One of the most engrossing of Joyce Carol Oates's earlier novels explores a relationship between two women. Originally published in 1985, Solstice is the gripping story of Monica Jensen and Sheila Trask, two young women who are complete opposites yet irresistibly attracted to each other. Blonde, shy, recently divorced Monica is a school teacher; dark, nocturnal, sophisticated Sheila is a painter of stature, driven by the needs of her art. Over the months, their friendship deepens, first to love and then to a near-fatal obsession.
Joyce Carol Oates is an American writer. Oates published her first book in 1963, and has since published 58 novels, a number of plays and novellas, and many volumes of short stories, poetry, and nonfiction. Her novels Black Water (1992), What I Lived For (1994), and Blonde (2000), and her short story collections The Wheel of Love (1970) and Lovely, Dark, Deep: Stories (2014) were each finalists for the Pulitzer Prize. She has won many awards for her writing, including the National Book Award, for her novel Them (1969), two O. Henry Awards, the National Humanities Medal, and the Jerusalem Prize (2019). Oates taught at Princeton University from 1978 to 2014, and is the Roger S. Berlind '52 Professor Emerita in the Humanities with the Program in Creative Writing. From 2016 to 2020, she was a visiting professor at the University of California, Berkeley, where she taught short fiction in the spring semesters. She now teaches at Rutgers University, New Brunswick. Oates was elected to the American Philosophical Society in 2016. Pseudonyms: Rosamond Smith and Lauren Kelly.
I've tried on several occasions to read various JCO novels, and after a few pages, have stopped because of an intense cold. So, with great determination I have read Solstice to the last page. I was encouraged by Judy's enticing review and her knowledge of 29 JCO novels.
I now understand my previous antipathy; Carol Oates writes with a sort of precision refinement you might imagine in a watch-maker. I know she would make an excellent lawyer because every word is used as a precision instrument, conveying the most precise, accurate and required information at the most exactly perfect point in the narrative. In other words, there is no fluff, vagueness, filler, padding, ever. And I think that this is a little unnerving. I'm trying to remember that someone wrote: 'perfection is a kind of horror' - it sounds very Henry James.
Early on in the story her artist, Sheila Trask strongly conveys a sense of disdain for the whole world; she is tired, has tried everything there is to try in life. She talks frequently of suicide in her family and at one particular point how - 'there is no great drama, it's just that one has had enough of the mill of life' - (my paraphrase; I'm not prepared to search the text looking for the exact words).
She meets Monica Jenson, a recent divorcee, who has taken a job in the prestigious boy's Academy of Glenkill, to teach English. Monica is presented as the direct opposite of Sheila. She is conventional; disconnected from herself through no particular trauma, but simply the average entitled values of an American "Golden Girl" - JCO's description, not mine. I did enjoy her references to the Pennsylvania and New Jersey towns and countryside. I spent a year and four months in this area, and although I think the critical places, are inventions, she does mention several places I visited - New Hope, Philadelphia, Bucks County etc. Carol Oates, did, or does still reside in Princeton, which I visited several times.
The story follows an intense romantic involvement between the two women, whereby Monica suffers greatly as she is deeply inhibited and resists any possibility that she is sexually attracted to Sheila. I thought JCO's recreation of that intense, exposure that lovers feel about each other in the relationship's early days was utterly convincing. There is rivalry, there is that intense anxiety to please and present the best of yourself to the other, even to turn yourself inside out in meeting or matching their expectations of you. I think it is true that in love, you out grow the personality you have rested with. Shelia pulls Monica out of her blind, stunted growth; Monica has no idea why her marriage has failed, even refuses to grieve the bitter reproach she feels towards her ex; basically has no idea of the conventions and controls she has grown up with - that isn't to say, however, that Shelia isn't outrageous - endlessly, and uses other conventions - the supreme artist suffering for her work etc. But of the two I preferred Sheila.
They represent extremes no doubt of American Types - what it is possible, or likely to be in this particular place and time, but instead of focussing on powerful men; JCO has played out the roles with women, which for me makes a delightful and subversive attack on the feminists who see themselves as evolved and higher. JCO, I think insists on human types; and in this story gives both women plenty of rope - with which to hang themselves - as the saying goes.
Yes - the precision prose is there to save time, to get to the point, to demonstrate the "reality" of these characters. Yes Carol Oates is supremely intelligent and artistic and capable, but there is not an iota of warmth or charm or softness in her style of story. Just that last line from Sheila, gives a glimpse of normality (kindness, real love perhaps) in her characters.
Did I enjoy this - not really, but on an intellectual level, yes - I wholly admire what JCO set out to do. And yes, I liked her upending of the revered American Types - that brought a rather gloating satisfaction.
I first read this book in 1986 and have read it twice more since then. Joyce Carol Oates is the first contemporary American author I remember impressing me enough to linger with me long after I'd read her work. "Solstice," like other works by Joyce Carol Oates, does not paint a pretty picture. Great fiction is often about complex, sad, scary, bitter relationships. Happy relationships are better left to the Harlequins of this world. Sometimes when you're in a weird, complex mood you want weird, complex reading...catharsis and all that...
"Solstice" lingers like someone's presence after she's left the room. If you look at some reviews written about this book, there is mention of everything from stormy psyches to lesbian subtext. Whatever the motivation behind Monica and Sheila's relationship, fascination and even some kind of subtle hatred works into it. Monica is transfixed by Sheila and Sheila seems to need Monica as some kind of dumping ground. They'd probably just as soon want to walk away from each other with a clean break, but they can't. As Shelia says, "we'll be for friends for a long, long time...unless one of us dies." Probably a normal thing to say, but still sort of creepy.
They behave more like people in love than friends; what they have is not exactly chemistry, but it has drawing power. I always thought this novel was more about hatred than love, but sometimes hatred is love in confusion.
This was Joyce Carol Oates’s 15th novel. I am gradually making my way through novels of hers I have missed since I started reading her. Altogether I have read 29 of her books and I have yet to be disappointed. Most often this amazing author is mocked for her productivity, as if she could not possibly write so many books and have them all be worthy. I am a dedicated fan because in her long career she has consistently plumbed the depths of American life both historically and psychologically. She lives to write!
Solstice is short compared to many of her novels but it still managed to pierce my heart and soul. Monica Jensen is recently divorced and now has a job teaching at a private high school for boys. She meets Sheila Trask, an eccentric artist who lives in the small Pennsylvania town. They become fast and tortured friends.
Monica lacks personality and Sheila has too much. Monica is about as normal as a woman could be in the 1980s and Sheila is about as weird as a woman could be in the 1980s. In the cloistered worlds of private schools and art, they are not examples of that decade as it is usually portrayed in movies and fiction. They each have personal anguish though. Monica’s failed marriage left her feeling insecure. Sheila’s deceased husband was a world- famous sculptor in whose shadow she lived. Now her dominating personality and restless needs have made her an infamous character in the town.
The psychology of the story is its strongest attribute: shades of P K Dick, Shirley Jackson and even Stephen King. The horror of what these two women get up to made me queasy at times but Joyce Carol Oates’s books are never for the faint of heart. Some readers and critics might say the novel is over the top. Others might say it is under the bottom. I say it is brilliant.
2.5 stars. The book revolves around two women, Monica Jensen and Sheila Trask has their friendship goes from love to obsession. Picked this up because it sounded compelling with the love and obsession between two women but I never really got invested in it or found it as exciting as I thought it would be. Was rather boring.
At its core this is a dizzying tale of the fraught and destructive relationship between two solipsistic women. A labyrinthine narrative follows characters that are mired in their own ambivalence. Until her divorce Monica Jensen was quite comfortable in her role of a confident 'blonde', the school's 'golden girl'. Unable to reconcile herself with the status of divorcee she throws herself into her new job as a teacher. By chance she happens to meet her neighbour, a famous artist and recently widowed Sheila Trask. Monica is drawn by Sheila's mercurial personality, by her reputation, by her art. Their relationship is hard to define and from the very beginning we see that is something other than a friendship (or a romance for that matter). Monica is attracted and repulsed by her own obsession with Sheila. They push each other's boundaries and seem to be perpetually in conflict. They try to have the 'upper hand' without knowing themselves why it is they want to control—and posses—each other. In spite of their different temperaments and dispositions they are both single without any particular close friends or family members. Unmoored, they try to assert their identity through their intense bone which often results in a struggle for power. Part of me wished that they could have explored their relationship more (their sentiments and declarations struck me as those of two lovers). Still, it was fascinating to read about the way in which their toxic relationship threatens their individuality and wellbeing. There was something almost vampiristic about the nature of their attachment to each other.
The dense and laborious prose examines in excruciatingly detail Monica's psyche. Sheila remains more of a mystery but I still found her just as complex and layered. Many of Monica's inner struggles would seem trifles by today's standards (she is incredible conventional in certain aspects) and Sheila might not seem as subversive as we are lead to believe but within the narrative their behaviours make sense (although towards the end they both seem to go off the rails but...). Solstice is far from an easy read. The 'story' is not much of a 'story' but rather a convoluted depiction of the often perplexing bond between two women. I enjoyed the way in which Monica and Sheila change one another and the fact that the book is focused entirely on the two of them (family and love interests are merely blips in the course of the narrative). I also appreciated the role that art (and especially modern art) plays in the book. There is an ongoing commentary on the way characters perceive Sheila's art and on the language art critics use. Sheila's creative process was also intriguing and prompted some of the most emotionally intense scenes. I would have given this novel a higher rating but for the last part. All of a sudden there are a series of dramatic events happening in quick succession and the ending left me wanting more.
The plot of ‘Solstice’ meanders along somewhat loosely and aimlessly, following the friendship of the beautiful, if mediocre, Monica Jensen and the Falstaffian artist, Sheila Trask, whose eccentricities and somewhat haphazard way of life serve to life Monica out of the sense of mediocrity which has enveloped her life; from her passionless, banal marriage to her asinine career as a teacher Sheila is the beacon Monica uses to navigate her way from the sea of conventionality which surrounds her, jolting her from the steady undulations which has been keeping her afloat. Yet Monica soon feels herself drowning beneath the waves the passionate friendship-or should it be romance-which develops between herself and Sheila, as the two become enveloped in an unusual relationship, whose basis is never really convincing.
A pale, almost pellucid atmosphere pervades the novel-resembling one of the paintings Sheila bequeaths Monica; the atmosphere evoked by Glenkill, where the novel is set, is one of serenity and steadiness, which is punctuated by the acerbic behaviour of it’s most (and only) famous resident in Sheila. In many ways Glenkill symbolises both Monica and the novel; nice-enough, with a few pretty passages but ultimately mediocre and somewhat forgettable.
edit hours after finishing: ok WOW theres a lot to unpack here! this book was a ride- one that was genuinely exciting and enjoyable but definitely one that ends and you get off and you’re throwing up. all that to say that joyce carol oates’ writing was beautiful and hypnotic. the imagery made me feel as if i were on a winding road in rural pennsylvania- i guess this book is a winding rural road in pennsylvania and i am car sick!
rating this was also very tough because the ending was so unsatisfying for me. but 3.75
i have not been gripped by a book in so long; until this one. such a unique and accurate way of writing dialogue, such a testimony to the obsessive and carnal ways we attach to one another, a love story in a friendship story in a psychological horror, almost ‘in the dream house’-esque if i can say that. joyce carol oates you are so baller
Solstice is a look into co-dependence, obsession and ultimately insanity. Shelia and Monica are two women who start as friends, and fall more and more into each others' orbit- spending time together perhaps more than is healthy. Eventually, it’s clear that these two women are not normal, and that something has to give.
Oates does a good job of portraying this downward spiral of mutual obsession. I felt a great deal of tension for the first bit of the book, because Oates does a wonderful job of writing slightly askew, as though a normal relationship were filmed by Hitchcock. But gradually, this sense of tension was replaced with feeling of treading water and a desire to just get to the end to see what happened. Though the main thrust of the book is interesting, it was perhaps drug out a bit too much. Near the end of the book, Oates feels the pressure to wrap things up- and so things go by in a blur. If the end had been a bit longer (and it is actually pretty good for all its brevity) and the middle less drawn out, I think this might’ve been a better book. This book has the feel of a novella stretched out to a novel.
I can’t quite decide if some parts of this book are out of place, or if the focus is so intensely on the relationship between Shelia and Monica that these parts simply seem irrelevant. There’s a lot of name checking that goes on for figures in modern art and literature- but it doesn’t quite seem natural. Oates’s prose is certainly capable enough and it mimics the characters states of mind very well, but it doesn’t quite pop- nothing particularly sticks in my mind. So, ultimately, sort of a middle of the road book.
Unrelated story: I picked my edition of this book up at a garage sale. The cover for this paperback has a picture of two 1980's looking women staring vacantly on the cover, and the word Solstice in silver embossed cursive on the cover. I can just picture some housewife picking it up thinking it was a trashy romance novel. Goes to show, never judge a book by its cover.
This is the fourth JCO book I've read, and it's the fourth JCO book I've read which has a rape in it.
There are things I like about her work and things I don't like. She does a powerful job of translating psychic pain into literal pain. When her characters feel sorrow, they fall into dramatic, disgusting illnesses. When her characters feel degraded or afraid, they are subjected to rapes and assaults and nightmares. When you finish a Joyce Carol Oates book, you have been given ample opportunity to viscerally experience whatever misery she is trying to address.
The unfortunate outcome of this, in my experience at least, is that her books come across as exaggerated, horrific, self-important, and humorless.
Which means that while I think she's doing something worthwhile with her writing, it never feels believable to me. She goes too far out of her way to torment and destroy her characters, and every book seems to describe the same miserable spiral.
So while this book featured some interesting interpersonal dynamics, some rich descriptions, and a fairly interesting main character, I had to go with two stars because it felt too dramatic, too miserable, and too sadistic to be a worthwhile read.
At some point during the last 50 pages, the suffering became so pronounced it almost seemed like a joke, but still it kept going and going until the story had worn itself out.
Powerfully written. Joyce Carol Oates has a fantastic writing style--I can't quite place it, but it is so fluid and organic. And she captures the painful, awkward eagerness of Monica's thoughts so well. Meanwhile Sheila is one of those hypnotically distinctive characters, cruel and beautifully selfish, that I found myself caught between loving and hating. No small surprise that Monica feels the same way.
It's a short and well-written book that I enjoyed very much. But still--disturbingly obsessive friendships between women never seem to go well. Never :(
The first book I ever read by Joyce Carol Oates, a couple of decades ago when it was still recent. I found the story gripping, and the friendship between the two women realistic (though problematic). Have re-read and enjoyed it once since then...perhaps my favorite by JCO to this day.
Solsticio de Joyce Carol Oates. Confrontación psicológica
Decidir cómo comenzar este año tan especial era fundamental para dar impulso a mi idea; lo único que tenía claro era que quería empezar con algo que me gustara mucho; al fin y al cabo se trata de leer, y si no te diviertes leyendo, estás apañado; de ahí que, a modo de círculo que se cierra casi desde el primer instante, pensé en mi querida Joyce Carol Oates. El libro fue puro azar, un libro descatalogado y que tuve que poner directamente en Good Reads porque nadie lo había puesto en la base de datos, esto es ciertamente extraño teniendo en cuenta que el libro es de 1985 y esta edición, en concreto, del año 2002. Anécdotas aparte, la elección ha sido muy adecuada; dentro de las eclécticas posibilidades que nos ofrece la vida y obra de Oates, este libro concretamente, por el tema trata y la forma de hacerlo tiene que ver con una forma de escribir que podría estar asociada más a mujeres, al tratar la extraña relación de amor-odio entre ellas. Al estar leyéndola, de hecho, me vino a la cabeza la idea que sostenía Adrienne Rich según la cual las mujeres llegan a un grado de amistad tan íntimo, tan especial que no puede ser replicado por ninguna amistad entre hombres, ni siquiera homosexual. Rich lo contextualizaba incluso entre amigas que no tienen por qué ser lesbianas. En Solsticio, Joyce Carol Oates aborda este tipo de amistad entre dos mujeres radicalmente distintas, por origen y condición social, por un lado tenemos a Mónica, a pesar de su juventud es experimentada en la vida, a sus veintinueve años se ha divorciado ya, está huyendo del recuerdo de una época que le hizo olvidar lo preciada que era por sí misma: “Mónica, sin sentimentalismo, se vio como una mujer, anteriormente una jovencita con el poder (que no sabía de dónde provenía) de convencer a los demás, durante un tiempo, de su cualidad de “dorada” y especial. La lógica emocional del amor por ella. Se había casado a los veintiún años y divorciado a los veintinueve. Tenía que rendir cuentas por los ocho años, más o menos. (Se había ido a vivir con su novio, en lo que figuraba ser un gesto de desafío, siete u ocho meses antes de la boda. Pero ni la familia de él ni la suya decidieron responder al desafío.) Estaba empezando a olvidar muchas cosas. Ya había olvidado mucho.” Por el otro la poderosísima figura de Sheila Trask, artista con un marido famoso y relacionado con el arte; su descripción es muy significativa, utiliza las características físicas para subrayar la psicología que hay detrás, su llamativa personalidad, incluso la adopción de rasgos de hombre, pero singularmente atractiva: “Así, cuando en la animada fiesta de los Green vio por casualidad a una mujer alta, que entraba en la habitación, de pelo oscuro, vestida de forma descuidada, lo único que pensó Mónica fue que era extraña, llamativa, un “carácter” con un estilo no del todo tangible. Era una mujer de cinco o seis años mayor que Mónica, de unos treinta y pico años, y bastante atractiva, incluso –casi- hermosa, con unos ojos negros burlones, unas espesas cejas sin depilar y una boca grande, seria y curiosa. Tenía un tipo casi dolorosamente anguloso, los hombros caídos, y toda ella era desgarbada. A diferencia de los demás invitados de los Green, no se había tomado el acontecimiento con la suficiente seriedad como para vestirse en consecuencia; llevaba una falda negra sin forma que le caía irregularmente sobre las pantorrillas y una camisa de algodón, barata y demasiado lavada, y lo que parecía ser una chaqueta de hombre de tweed, sin abrochar, que le colgaba de los delgados hombros. Una curiosa ave rapaz, pensó Mónica, maniobrando para poder observar más fácilmente a la mujer.” La amistad entre ambas será el eje de un libro que juega con la caracterización psicológica, en una relación de opuestos, extraña, más difícil de entender desde una perspectiva de un hombre; una relación de extremos donde el odio y el amor aparecen íntimamente relacionados: “Mónica, mirándola fijamente, no lograba decidir si le disgustaba profundamente Sheila Trask y quería que se marchara o bien sentía el tirón de su poderosa atracción. Sheila empezó a meditar en voz alta, diciendo a Mónica que envidiaba sus libros, estos libros concretamente (ejemplares de las Brontë, de Dickens, George Eliot, Trollope, Penguins de lomo naranja) estaban tan doblados en las puntas y gastados, tan subrayados y anotados, que era evidente que el lector no sólo había leído las novelas, sino que las había vivido. ¿Qué valor tenía una novela si no se podría vivir?… ¿Si no era más que una cuestión de palabras colocadas con pericia?” En el anterior texto podemos comprobar estos extremos en el párrafo inicial; en lo siguiente Oates define el sentido de la novela, más como experiencia que simple entretenimiento; si no podemos vivir una novela, ¿qué valor tiene juntar letras? Esta confrontación de dos personalidades tan radicalmente opuestas es utilizada por la autora para caracterizar cuestiones de género de diferentes formas, una de ellas es la presencia de la mujer en el arte, como expliqué anteriormente con El mundo deslumbrante de Siri Hustvedt la mujer tiene que luchar aún más por conseguir abrirse un hueco en la cultura, por conseguir que la valoren por su obra más allá de ser “la mujer… de alguien conocido”: “Si hablaban de Sheila Trask en algún aspecto profesional, era sólo para hablar de Morton Flaxman, quien fue uno de los “grandes nombres” de la región durante muchos años. Había vendido su obra a museos y colecciones de todo el mundo, se había escrito sobre él en revistas nacionales, se le habían concedido premios y había rechazado premios. Había aceptado encargos y rechazado encargos, se le había mencionado junto a Moore, Calder, Lipchitz, David Smith.. En su época fue polémico; no tenía pelos en la lengua. Frente a la biblioteca de la escuela se exhibía orgullosamente una de sus obras tempranas, una especie de figura de piedra, aluminio y bronce: su enigmático nombre era Solsticio.” Sin embargo, con Mónica aborda temas más estructurales sin ser explícita, como el hecho de tener que comportarse de una manera a pesar de estar pasándolo mal, su creencia errónea de que eso le vendrá bien porque se la ha educado así: “En Wrightsville, secuestrada en su habitación, se pasó varias horas (intoxicantes y agotadoras) estudiando detenidamente los álbumes de recortes que había hecho en el bachillerato, buscando a Mónica, la muchacha dorada, Mónica la reina del baile (el penúltimo curso: había sido acaso la vertiginosa cumbre de su vida social?), para darse ánimo con sus tempranos éxitos. Sabía cómo sonreír, entonces, tal como demostraban esas fotografías, sabía cómo expresar felicidad aun cuando no siempre la sintiera. Pues lo volveré a intentar, pensó Mónica inspirada: seré de nuevo esa muchachita.” Más explícitas son las referencias posteriores, pero no menos gráficas, como el caso de la enfermera que, en una clínica abortista, acepta, como si no hubiera posibilidad, la maldición de que este sea un mundo de hombres; lo más doloroso es que se da cuenta de ello en un lugar enteramente dedicado a mujeres, que “huela a desinfectante”, es una cualidad que Oates asocia a una situación en la que la mujer necesita ser desinfectada, desparasitada… “Este es un mundo de hombres, había dicho una de las enfermeras, hacía años, en la clínica de abortos. Este es un mundo de hombres: dicho con un suspiro, como si hablara del tiempo o de la hora del día. Un mundo de hombres, precisamente ese mundo, una clínica iluminada por fluorescentes y oliendo a desinfectante, poblada exclusivamente por mujeres.” Extremo tras extremo, como en el momento en que Mónica sufre una violación; su único refugio es Sheila y aún en esa situación, con su apoyo, no es capaz de encontrar la culpa en el hombre que la ha maltratado sino que se acusa a sí misma; otro indicio de la estructuralidad inherente y establecida donde se convierte a la víctima en la causante de su daño: “Sheila le tomó la cabeza en sus brazos, la meció, le preguntó si quería que la llevara a un médico. Si quería que Sheila denunciara a ese hijo de puta a la policía. Porque, al fin y al cabo la había violentado. Técnicamente y legalmente era una violación. Mónica se echó a reír, y luego a llorar otra vez, en los brazos de Sheila. No, no quería ir al médico, y no quería denunciarlo a la policía, sobre todo había sido culpa suya, déjalo estar…” Mónica, Sheila, dos mujeres, muchos contrastes, una lucha psicológica donde, a pesar de las diferencias entre ellas, se produce un vínculo que más allá de la diversidad, como comentaba al principio sobre Rich: “Mónica se había equivocado, no estaba mejorando rápida, delirantemente. Le intrigaba el pensar que pronto los huesos le atravesarían la piel. Los huesos de la pelvis, las clavículas, las costillas. Le intrigaba que el “envoltorio protector” de la piel, su piel, pronto se podría disolver; y todo el mundo le entraría. Ahora hubiera llamado para pedir ayuda, pero se encontraba demasiado floja. Una llamada a los Jensen de Whightsville, Indiana, pero estaba demasiado floja. Demasiado floja también para defenderse de Sheila Trask; Sheila imponiéndose ante ella: abriéndose paso a la fuerza en la soledad de Mónica donde no se la quería.” Nuevas perspectivas que consiguen que abra mi mente a lo que puede ser posible aunque, en un principio, no lo pueda entender. Empieza mi año, y el estreno es (casi) inmejorable. Lo que me queda por disfrutar. Los textos provienen de la traducción del inglés de Isabel Sancho para Solsticio de Joyce Carol Oates.
This early (1985) novel by Joyce Carol Oates is a deep and frightening psychological study of the intense, dysfunctional friendship—and it is just friendship, although it borders on the erotic—between two women.
Monica Jensen is 29, newly divorced and the newest English teacher on the staff of the Glenkill Academy for Boys, a prestigious Quaker school located in bucolic Bucks County, Pennsylvania. She rents an old, dilapidated, and isolated five-bedroom farmhouse deep in the country. Monica throws herself into her demanding, six-days-a-week job and fixing up the house. She wants to forget her hurtful, eight-year marriage that ended with a three-inch scar on her jaw.
At a crowded reception at the headmaster's residence, she meets the reclusive and somewhat renowned artist Sheila Trask, 42. Some sparks of chemistry click between them. Sheila, who is recently widowed and lives on a huge estate, values her privacy and solitary existence more than anything else. But Monica changes that as the two slowly become friends. Sheila may be sophisticated and wealthy, but she is also brash and meanspirited with an unstable and mercurial personality. She flirts with suicide, terrifying Monica. Monica was considered the golden girl when she was younger—beautiful and sexy. She is meek, shy, and modest, but she accepts Sheila's unpredictable mood swings that often include verbal abuse.
Their relationship teeters with danger and a cruelly obsessive component that scars and scares both women as each is forced to reckon with her past. When something horrific happens to Monica at the same time something wonderful happens to Sheila, it seems as if the two switch personalities—and it could have deadly consequences for one of them.
This is a wrenching, elegiac novel that is not easy to read because it is so emotionally searing. The plot is minimal—and what there is of it frequently gets bogged down—but the novel is profound and brutally perceptive as it seriously examines women's place in the world circa the 1970s.
Still, the book is tedious. Perhaps it would have been better as a short story and not a full novel.
Edit: I appreciate this book much more after book club and it was a fascinating commentary on women and artists in the 1980s. Plus one star. I love book club.
One of those books where my dislike of the characters blinds me to any value it may have. What was the point
‘Solstice’ is a bodice ripper for middle aged, bi-curious women…
which isn’t the reason why it was bad, it was just something unexpected to me. I bought the book because the blurb sounded thrilling: making promises of a “gripping” story about two women and their friendship, love and obsession. Whilst I’m glad I read the novel, as it was the first text by Joyce Carol Oates that I’ve consumed, I wish I had instead opted for a pirated PDF edition rather than the $10 physical copy I picked up from the bookstore clearance table. The text delivered on none of its promises. It was lazy, poorly conceived and written (my favourite scene being one that began with Monica and Sheila talking on the phone, forgetting this a paragraph later, and finished with them stroking each others cheeks??). It was a waste of attention. It made me quite angry and, in fact, made me partially lose faith in said clearance tables.
First and foremost the story is very forwardly queer, which is unusual because nothing queer… actually… happens. I felt like I was being taken advantage of by Oates, because as I read more and more, constantly expecting a forward provocation or queer attraction to match the very direct narration, it just never came. If subtlety was the goal then that was missed by the third time Monica admired Sheilas beauty within the first part. Beyond this the text was boring, repetitive (whole paragraphs being copied and pasted time and time again) and random.
My main grief with the text came in the last 50-or-so pages, which I was already reluctant to read, when Oates utilises a SA + Suicide narrative, out of the blue, yet with intense foreshadowing, which came across as a cheap, thoughtless way to end a 200+ page book that frankly didn’t need to be written in the first place. It was insensitive to tack on such heavy subject matter as a narrative gimmick; and insulting to overshadow what could have been an epic moment of queer visibility, for a book from the 80s, all for the sake of an ending. In this regard Oates rushed a lethargic book to conclusion and it gave me mental whiplash.
Oscar Wilde, whilst facing criticism and censorship in the late 19th Century, still managed to write texts more authentically and proudly queer than Oates, who was evidently afraid to write about anything more explicit than juvenile hand holding.
Giving it 2-Stars instead of 1 because I hated it so much it was, in that regard, fun to think about.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Zwischen zwei ungleichen Frauen, der exzentrischen, verwitweten Malerin Sheila und der gefälligen, frisch geschiedenen Lehrerin Monica besteht eine intensive Freundschaft, die sich der Leserin schnell als Abhängigkeit enthüllt. Monica übernimmt dabei die Rolle der verfügbaren Zuhörerin und Mitläuferin für die dominante Sheila, braucht aber auch deren Aufmerksamkeit als Bestätigung und Aufwertung ihrer selbst. Die ungesunde Verwicklung der beiden ist das Hauptthema des Romans, der in einem ländlichen Umfeld, anhand der Kleiderbeschreibungen in den frühen 1980er Jahren, angesiedelt ist. (Nebenthemen: bildende Kunst, affektive Störung, Kleinstadtleben)
Joyce stellt diese toxische Frauenfreundschaft nachvollziehbar dar, auch wenn sie sich die Erklärung der genauen Entstehung ebendieser sehr einfach macht (nach einem ersten wenig erfreulichen Treffen begegnen sich die beiden Frauen zufällig im Ort und von da an sind sie eng verbunden). Vielleicht funktioniert eine Identifikation mit Monica bei der us-amerikanischen Leserschaft besser, einer Gesellschaft die der Form und einem angepassten, die Form wahrenden Auftreten viel Wert beimisst. Mir blieben beide Figuren emotional fern, obwohl ich das Thema selbst durchaus kenne. Ein gutes Buch zum Thema (komplizierte) Freundschaft.
As the information on the cover suggest, SOLSTICE literally has three meanings: a furthest point, a turning point, or a point of culmination. I guess I expected the relationship of the two women who become friends (who are from time to time estranged) to come to a turning point -- much like I have understood the word in connection to the turning of the seasons in the Midwest -- for better or for worse. But that is not what happens: rather the artist and the teacher alternately love one another as very good friends or one of the two becomes petulant and becomes estranged from the other for a while off and on for a year. At the end of the book this does not feel resolved to me. The relationship seems doomed to continue as the two of them continue to do harm to themselves and to one another. I recommend it right up to the very unresolved ending. I know endings are difficult to write, but this is Joyce Carol Oates!
So, I must be honest: I really only read this because it takes place in the town I live in and Solstice is actually the name of my favorite Urban Decay eyeshadow. This was also the FIRST Oates Book I actually completed. I read half of Bellefleur and set it to the side for another day. I shall pick it up soon as it has the gothic tone that I crave so much. This was a very well written case study of two memorable women and how their friendship blurs the lines into a relationship. Not much action takes place and the story line is a bit mundane, so if you are desiring any action or drama- you probably won't enjoy this too much. But if you like character studies, and getting into the psych of human interactions, then this book is perfect for you. Warning: The ending left me majorly unsettled and felt really rushed. 3 solid stars, for the writing kept me interested and flipping pages! It was well worth the ride!
Solstice is a darkly strange story of two women who are attracted to each other largely because each is so startlingly different from the other. Sheila Trask is a quixotic artist who lives life large with intermittent manic and depressive episodes that occur around the creative process. Monica Jensen, newly divorced and relocated to the area near where Sheila resides is a teacher at a Preparatory School for boys. Sheila is a tall and arresting brunette, Monica a petite blond who is quiet and reserved. As they enter each other's worlds through their friendship, boundaries merge with shattering results. Joyce Carol Oates has a unique style that slowly builds the events around what begins to feel like a cataclysmic event to come. The ending is so menacing that the reader is left catching their breath.
Listened to Solstice during self-quarantine and I don't have much to add to what the other reviewers said about it. The friendship lacks credibility and the story meanders a lot. The nicest thing I can say about Solstice is that the reader did a good job. She made me keep listening even though I thought the novel was awful.
Such a delicate way of retelling the story of two women. Oates tells the story in such an intimate way, somehow it feels like you are in the room but also there is a removal in which you couldn't feel more separated from the closeness they share. There are few other characters, which really enhance the relationship.
DNF @38% — I’m BORED. respectfully this book is way too short for me to not care about any character or plot point this far in. what is there for me. are they even sapphic. does anything happen. idc.
"You shouldn't have done this—you shouldn't have doubted me—we'll be friends for a long, long time", she says, "—unless one of us dies."
What's better than an erotically-charged, near-fatal obsession between a demure, very proper English teacher and the mysterious painter and horserider extraordinaire who lives recluse in her big mansion a few miles away? As it turns out, few things.
Joyce Carol Oates' heroines are often layered, bitterly resilient and definitely not completely likeable, and this book is no exception. The never-ending, labyrinthic power struggle between Sheila and Monica is unnerving and fascinating and grimly funny at times.
I have read a few of Mrs Oates' books, and I think this one is my favourite — it is shorter than her most renowned novels, yet it leaves an impression just as intense and indelible. I tend to jump from one book to another and read multiple books at a time (according to Virginia Woolf, there is no better way to read) but I engulfed this one in three mere days. Would recommend it to readers of Margaret Atwood, Carmen Maria Machado, or simply to people who like Rebecca.
I finished Joyce Carol Oates’ Solstice last night. A dear friend mailed it to me last month, with a note saying that it “gave me weird dreams, and I hope you like it.”
In true JCO fashion, it was an intense, mildly confusing, slightly angering tale. Two women who become friends for reasons that are never really explored develop a sort of codependent relationship that leaves them both bitter and angry a majority of the time. The sickness and art of Sheila is thrilling for the bored schoolteacher Monica, [mild spoilers ahead] but giving over her life to the other woman leaves her with a madness that nearly kills her.
It’s a look and commentary at deep friendships, the art world of the 70’s and 80’s, small town socialization. It’s such a simple story on the outset: Monica and Sheila become friends. But JCO is so good at drawing out emotions and wreaking havoc on a should-be simple life, relationship, persona. So good! The last line is going to stay with me for a long time, perhaps until I die.
I still haven't read a novel by Joyce Carol Oates that I really love. Hmm, maybe it's b/c I just choose them randomly from the shelves of the library based on their titles or cover art, not on any recommendations. Which one should I read? Any suggestions out there? Anyway, in case you want to know about this one, it is a story of 2 women in this small town in Pennsylvania who have this intense kind of screwed-up friendship in which there is a really weird power dynamic. One of them is semi-famous and needs a groupie and the other is a blond divorcee who feels like she's lost some past promise and needs to be flattered and needed. One weird thing about it is that the 2 characters are relatively young (late 20s, mid-30s) and yet the way they are written about it is as if they are aging. I wonder how old the author was when she wrote this. Anyway, it wasn't terrible and parts of it were insightful but it didn't grab me.