine and many of the characters from the first book have drastically departed from who they were when last we left them.
While I ultimately enjoyed The Small Rain more, the themes in this book disrupted and challenged me in helpful ways. Both are worth a read. Forgiveness, aging, and fidelity were explored through complex relationships, perhaps the most unexpected of which is that of art and religion. Katherine is a window cleaner, after all.
There are too many things I like about this book to give it three stars but too many thinks wrong with it to give it five. What I like: the overall story, revisiting Katherine and other characters from L'Engle's bibliography, the feel of the book, the ultimate message, all the pages I have dog-eared, L'Engle's writing, the people in the Cathedral Close community, the suspense, the mystery, the flashbacks of Katherine's life, the revelations from other people's pasts, as disturbing as they can be sometimes, Felix, the way they all share and help each other, no questions asked, the descriptions of NY in the summer, the thunderstorm, etc. What's wrong: it's old, but it's more outdated than it should be because I think L'Engle just really had a hard time coming to terms with how much the world had changed, using NYC as a microcosm or cesspool, actually, for the changes, but she comes off very old fashioned and judgmental; there are some awkward moments, like when Mimi tells Katherine she loves to touch her, or when Katherine tells Emily to sleep with her (Emily is a little girl; Mimi is a straight woman) that I think L'Engle was using to make a point but that come off so very cringe in 2021; the commentaries on minorities (Haitians, for one, and my brother-in-law and niece are Haitian, so that's an issue; she even has a character complain about signs in Spanish because, when the Italians ran the neighborhood, there were no signs in Italian--this makes sense, and it's a good point, but why?; Katherine seems very prejudiced against the Chinese clergyman, making comments about his skin and features and personality; a black baby in the hospital is called a "little black button," this is weird, and it bothers me; another one that I'm going to put all on its own next); the villains, essentially, are all Hispanic--Katherine forgives (and more than forgives) a German who held her hostage during the war, but she says she can't forgive Yolande for having something to do with Emily's accident, yet she makes the comment that Yolande went through a lot and is scarred by her past. So, she's unforgiveable, but a man who sided with the Nazis is forgivable because he had a change of heart (I agree that Lukas is forgivable, btw, I just don't like the hypocrisy that favors the racial majority in the novel). So, out of all the white characters in the book, nobody could be involved in Emily's accident and the threatening phone calls. It had to be the woman from South America who was a drug addict and the people with the last name Gomez, who are, by the way, drug dealers and cooks, and their child is named Fatima but nicknamed Fatty and is in fact, chubby, and everyone comments on her weight, on the weight of a thirteen-year-old girl?? (You can't see me, but I'm smirking at the screen). First rant over. Finally, the sexism is appalling. Katherine should have a baby for her husband who was castrated during the war because he wants it to appease his own toxic masculinity, and he just expects her to FIND SOMEONE TO HAVE SEX WITH JUST TO GET PREGNANT SO HE CAN CLAIM HER CHILD AS HIS OWN AND NOBODY WILL KNOW IT'S NOT HIS, and she's appalled, but she does it. Twice. And L'Engle makes it okay because Katherine is genuinely attracted to both men and even loves one of them, but come on. Now, that I think about it, this is what Sarai does to Abram in Genesis, so it's not really sexism. It's just pure selfishness, which is Justin's character to me. Katherine has to defend him a few times and say that he wasn't too hard on her, but he was. He absolutely was abusive to her. He calls her young and childish and like a girl all the time, and he yells at her all the time, and pushes her to perform even after her child was killed, and he pushes her to practice the piano when she's clearly suffering from post-partum after almost dying after giving birth. L'Engle makes a huge point of showing that Katherine and Justin had a loving, healthy marriage, but it's not healthy to have this dynamic or to have two children who you all pretend are yours when you both know they're not, and Justin never asks her who the fathers are, who she had sex with, to get pregnant. Oh, and she doesn't tell either man that she's sleeping with them without protection on purpose to have their babies, to offer them to her husband as his own, so these men have no idea they have children out there (at first). It's weird, and I don't get it. She goes to great lengths to show that sex isn't everything, and people can make it work, saying that everyone is unfaithful, which I don't agree with, and saying that forgiveness is important, even to telling a young, pregnant woman to forgive and accept her husband when she finds him in bed with another man. And it works out. The theme works out. The ultimate message is there, and it's strong. But all these other things along the way just made me annoyed. Clearly. Officially, rant over. My feelings about this book are all over the place because the things that bother me really bother me, but the things I love, I really love. Ambivalence at its finest. This should lead to a three-star rating or maybe lower, but that's the conundrum. I want to give it four stars, but they're very hard-won stars for me. I can't recommend this book for the reasons above, so let me just drop a passage that shows why I gave this four stars: This is Felix's sermon: "The psalmist sings that he has never seen the good man forsaken, nor his children begging for bread. But good men and their children go hungry every day. And we come to the ancient question: If God is good, why do the wicked flourish, and the innocent suffer? They do; the wicked flourish, and children die of malnutrition, or drugs; there is continuing war and disease and untimely death, and we cry out, Why!? "And God answers by coming to live with us, to limit himself willingly in the flesh of a human child--how can that be? The power that created the stars in their courses contained in an infant come to live with us, grow for us, die for us, and on the third day rise again from the dead for us. "And what did this incredible sacrifice accomplish? Nothing. On the surface, nothing at all. More than half of the world is starving. The planet is torn apart by wars, half of them in the name of religion. We have surely done more harm throughout Christendom in the name of Christ than we have done good. Rape and murder and crimes of violence increase... So what is it all about? How can it possibly matter? "I don't know how it matters; I only know that it does, that when we suffer, God suffers, and he will never abandon the smallest fragment of his creation. He suffered with us during his sojourn as Jesus of Nazareth. And from the moment of Creation on, he suffers when any part of his creation suffers. Daily I add to his suffering... But he will not give up on me, not now, not after my mortal death. He will not give up on any of us, until we have become what he meant us to be. I know this. I do not know how it will be done, but I know that it will be. I know that my Redeemer lives, and that I shall see him face to face... Amen."
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Um, WTF ML'E? This has a bizarre soap opera storyline. So much craziness without a real purpose for it. She clearly has all kinds of things to work out with homosexuality...and race. And these to Katherine Forrester Vigneras books are none too feminist-friendly. Yikes and yikes.
Here's a quote that reflects a major theme (unhappy jealous women) in the book: "Unhappy women often want to make their sons hate their fathers, in order to keep on possessing them, even beyond the grave. You have just seen what an unhappy, jealous woman can be driven to do."
Also, spoiler alert, the only people of color in the book are the villains.
There's lots of creepy older man/younger women stuff, as usual.
I love ML'E on the whole, but I really, really don't like her beauty obsession. Any woman of value must be or become beautiful (Meg, Polly, Flip, Katherine, etc.) and ugliness usually is equated with bad temperment.
So, majorly disappointed in this one and makes me dislike more The Small Rain in retrospect.
I kept reading this one hoping I would like it more than I did - it was very slow and measured, and everyone sat around at drank tea a lot. And ate dinner. And went to dinner parties. And took long baths. And in dribs and drabs in between all that there was some plot. But only a little bit. And very understated. A lot of people on Amazon loved this book, but it was just not for me.
This was an uglier read than I remembered. Some plot points were horrifying. The writing was classic L'Engle, always a plus, but the darkness dragged this book down. This is a personal perception - others may not mind the darkness - but L'Engle, to me, was a writer who saw hope in everything, who stressed that cliche silver lining. That clear-eyed joy in all things was what drew me to her works.
Other negatives: the plot wrapped up too hastily and the plethora of immensely talented people became frustrating. So did the insinuation that a lack of such talent is a heartbreaking thing. Why not celebrate average people?
This will be one of her books (possibly the only one) I never revisit.
The Severed Wasp is a meaningful book. I love the setting in New York on and around the cathedral of St. John the Divine.
The novel is loaded with interesting characters and their personal stories. The main character is a retired concert pianist Katherine Vigneras. She reconnects with an old friend from her youth who is now a bishop. Through him, she meets many in the cathedral community.
As the story unfolds, readers will see her come to terms with many painful and traumatic moments in her life. As she goes through these memories, she finds that she is regard as a person of great strength and character by others. She reaches out to help other characters in the novel who are experiencing their own difficulties.
Rather silly novel overflowing with more tragedies than a year's worth of soap opera scripts. All the characters speak in lengthy paragraphs and can divine a person's level of musical talent by looking into his or her eyes.
One of the great pleasures for me in reading this book is the chapter by chapter unfolding of the petals of a great blossom, the way perspective and points of view shift on astounding plot turns revealing completely new ways of looking at the cast of characters and the rest of the book. And this KEEPS happening thoughout the entire book! To write a review full of spoilers would take away the potential for that pleasure from future readers, so please excuse me if I avoid plot details entirely.
This book is one of my favorites of all time. Mme. Vigneras, the main character, is very subtle in her communications, with layers and layers of unstated meaning implied. Often when she makes a statement, it is for the specific purpose of eliciting a response from the other character or the reader, of provoking them into questioning or thinking more deeply about what was said. This is an incredibly richly textured book, requiring deep reading and looking explicitly between the lines. Each time I re-read it, I discover something I had previously missed in earlier readings. Many of the plot turns echo in the brain and challenge the reader to examine their own conscience, the context of the book, the perspectives of the characters, and more. They justly deserve a hard look and much thought, and it is a good sign when one's initial reading is disturbing, and has provoked a variety kinds of questions and emotions. As someone who has read this book more times than I can count, I assure you, the explanations and justifications ARE present in the book. However, finding them will require looking as deeply into oneself and those around you as into the book itself.
It's interesting to think that L'Engle wrote this novel so many years after "The Small Rain". We see Katherine Vigneras retired from piano performance and settling in NYC, reconnecting with a friend from long ago and getting drawn into a psychological drama. Again, I am amazed at the way people approach the main character. It's typically like this: "Katherine/Katya/Madame Vigneras, I've only known you for a few days/two minutes/an hour but I feel like you know my soul and so I'm going to talk to you in a way that most people only do with their therapist of twenty years." ! That feels a little odd, as if the main character is just a foil for confession on the part of others.
This book came out in the early 1980s, and L'Engle touches upon the cultural obsession with sex and sexuality in a very current way. (Nothing new under the sun, I suppose.) I do like the way Katherine talks about marriage as something that requires effort but is ultimately worth that effort, encouraging others to persevere and show grace to one another.
If a student turned writing like this in, I'd be proud. If I had never heard of the author, I would probably put it down. From Madeleine L'Engle, it's disappointing (and oh, does it hurt to say that). I'm only pushing through out of loyalty to her. This book would probably make a dynamite short story, but it just takes so long for everything to happen! It's a little soap-opera-y too, like too many sensationalist subplots. I do like the characterization. Whatever. I'm not quite done, but I know the last chapter won't change my mind. That certainty is what makes this book not as good as it could be. I wouldn't recommend it; go for Meet the Austins or A Wrinkle in Time and their successors.
This isn't my usual fare, but I'd read other L'Engle books previously and the blurb on the back cover sounded interesting--and goodness am I glad I picked this up. The depth and complexity of the characters are marvellous, and the way their personalities intertwine in the plot is superb. But more than the excellent writing and likeable, human, characters, the... mindset (if you will) or perhaps atmosphere of the book is what really drew me in. I loved the wisdom and compassion shown by the characters, the way they struggle and learn in and through the difficulties of life in order to find peace and resolution. This is the kind of book, I think, that leads one to do some soul examining and emerge therefrom healthier and richer of self, and therefore more compassionate and understanding of others.
I know I read this book before, but probably when I was too young to appreciate it, because I remember so little of it. I mainly remembered that it dealt, in part, with the children of grown-up Suzy from my favorite YA novel, "The Moon by Night." But I recently reread "The Small Rain" and decided to continue on with this.
Warning: Spoilers galore ahead.
Where to begin. First, Madeleine L'Engle has been my favorite author since I was a child. I devoured "Meet the Austins" and "The Moon by Night." I LOVED Vicky. When "A Ring of Endless Light" came out, I didn't think it could possibly measure up. But it did. I've read her Crosswicks Journal, her memoirs about her marriage, her books about religion: pretty much anything she's written that I could get my hands on. I visited the Chapel of St. John the Divine in Manhattan where she is interred. I did a presentation about her for my local library. My attachment to L'Engle is long and deep.
But this book annoyed me.
First, everyone in this book is gifted and talented. Brilliant pianist, painter, surgeon, dancer, bishop, confessor, conductor: everyone except one granddaughter, and I'll get to that later. I realize that these are the circles in which Katherine travels, but has she NO friends or even acquaintances who are shopkeepers, postal clerks, accountants, hairdressers? And everyone knows everything: "Is that painting a Hunter?" (Yes, now I have to reread "And Both Were Young"--the restored version.) The musical knowledge of "the young Davidsons" is staggering--and completely unrealistic.
A reviewer of another L'Engle novel mentioned that Madeline had a terrible ear for dialogue. I honestly never noticed that, until this book. Children do not talk as these children did. Not at all. The Davidson spawn annoyed the hell out of me. One of L'Engle's children said that he hated the Austin children because they were so perfect and so clearly the family his mother had wanted. But this family is worse. Only Tory acts the least bit like a real child. I assume John and Tory are named after John and Vicky Austin, or their mother, Victoria, but that is never mentioned. What is mentioned, however, is that Emily is named after Emily Gregory. Now to reread "The Arm of the Starfish"...
Throughout the novel, I was struck by how often a character's looks were mentioned. And not as a description, but a judgement. Most of them, of course, are stunningly beautiful, but if a character is fat or homely, that is pointed out repeatedly.
And was it me, or was L'Engle somewhat preoccupied with sex and homosexuality in this novel? It seemed as though she had discovered something new and wanted to show how open-minded she was about it. I know that isn't true, but I got a weird feeling from all the innuendo. What was with Yolande and the little girls? Many adults had less-than-loving childhoods, but they don't usually go around demanding that little girls kiss them on the mouth because of it. In a chapel. While married to a bishop. It was just creepy-weird.
Oh, and death. Way too much death. Death and suffering. Auschwitz. Babies and children. Castration. Amputations. Freak carnival accidents. Suicide. Death in childbirth. Beatings. Scars. Too much.
Last, I have two questions. Early on, Katherine said that her daughter, Julie, was married to Erland's nephew, Eric. Then we find out that Erland is Julie's biological father. Does that not make Julie and Eric cousins? Are we to believe that great-granddaughter Juliana, who is described as "simple," is that way because of inbreeding? Or am I reading too much into this? And who sent Katherine a used condom? As far as we know, the "villains" were two women. It seems a very odd and creepy way to harass someone. The phone calls were sexually suggestive enough. There are other ways to harass people: again, the seeming obsession with sex.
I'll probably come back and add to this after I've thought about it some more.
Yes, I forgot: Everyone wants to spill their guts to Katherine immediately after meeting her, because she is just that wonderful. And, apparently, everyone wanted to have sex with her when she was younger, too.
Oh, and 12-year-old girls (or however old Emily was) do not want to sleep with their 77-year-old piano teachers!
Having loved L'Engle's Wrinkle in Time (and related stories), I devoured A Small Rain and A Severed Wasp over a weekend. I have to say that I enjoyed the grownup Katherine more than I did the helpless youthful Katherine. Her character is graceful, composed, elegant, but still human. The New York atmosphere gave it additional romance, all of that tenseness and heat of the city.
I got halfway through this book and just couldn't make myself finish it. There seemed to be no point to the book. Many of the characters did a lot of whining, and I found very few of them to be likeable.
Second Read, May 24th, 2025 A book that left me feeling conflicted. L’Engle writes gorgeously and to read this book of hers is to be swept up into a story of numerous characters that feel, act and speak like real people. Yet there are also parts of this book that simply irked me and felt a bit artificial at times. I love L’Engle usually so it pains me that this book just didn’t work quite as well for me (and I seem to remember I liked it more when I first read it!). Possibly reading it right after A Small Rain was not a good idea, as now that first book seems unmistakably superior to this one. I do appreciate this but do not think I’d read it again if it were not a sequel to A Small Rain. That book felt fresh and artless whereas this one feels a bit…overdone. I will echo thoughts I remember having the first time, that it does feel a bit as if Katherine Forrester (a remarkable character!) is almost too above reproach in this one. This book almost feels hagiographic at times! Indeed, she becomes a confessor to practically every character in this book, which felt a bit odd, but I think was a deliberate choice by the author. This read, I also realized some of the flashback sequences that revealed Katherine’s life post Small Rain had parts in them that bothered me much more this time. Surely this is just L’Engle sharing realities of life and attempting to show the costs of suffering, yet still…there were choices made that made me sad. No more said of that now.
Anyways, it seems like I’m being entirely negative and I feel a bit sad for that. There were elements of this book that I loved. L’Engle as always is remarkably good at showing the small everyday parts of life that so many people gloss over. I love the friendship between Katherine and Emily and how Katherine does such a good job of caring for Emily in her pain. I did love the large cast of characters, even if there are some broadly drawn ones that do not perhaps survive closer look. And of course, I love the reflections and meditation on both music and religion, and what it means to worship God. I do not think I fully agree with all of L’Engle’s conclusions, but I did appreciate her attempting to explore her theology in a bit more depth. Also – there is a cynicism and world-weariness in this book that I perhaps did not catch the first time – maybe it is just what comes with being a more mature author, yet still I did not appreciate as much on this read. Is this a bad book? No, it’s not. But definitely one that is nearer the bottom of my personal ranking of L’Engle’s works.
(Edit - I just re-read the first review I wrote 3 years back - see below - and a bit surprised how much more I liked it back then! Aside from the fact that the earlier review was much better written and I am shamed to see how my writing has deteriorated, I think an interesting study could be made of the difference in my thoughts on the same book 3 years apart. I am very intrigued now to know what I will think some 3 (or more) years hence)
First Read, June 9th, 2022 What a fascinating, wonderful read. Not a book for the faint of heart, this book is one of L'Engle's adult novels and deals with serious topics. I picked it up a while back because I knew it was the companion piece to "The Small Rain" and knew that I needed to read it at some point. These two books are a wonderful story in and of themselves. With "The Small Rain" being the first book L'Engle ever wrote, back in early 1940s, and this one being one of her later ones written (published 1982 I believe?), these books are not quite autobiographical but they surely draw from L'Engle's own experiences and life. One of them written when she was young and fiery and just starting to discover her passion for writing, the second one written after a span of almost 40 years, of course it's a fascinating study to compare the two and trace the changes and deepening of both the main character (Katherine Forrester Vigneras) and also the author herself. I gave myself a year or so in between reading these two books, as I wanted to allow myself some time away from the story of young Katherine before I experienced the story of old Katherine. And what a story it was. Pierced through with flashbacks to pivotal and emotional moments in Katherine's life, this book tells the story of a woman who has retired and stepped away from her career as a world-famous pianist to settle in her house in New York City. Katherine does not quite succeed at getting away from the world though, as she finds herself very much needed in the small community in which she finds herself. The people that Katherine gets to know are all fascinating in their own right, and L'Engle does a masterful job in drawing these characters and making them come alive. The city of New York is a character itself, as it often is, and it was fascinating but also slightly horrifying to make the acquaintance of late 1970s New York City. This book isn't perfect. Katherine herself seems almost saint-like at times, one who has near apotheosized at the final stage of her life. She becomes the confessor for practically every character in this book and is the one that always seems to know just how to respond or act to meet the needs of those around her. She is almost brimming over with love and acceptance and compassion, at least outwardly. L'Engle does her level best to humanize and ground her, showing her internal doubts, frustrations, angers and fears, but even so - it feels like the character of Katherine Forrester has reached the point where she's not merely her own character anymore, but a paragon of virtue, the saint that we should all aspire to be like. I am possibly being overly harsh because I quite like Katherine and am grateful to experience her story here. Let not my negativity in this one point put you off reading this book, because this story is worth the experience! As always, L'Engle excels at telling the small scenes - the dinner parties, the conversations over lunch, the small moments and intimacies between characters. This book is a very talky book - vast majority is conversations. I love it though many might not. There are some theological quibbles I have with this book (please don't read L'Engle for her theological and biblical insights!) but I am able to look past those with the understanding that none of us have our understanding of God and this world perfectly in order - why should I be surprised that these characters' views of God and salvation may be slightly flawed? Apart from that, this book does deal with some fairly rough topics. Again, not for the faint of heart. There is loss and jealousy and abuse and infidelity and an atmosphere that drips of grime and fear. Yet there is also love and beauty - I simply loved all the discussions of music and any depictions of Katherine and/or friends playing musical instruments and/or singing together. The book ended beautifully, the only way it could have. I am not myself a musician, though I do dearly love music, but reading L'Engle's portrayal of a musician and what the music means to her...it is something to behold. While I don't know as if I could read this book often, it is a story superbly told about characters who are messy and real. I will definitely at some point in the future re-read both "The Small Rain" and this one, as they are books with a weight to them, books that talk about the things that matter.
Though you could read this as a standalone, I'm glad I read the first Katherine Forrester book, The Small Rain, before I read this. The Small Rain is L'Engle's first published novel and a bildungsroman, and A Severed Wasp, published almost 40 years later, revisits L'Engle's first protagonist at the end of her career as a world-famous pianist.
It was so interesting to see L'Engle's style mature, and fascinating to see her write about a young woman with a young woman's perspective, and then to revisit the same woman afterboth of them had matured. This second book felt much more like other L'Engle I'd read, yet Katherine Forrester was still recognizably herself.
The main plot of the story takes place in New York (and it's so interesting to read about the city when it was great, but also grimy and dangerous) and the building of an Episcopal cathedral and it's church community, but we also see much of Katherine's past through flashback. We learn about her career, her relationship with her husband and children, and her experiences of the Second World War and living in Europe trying to heal itself afterwards. Art, and commitment to art, is again given primacy in this book, but L'Engle balances it by examining how art, love and family ties intertwine. There was a bit of a mystery (I suppose), but really the book is about whether or not you can create art without love, and what happens when we feel we are denied love.
This was excellent. L'Engle is so thoughtful and compassionate, and even her villains are sympathetic. If you like literary books that really let you get intimate with a character, I'd recommend reading these two together.
So enjoyed this counterpoint to the Small Rain. Lovely read. Interesting to follow the characters late in life. Soothing. Didn’t want it to end, but thought the end was very fitting.
If this novel had concluded at the 90% mark, I would probably have rated it “4” or even “5.” But it did not. It went on to conclude with a thinly veiled sermon. The last 10%, in fact, changed my mind about reading any more of her books.
Ever since I was in divinity school I have heard about L'Engle's books. I've managed to track down a few at the library, not necessarily the really theological ones. Such was the case with the present book. I picked it up because it seemed to deal with a couple of themes/images/locales that appealed to me: classical music, a cathedral and church-y people, etc. I'm not sure if it's because the book is older than much of what I read (copyright early 1980's) or if I just am not all that drawn into L'Engle's material: I found this outing only ho-hum.
The premise was interesting enough: a retired piano recitalist moves to NYC, re-meets an old friend, and gets invited to perform a benefit recital, and thereby gets drawn into the orbit of a vast cathedral and the attendant members of the cathedral staff and their families. (We even have a sub-plot related to the young cathedral organist!)
There is plenty to draw from in terms of possibly appealing plot elements: an old romantic flame who happens to be an ecclesiastical Lothario; some of the methods of preparing for a piano concert; a little bit of cathedral architecture and staff intrigue; South American occult religion; the Holocaust; and a little bit of pop psychology.
I think it's that last that aspect left me liking the book less than I might have. I finally decided the novel was somewhat like a Susan Howatch novel in terms of being a quasi-theological-psychological novel, but not nearly as compelling nor as in depth. Too, the romantic possibilities, hetero- and homosexual, were treated only superficially. Like her stuff or not, at least with Howatch one is brought into the epicenter of theological intrigue and romantic entanglements. With this book by L'Engle it is as though the author is just a little too prim is not quite prepared to go as far as the plot might allow.
So, meh. The whole concert thing could have had more life, along with piano and organ music in the cathedral. The relationship between the protagonist and the retired bishop who is her friend, and his referred-to but not really explored risque younger years could have borne a whole lot more probing. Then there is the whole weird thing between the protagonist and her impotent husband and his desire for her to find someone with whom to have "his" child: there was room for so much more.
As it is, there's plenty to arouse one's curiosity, and plenty left only partially explored.
I don't know why this says it's an Austin Family book; it isn't. It's a sequel to A Small Rain. Although this book, written much later in L'Engle's life, is more mature in style, I liked it less than A Small Rain, which was her first published book. The story moves from Europe to New York and centers around a church there, and I think that I'm just not that interested in the new setting. I read it because I really wanted to see Katherine, the main character, grown up. I still would recommend it if you like L'Engle. It didn't interest me as much personally, but the writing was quite good. Oh, and I should say that I was fascinated and also horrified to read the George Orwell quote from which the title comes: "I thought of a rather cruel trick I once played on a wasp. He was sucking jam on my plate, and I cut him in half. He paid no attention, merely went on with his meal, while a tiny stream of jam trickled out of his severed esophagus. Only when he tried to fly away did he grasp the dreadful thing that had happened to him. It is the same with modern man. The thing that has been cut away is his soul, and there was a period -- twenty years, perhaps -- when he did not notice it." —"Notes On The Way", George Orwell: The Collected Essays, Journalism & Letters. Volume Two
One of my favorite L'Engle books, which is surprising because the first 1/3 was slow and I could barely get through it without falling asleep. The more I got into Katherine's psyche and her past, though, the more attached I became. I loved how richly developed even the smallest of characters were, and the way things came together to form a community.
A lot of the plot points (and the setting) reminded me of one of the Austin family books (and Emily is mentioned) but I liked the way this book handled those elements so much better. It's mature, it's complex, and it's beautifully written. Even if the last few sections are very melodramatic.
Satisfying! A novel of unceremonious surprises, saying what it needs to say without saying every little thing. I should have figured it would be about so much more than Madame Vigneras's "retirement." I'd been waiting to read it ever since I read The Small Rain, and it was quite worth the wait. It hit me as a lover of literature, an artist, and a writer.
I love L'Engle so much, and this was written beautifully, but it took me forever because I just couldn't get beneath the surface of the prose. I didn't realize it was a sequel--maybe that has something to do with it.