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Heligoland
The Nautilus, a strange building shaped like the chambered shell of the same name, was built in South London in the early 1930s. Designed on Modernist and Utopian principles, it was a haven for a floating community of cosmopolitan refugees, intellectuals and artists. Now, at the end of the century, only two of the original inhabitants still occupy their chambers -- Celeste Zylberstein, joint architect with her late husband of the Nautilus, and Francis Campion, an elderly poet. Gus Crabb, a dealer in bric-à-brac, is the only other resident until, to the Nautilus, like a hermit crab seeking a home, comes Rowena Snow. Of Indian/Scottish parentage, orphaned, without family or friends, Rowena is in search of her own Utopia -- or the Heligoland of her childhood imagination.
Heligoland is Shena Mackay at her very best. Rowena, damaged but courageous, is a brilliant creation, and her path to a sort of contentment is both funny and moving. The other characters are at once utterly strange and entirely believable, and Shena Mackay's eye for the oddities of ordinary life is as sharp as ever. Her writing -- sentence by sentence -- is sublime, surprising, inimitable.
Heligoland is Shena Mackay at her very best. Rowena, damaged but courageous, is a brilliant creation, and her path to a sort of contentment is both funny and moving. The other characters are at once utterly strange and entirely believable, and Shena Mackay's eye for the oddities of ordinary life is as sharp as ever. Her writing -- sentence by sentence -- is sublime, surprising, inimitable.
- GenresFictionLiterary Fiction
199 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2003
1 person is currently reading
278 people want to read
About the author
Shena Mackay
52 books32 followersShena Mackay was born in Edinburgh in 1944 and currently lives in London. She is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and also Honorary Visiting Professor to the MA in Writing at Middlesex University.
Her novels include the black comedy Redhill Rococo (1986), winner of the Fawcett Society Book Prize; Dunedin (1992), which won a Scottish Arts Council Book Award; and the acclaimed The Orchard on Fire (1995) which was shortlisted for the Booker Prize for Fiction. Her novel Heligoland (2003) was shortlisted for both the Orange Prize for Fiction and the Whitbread Novel Award.
Her novels include the black comedy Redhill Rococo (1986), winner of the Fawcett Society Book Prize; Dunedin (1992), which won a Scottish Arts Council Book Award; and the acclaimed The Orchard on Fire (1995) which was shortlisted for the Booker Prize for Fiction. Her novel Heligoland (2003) was shortlisted for both the Orange Prize for Fiction and the Whitbread Novel Award.
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Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews
February 16, 2018
(2.5) This short novel was one of my bibliotherapy prescriptions, specifically intended as a cure for moving house. Heligoland is a Scottish island best known from the shipping forecast, but here it’s an almost mythical home. Rowena Snow was orphaned by her Indian/Scottish parents, and a second time by her aunt. Since then she’s drifted between caring and cleaning jobs, and after being falsely accused of stealing from an elderly patient she’s retreated into herself. The Nautilus represents a fresh chance at life. This shell-shaped artists’ commune in South London houses just three survivors: Celeste Zylberstein, who designed the place; poet Francis Campion; and antiques dealer Gus Crabb, who’s trying to get used to life without his estranged family. Rowena will be the housekeeper and cook, but she struggles with self-esteem: does she deserve to live in this haven for upper-class creative types? She’s “struck by fear that the others regard her as a forsaken soul who has weaseled her way into their circle, one step up from a bag lady”.
The omniscient perspective moves between the Nautilus residents but also to lots of other minor hangers-on, whose stories are hard to keep track of, let alone see a purpose to. Mackay’s writing reminded me somewhat of Tessa Hadley’s and is very lovely in places – especially when describing a buffet or a moment of light-filled epiphany in a garden – but feels wasted on a thin and aimless story. There’s not much to be said beyond what’s in the blurb: Mackay is attempting to give a picture of a drifter who finds an unconventional home; in the barest sense she does succeed, but I never felt a connection with any of the characters. In this ensemble cast there is no one to love and thus no one to root for. I have two other books by Mackay on the shelf but I’m not entirely sure I want to attempt another.
Some favorite lines:
(of Francis) “this survivor in a once polyglot shelltopia was aware of a creeping xenophobia that was turning him into a parochial old tortoise.”
“The name Celeste Zylberstein strikes chromatic notes of glockenspiel and zither from her nerves.”
“you will seldom regret washing your hair but you will almost always regret not having washed it.”
The omniscient perspective moves between the Nautilus residents but also to lots of other minor hangers-on, whose stories are hard to keep track of, let alone see a purpose to. Mackay’s writing reminded me somewhat of Tessa Hadley’s and is very lovely in places – especially when describing a buffet or a moment of light-filled epiphany in a garden – but feels wasted on a thin and aimless story. There’s not much to be said beyond what’s in the blurb: Mackay is attempting to give a picture of a drifter who finds an unconventional home; in the barest sense she does succeed, but I never felt a connection with any of the characters. In this ensemble cast there is no one to love and thus no one to root for. I have two other books by Mackay on the shelf but I’m not entirely sure I want to attempt another.
Some favorite lines:
(of Francis) “this survivor in a once polyglot shelltopia was aware of a creeping xenophobia that was turning him into a parochial old tortoise.”
“The name Celeste Zylberstein strikes chromatic notes of glockenspiel and zither from her nerves.”
“you will seldom regret washing your hair but you will almost always regret not having washed it.”
July 30, 2013
Middle aged and desperately lonely orphan Rowena finds fellowship and purpose at last, in a story that celebrates ordinary care and kindness
Mackay's cast of curious characters are the delight of this book; great-hearted Celeste, neurotic Francis and generous, capable Rowena, crippled by insecurities. Only occasionally does the quirkiness shade into caricature, and some stories, like that of Rhiannon and of Nathan, seemed shallow to me.
"It is necessary only for the good man to do nothing for evil to triumph."
Mackay's cast of curious characters are the delight of this book; great-hearted Celeste, neurotic Francis and generous, capable Rowena, crippled by insecurities. Only occasionally does the quirkiness shade into caricature, and some stories, like that of Rhiannon and of Nathan, seemed shallow to me.
"It is necessary only for the good man to do nothing for evil to triumph."
September 29, 2019
Ez eddig a legszofisztikáltabb YA könyv amit csak olvastam, talán nem is illik egészen a kategóriába. High-end YA, talán van ilyen? Szépirodalmi igényesség, komponált regényszerkezet, szinte lírai tömörség, szótáraznivaló szókincs, ízlésesen elszórt utalások. Eléggé lenyűgöző, pláne hogy fogalmam sincs mit várjak 200 oldalon, leszámítva a borítón ünnepelt díj-jelölést.
A főhős egy Rowena Snow nevű, indiai származású, árvaságból felnőtt-felküzdött nő, aki bizonytalan, küszködik a múltjával és a jelennel, elég régóta keresi a helyét hogy ne tekintse magát igazán fiatalnak, eléggé outsider hogy sehol se találjon magának otthont. Belecsöppen egy kicsit elvarázsolt lakóközösség mindennapjaiba, és csavar az életén egy jókorát a Nautilus kagylóhéj-spirálja.
Nem is annyira a sztori, a pszichológiai fejlődéstörténet az, ami igazán megragadó a könyvben (bár az is működik), hanem az írás kidolgozottsága: időnként humoros, sokszor ironikus, sziporkázóan hozza a modern és posztmodern próza repertoárját, és még csak nem is egy hosszú vagy meredek kihívás végigolvasni, hát, le a kalappal.
Utógondolat: micsoda kellemes fordítói is kihívás volna ez.
A főhős egy Rowena Snow nevű, indiai származású, árvaságból felnőtt-felküzdött nő, aki bizonytalan, küszködik a múltjával és a jelennel, elég régóta keresi a helyét hogy ne tekintse magát igazán fiatalnak, eléggé outsider hogy sehol se találjon magának otthont. Belecsöppen egy kicsit elvarázsolt lakóközösség mindennapjaiba, és csavar az életén egy jókorát a Nautilus kagylóhéj-spirálja.
Nem is annyira a sztori, a pszichológiai fejlődéstörténet az, ami igazán megragadó a könyvben (bár az is működik), hanem az írás kidolgozottsága: időnként humoros, sokszor ironikus, sziporkázóan hozza a modern és posztmodern próza repertoárját, és még csak nem is egy hosszú vagy meredek kihívás végigolvasni, hát, le a kalappal.
Utógondolat: micsoda kellemes fordítói is kihívás volna ez.
July 20, 2016
I must confess: the book baffled me. And it was nominated for (shortlisted) for both the Whitbred and Orange Prizes. Best I can say is: I didn't get it.
July 7, 2021
This book was recommended for those suffering from a dread of moving house, to inspire them to look forward to discovering a new home that suits them well and brings them joy. I don't wish to digress too lengthily, but suffice it to say that since I decided to investigate this prescription, I have discovered that moving house is exactly as annoying and fulfilling as could have been anticipated. A timelier exposure probably wouldn't have helped, because the book is very little about moving house at all. It is primarily about moving between classes.
The writing doesn't make this exactly clear, but the prose flows without interruption between points of view and each narrator's primary concerns. Many factors contribute to this lack of clarity: a stream-of-consciousness style unafraid to cut to memories filled with characters not actually in the scene; switching point of view between same-sex characters in the same real-time scene using only pronouns; an oddly uniform voice; the mixing of interjections with declarative narration in all sections; lingering on scenes that wind up not playing a major role; etc. I'm empathetic to accusations of "pretension" levied against the writing style, but I would argue that pretension is a topic of discussion in both text and subtext.
The primary (and arguably only well-developed/personally interesting) plot is Rowena's moving in to the Nautilus, a near-defunct commune of artists in London. Rowena is mixed-race and not an artist, but she is determined to fight her way into this community from the entry point of being the building's housekeeper. Thus most of the book is illustrative of a principle many parents try to teach their middle-school-aged children: that most everyone is deeply anxious about how they appear to others, and so spare very little time for how you appear to them. Rowena's inner monologue is obsessed with her clothes, comportment, and upper-class English/bohemian shibboleths, and I think the irony is meant to be that none of the situations she stumbles into or engineers actually requires this much scrutiny. Another irony is that, from personal knowledge and the stated behavior of other characters, it's eminently possible to "stand out and fit in" by, for example, wearing the wrong clothes with an appropriately bohemian justification.
Far be it for me to criticize Rowena's attempts to radically change her social standing, especially given the difference in our information levels, but it's much less Educating Rita than Meghan Daum's classic essay about attempting to purchase the trappings of a more expensive class. I found it was quite notable that Rowena never just dashes out some amateur poetry to add credence to her claim of being another poet -- as she herself suggests near the end of the book. She also worries constantly about her performance as a housekeeper even as her anxiety makes her ever less desirable a tenant in a building with no great demand for a housekeeper. Hers is a tiring mind to live inside, yet hers is the only plot that goes anywhere. There are some more interesting characters (a father unhappily separated from his wife and children due to his infidelity; an elderly patron/activist worrying about her declining relevance; a different elderly activist who wants to move into the Nautilus but changes her mind; an elderly poet facing death with the understanding that he will have accomplished very little and be remembered even less) but they end the novel much as they began it. I was surprised to see a plot thread being picked up for a minor character on the fourth-to-last page: it was at least nice to see an attempt to flesh out the supporting cast, but jading to note that it is of course not wrapped up by the end of the last page.
The writing doesn't make this exactly clear, but the prose flows without interruption between points of view and each narrator's primary concerns. Many factors contribute to this lack of clarity: a stream-of-consciousness style unafraid to cut to memories filled with characters not actually in the scene; switching point of view between same-sex characters in the same real-time scene using only pronouns; an oddly uniform voice; the mixing of interjections with declarative narration in all sections; lingering on scenes that wind up not playing a major role; etc. I'm empathetic to accusations of "pretension" levied against the writing style, but I would argue that pretension is a topic of discussion in both text and subtext.
The primary (and arguably only well-developed/personally interesting) plot is Rowena's moving in to the Nautilus, a near-defunct commune of artists in London. Rowena is mixed-race and not an artist, but she is determined to fight her way into this community from the entry point of being the building's housekeeper. Thus most of the book is illustrative of a principle many parents try to teach their middle-school-aged children: that most everyone is deeply anxious about how they appear to others, and so spare very little time for how you appear to them. Rowena's inner monologue is obsessed with her clothes, comportment, and upper-class English/bohemian shibboleths, and I think the irony is meant to be that none of the situations she stumbles into or engineers actually requires this much scrutiny. Another irony is that, from personal knowledge and the stated behavior of other characters, it's eminently possible to "stand out and fit in" by, for example, wearing the wrong clothes with an appropriately bohemian justification.
Far be it for me to criticize Rowena's attempts to radically change her social standing, especially given the difference in our information levels, but it's much less Educating Rita than Meghan Daum's classic essay about attempting to purchase the trappings of a more expensive class. I found it was quite notable that Rowena never just dashes out some amateur poetry to add credence to her claim of being another poet -- as she herself suggests near the end of the book. She also worries constantly about her performance as a housekeeper even as her anxiety makes her ever less desirable a tenant in a building with no great demand for a housekeeper. Hers is a tiring mind to live inside, yet hers is the only plot that goes anywhere. There are some more interesting characters (a father unhappily separated from his wife and children due to his infidelity; an elderly patron/activist worrying about her declining relevance; a different elderly activist who wants to move into the Nautilus but changes her mind; an elderly poet facing death with the understanding that he will have accomplished very little and be remembered even less) but they end the novel much as they began it. I was surprised to see a plot thread being picked up for a minor character on the fourth-to-last page: it was at least nice to see an attempt to flesh out the supporting cast, but jading to note that it is of course not wrapped up by the end of the last page.
August 5, 2017
The Nautilus Building once provided a refuge and work-space for artists, but now all but two of them have died, moved into conventional sheltered accommodation or, in the case of one disruptive couple, been expelled. The two newest residents also find a refuge in Nautilus, but are only very loosely connected to the world of art. There is an organisation which helps distressed artists, but they are nearly all very old as well. The author clearly doesn't think much of British art in the twenty-first century or of twenty-first century British society, even walking to and from the bus-stop is intimidating.
The story is slight, although many people will find it heart-warming that Rowena finally feels she belongs and that Gus reconnects with his family. The novel mainly consists of scenes from the lives of the main characters in the present day and their past, and relies heavily on the authors use of imagery, unusual similes, offbeat characters and the name of a fishing forecast area used up to 1955. It is like a pretty picture or poem from from days gone by, with a certain nostalgic charm, but nothing to get excited about.
The story is slight, although many people will find it heart-warming that Rowena finally feels she belongs and that Gus reconnects with his family. The novel mainly consists of scenes from the lives of the main characters in the present day and their past, and relies heavily on the authors use of imagery, unusual similes, offbeat characters and the name of a fishing forecast area used up to 1955. It is like a pretty picture or poem from from days gone by, with a certain nostalgic charm, but nothing to get excited about.
December 12, 2017
The writing in this book was beautiful, but it left me with a terrible feeling of insecurity. When serial orphan Rowena finally finds (in middle age) a place where she can belong, and people who care about her, it turns out to be a fragile, decaying building, under threat from urban hooliganism, inhabited by precariously elderly residents - octogenarians, in fact - who surely haven't got long? So I could hardly heave a sigh of relief for her, or feel that she'd 'come home.' All that she has gained seems so fragile, destined to be swept away in the near future. Her friends the Dunlops are a hollow sham, who have just been using her, and although she has been exonerated in the job she was unjustly sacked from, it seems unlikely she will ever see the elderly gent and former charge that she briefly reconnects with again. There is the promise of future happiness in a potential boyfriend - but I don't feel Rowena has been able to find happiness and comfort within herself, where it is most vital. I don't feel that she has learned anything, or changed or developed through the course of the book. My prognosis for her is, frankly, not good.
September 11, 2014
An astutely observed study of ageing, memory and belonging set in a faded artistic community in South London. Sharp-edged, poignant, sometimes surprising, Heligoland is a warm-hearted novel about finding your place and defeating loneliness.
July 22, 2023
I rather loved this book, particularly the first third or so. I continued to enjoy and admire the writing throughout but felt that the "wrap-up" was a bit predictable, reminding me how difficult it is to bring a novel to a wholly satisfying closure. It could have easily been a five-star for me, but I will settle for a high four. The writing is lovely, and I thought that Mackay handled her characters beautifully. I have a soft spot for the lonely and aging, making this book a perfect fit for me.
February 6, 2020
And this one wins a prize! Longest novel less than 200 pages! Starts off with stunning language and wit and then . . . nothing happens . . . I got lost . . . I didn't know what any of the characters were talking about . . . it seemed surrealistically like a bad party I'd been forced to attend. Liked Mackay's Orchard on Fire which I read 20+ years ago, but this was a dud for me.
June 30, 2018
I found reading this a chore and only continued because it was a reading group choice. None of it made sense to me. I realised at the reading group that I might have liked it more if I had read it more slowly and savoured it instead of galloping through.
June 4, 2024
Not my cup of tea. Sentences came across as a little mannered and overlaboured and while the Isokon in North London had inhabitants busy spying for the Soviets or writing detective novels, the inhabitants of the Nautilus didn't have quite the same historical appeal.
July 19, 2017
Too short, I wanted to stay longer in the world of the nautilus. I would have liked if this had been a two person narrative with Celeste telling the story of the house in its heyday.
August 24, 2022
This book has a convincing central character, surrounded by stereotypes, and however much fun the stereotypes were, and the referencing of C20th culture, it simply did not work.
Read
February 11, 2023It’s intense but doesn’t hang together so difficult to unravel and connect with the story. I’m still not entirely sure what the point was.
Want to read
January 3, 2024I learned of this post here: https://twitter.com/fouroclockcup/sta...
December 10, 2023
An unhappy woman with a huge chip on her shoulder and whose feelings get bruised more easily than a peach comes to live in a beautiful futuristic house with the remnants of an utopian artistic community , and up until the last page keeps misjudging everyone and misinterpreting everything. Throughout it all she manages to be caring and win the residents over with her small acts of kindness (which seem more acted than kind) and the book ends on a hopeful note.
I understand what the author was trying to do - show us how the trauma of childhood neglect and abandonment compounds (and may be resolved through meaningful relationships, however late in life), but she did not manage to create a character that this particular reader would find anything but annoying.
In summary, good idea, quite amazing writing, awful characters. 3 stars.
I understand what the author was trying to do - show us how the trauma of childhood neglect and abandonment compounds (and may be resolved through meaningful relationships, however late in life), but she did not manage to create a character that this particular reader would find anything but annoying.
In summary, good idea, quite amazing writing, awful characters. 3 stars.
January 2, 2012
An outsider becomes part of a group and only realises she is part of it when the stability of the physically crumbling community is threatened. It is prettily written, with some interesting reflections on various sorts of middle-aged-and-above angst (loneliness, self-deprecation, low self-esteem and reduced confidence). I enjoyed the process of reading it more than having read it.
July 13, 2013
I don't normally give up on books but I just couldn't trudge through this. The language was frustrating rather than being interesting. She appears to be one of those authors who uses a word just to prove her intelligence rather than to add colour to the story. If the story itself had been more gripping I may have persevered - and maybe it got better but I just couldn't get that far ....
September 17, 2014
I read this because it was a recommendation for "Moving" in "751 Books to Cure What Ails You." I understand that they prescribed this book because of the way it deals with finding a sense of belonging, but it didn't connect with the feelings I'm having about my upcoming move (which have more to do with anxiety over chaos and logistics).
April 3, 2010
A quiet book that grew on me as I read, but since it was so short (about 200 pages) it was over before I really had time to appreciate reading it.
Want to read
July 29, 201103 longlisted for booker prize; 03 short list-orange prize
August 29, 2012
Excellent
maybe
March 6, 2014to look into further
March 26, 2017
Author uses vocabulary for the sake of showing show clever she is. Well, that's what it seems like.
To clever for me by half.
To clever for me by half.
Read
August 4, 2016The best character in the book is quite possibly Nautilus the house in which the main characters live! And I mean that in a good way. I loved the way Rowena found a shell that she could live in.
Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews