The recent heir to her grandmother's house, a young girl rents it for the summer to a professor and a group of students whose long, abstract, philosophical discussions become meaningful to her as the summer wears on.
Jill Paton Walsh was born Gillian Bliss in London on April 29th, 1937. She was educated at St. Michael's Convent, North Finchley, and at St. Anne's College, Oxford. From 1959 to 1962 she taught English at Enfield Girls' Grammar School.
Jill Paton Walsh has won the Book World Festival Award, 1970, for Fireweed; the Whitbread Prize, 1974 (for a Children's novel) for The Emperor's Winding Sheet; The Boston Globe-Horn Book Award 1976 for Unleaving; The Universe Prize, 1984 for A Parcel of Patterns; and the Smarties Grand Prix, 1984, for Gaffer Samson's Luck.
Like a few others reviewers on here, I don't really think that this book is really quite suitable for any but the most mature of high schoolers, not because the contents of the story have particularly mature elements, but because the story itself is quite mature, despite its short length.
(Five clauses in one sentence, I'm on a roll! Whoo!)
The main theme of the book is very much there and weighs heavily on the story, but at the same time it's rather subtle and difficult to nail down. Walsh isn't as interested in making any kind of point as much as pointing out facets in life and philosophy that should make us thoughtful. The fact that the main characters happened to be teenagers is less about appealing to that demographic and more about introducing these characters to the ambiguities of adult life.
Walsh's prose is extraordinarily beautiful and captivating. Honestly, I don't think the book would have been half as good if it weren't so well-written. I will definitely read more of Walsh's books, just to read more of her words.
Complex, masterfully plotted with echoes of Woolf, Unleaving is an accomplished young adult novel which, I felt, called equally if not more so, to adults. Drawn back to Goldengrove with gran having passed away, this dual-time narrative, revisits Madge as she lodges out her inherited home to a group of philosophy lecturers and their students. In amongst their cohort is the angry, troubled son of a philsophy professor, Patrick, and his sister, Molly, who has Down's Syndrome. The novel explores Madge's interest with the rather dry, philosophical discussions and the tormented vitality of Patrick to whom she is drawn, perhaps because he mirrors her own isolation. Central to the book is the question of morality and how (if) we should live our lives and, more importantly perhaps, who we choose to share this life with: quite a powerful message for any young adult. The book is a tour-de-force of the very best writing but I can't help but feel that Unleaving was Paton Walsh's calling to adult literature.
This book was in the children's section of my school library and I'm not sure why. Not that it's a bad book--it's well written and interesting and the prose often sings. ("And far out, in the distance, the lighthouse in a tissue of haze is just visble" (134).) There's a masterful interweaving of past and present which reminded me of several of Rumer Godden's books. But its themes are adult and though there are children in the book, the tone and philosophical discussions make it definitely not a child's book. Maybe young adult.
I'm still not sure if I like it or not. I tend to be fond of past and present interwoven, if done well and this was done well. And, despite the very gloomy outlook of several main characters, the book ends up affirming love and beauty. Madge is a very sympathetic character and Patrick, if not exactly sympathetic, is interesting. If you think you'd like a fairly quick read with some philosophical and moral dilemmas, set on the Cornish coast, you'd probably like this one.
The treatment of a child with Down's syndrome in this 1976 publication, although perhaps originally well-meaning, is glaringly, uncomfortably outdated. For this, I would probably not recommend this book at all today.
The interweaving of past and present is well done, and the setting is conveyed in rich detail. The story is heavy with philosophical discourse--a strange facet, but I did find it somewhat intriguing. Ultimately, I found the tragedy to be overdone.
p.s. I'm curious about it's publication as Young Adult fiction. Even though the main character is a young adult in most of the story, the book seems to be of the adult ilk. Perhaps the awkward 'young adult" designation stems from the era in which it was published.
2022 Thumbnail Review #87 Unleaving by Jill Paton Walsh
While we’re on the Ws (Woolf, Waugh, Walsh), here’s the sequel to Goldengrove, where Madge, now a Sixth Former, has inherited the house from her grandmother. It continues themes of growing up, perception and memory, and alternates between Madge as a teenager and as a grandmother herself (a time lapse which again has echoes of the latter parts of To The Lighthouse). It’s very good and beautifully written.
It has been a long time since I read an entire book in a day, and a long time since a book has made me cry. I found my copy at a thrift store last summer for $0.48–something about it called to me. I’m so glad I finally read it. Here’s my favorite quote:
“So I suppose,” says Madge, sipping more whisky, “that real happiness is having one’s favorite self, the person one most likes to be, loved by someone.”
Definitely a 3.5 not a solid 3. It felt like a weirdly appropriate winter read despite it taking place in summer—it just evokes the slow pace and introspective feelings both seasons provoke. This feels like a book Mary Oliver would deeply enjoy.
I'm glad I live with a philosophy major to discuss this book. I'm going to read it again to try to understand the student's discussion questions. Good story line.
Some of Jill Paton Walsh's books are at the top of my top favorites' list. This is not one of them, however. It was disjointed, hard to follow the threads from the various generations in this book which centered around a house.
Although this was a highly acclaimed book in its day, it hasn't held up. In particular, the treatment of a young girl with Down's syndrome is really uncomfortable and makes it hard to recommend this title. Worse than the outdated language is the sense that the author didn't have real-life experience with anyone with Down's syndrome-- the portrayal is just off. I will say that the writing is strong, and the author finds more ways to describe the ocean - the light, the sand, the waves - than any author I've ever read. The philosophical conversations weren't my cup of tea, and I feel very strongly about Madge's choice of partner (modern sensibilities again?). If you DO pick this book up, don't read the front or back cover - it gives away the only major plot point, which doesn't happen until more than 2/3 of the way through the book.