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North Face
On holiday in the North Devon countryside, Neil Langton looks back on the wreckage of his past. He has come to believe that all happiness is behind him; the wounds from his former marriage - in which his wife cheated on him and his young daughter died - are still raw. While rock-climbing, he meets Ellen, a young woman whom he saves from a mountainside accident. Ellen, too, is looking to escape her painful past, struggling to deal with her feelings for the man she loved - a pilot who died in service. Set in postwar Britain, and filled with a memorable cast of characters, North Face is a love story rich in atmosphere and tension.
286 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1948
About the author
Mary Renault
46 books1,838 followersMary Renault was an English writer best known for her historical novels set in Ancient Greece. In addition to vivid fictional portrayals of Theseus, Socrates, Plato and Alexander the Great, she wrote a non-fiction biography of Alexander.
Her historical novels are all set in ancient Greece. They include a pair of novels about the mythological hero Theseus and a trilogy about the career of Alexander the Great. In a sense, The Charioteer (1953), the story of two young gay servicemen in the 1940s who try to model their relationship on the ideals expressed in Plato's Phaedrus and Symposium, is a warm-up for Renault's historical novels. By turning away from the 20th century and focusing on stories about male lovers in the warrior societies of ancient Greece, Renault no longer had to deal with homosexuality and anti-gay prejudice as social "problems". Instead she was free to focus on larger ethical and philosophical concerns, while examining the nature of love and leadership. The Charioteer could not be published in the U.S. until 1959, after the success of The Last of the Wine proved that American readers and critics would accept a serious gay love story.
Her historical novels are all set in ancient Greece. They include a pair of novels about the mythological hero Theseus and a trilogy about the career of Alexander the Great. In a sense, The Charioteer (1953), the story of two young gay servicemen in the 1940s who try to model their relationship on the ideals expressed in Plato's Phaedrus and Symposium, is a warm-up for Renault's historical novels. By turning away from the 20th century and focusing on stories about male lovers in the warrior societies of ancient Greece, Renault no longer had to deal with homosexuality and anti-gay prejudice as social "problems". Instead she was free to focus on larger ethical and philosophical concerns, while examining the nature of love and leadership. The Charioteer could not be published in the U.S. until 1959, after the success of The Last of the Wine proved that American readers and critics would accept a serious gay love story.
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
August 4, 2021
This is a hard one to rate. Obviously, being Mary Renault, the writing is exquisite: full of sharp insights into her characters' personalities, keenly observant about human suffering and grace, subtle and lovely in its attention to details. There's the atmosphere, the aftershocks of WW2 still shuddering even through the most tranquil of scenes and the most sturdy-minded of characters. The setting of coastal Devon is beautifully captured. The details of mid-40s mountaineering were fascinating, well-researched, and lent a nail-biting quality to the climbing scenes.
There's all that, and then there's the plot - a so-called love story that, no matter how interesting the two characters are in their own right, is so deeply steeped in 40s morality and gender dynamics that it made the whole book, however technically accomplished, a teeth-gritting chore to get through. The relationship - between a mid-forties schoolmaster and a woman about twenty years his junior, both of them scarred by personal tragedies - is horribly unequal. Neil, the male POV character, considers himself so clearly Ellen's patronising superior in every way, belittling, infantilising and patiently grooming her throughout the story (all the while thinking himself exceedingly patient and generous), that by the end all I wanted was for someone (preferably Ellen) to shove him off the nearest cliff. It reminded me a lot of how Maxim de Winter treats his wife, including delightful little "fond" nicknames like "you crazy little idiot", "stupid" and "you utter child", only at least we don't have to spend the entirety of Rebecca in Maxim's head.
The gross dynamics aren't helped any by the presence of two female side characters who act as a sort of Greek chorus by observing and commenting on the developing romance. They're both intelligent and interesting women and I enjoyed their perspectives a lot, even if just for the temporary reprieve they provided from Neil's, but they were presented and perceived as ridiculous gossiping spinsters that the reader is encouraged to laugh at rather than with. Blech.
The saddest thing to me, though, was that I found it impossible to suspend a modern reader mindset so far as to read Ellen's character as anything other than asexual (she's a grown woman who has zero interest in, and a strong distaste for, sexual relations with men that she has/had romantic feelings for, and feels horrible apprehension at the thought that it will be expected of her*). So the thought that Neil, with supreme conviction of his own generosity, is going to "coax" (read: bully) her through it with schoolmasterly patience (rather than force her, as he briefly contemplates; what a gentleman) once they're married, and that's meant to be a happy outcome for them both, is pretty stomach-turning.
*A belated supposed explanation felt less than authentic.
It isn't as if Renault was conventional-minded about these things, either; obviously she shone in her antiquity-set stories where she could dispense with mid-20th century morality, and even in her contemporary novels, this one included, there's often a sly undertone to the narrative that invites you not to take everything at face value. It's always subtle, though, which in this case was definitely not satisfying enough to get you over the massive overhang of patriarchal smugness overshadowing the entire story.
There's all that, and then there's the plot - a so-called love story that, no matter how interesting the two characters are in their own right, is so deeply steeped in 40s morality and gender dynamics that it made the whole book, however technically accomplished, a teeth-gritting chore to get through. The relationship - between a mid-forties schoolmaster and a woman about twenty years his junior, both of them scarred by personal tragedies - is horribly unequal. Neil, the male POV character, considers himself so clearly Ellen's patronising superior in every way, belittling, infantilising and patiently grooming her throughout the story (all the while thinking himself exceedingly patient and generous), that by the end all I wanted was for someone (preferably Ellen) to shove him off the nearest cliff. It reminded me a lot of how Maxim de Winter treats his wife, including delightful little "fond" nicknames like "you crazy little idiot", "stupid" and "you utter child", only at least we don't have to spend the entirety of Rebecca in Maxim's head.
The gross dynamics aren't helped any by the presence of two female side characters who act as a sort of Greek chorus by observing and commenting on the developing romance. They're both intelligent and interesting women and I enjoyed their perspectives a lot, even if just for the temporary reprieve they provided from Neil's, but they were presented and perceived as ridiculous gossiping spinsters that the reader is encouraged to laugh at rather than with. Blech.
The saddest thing to me, though, was that I found it impossible to suspend a modern reader mindset so far as to read Ellen's character as anything other than asexual (she's a grown woman who has zero interest in, and a strong distaste for, sexual relations with men that she has/had romantic feelings for, and feels horrible apprehension at the thought that it will be expected of her*). So the thought that Neil, with supreme conviction of his own generosity, is going to "coax" (read: bully) her through it with schoolmasterly patience (rather than force her, as he briefly contemplates; what a gentleman) once they're married, and that's meant to be a happy outcome for them both, is pretty stomach-turning.
*A belated supposed explanation felt less than authentic.
It isn't as if Renault was conventional-minded about these things, either; obviously she shone in her antiquity-set stories where she could dispense with mid-20th century morality, and even in her contemporary novels, this one included, there's often a sly undertone to the narrative that invites you not to take everything at face value. It's always subtle, though, which in this case was definitely not satisfying enough to get you over the massive overhang of patriarchal smugness overshadowing the entire story.
June 22, 2019
I love Mary Renault’s fiction, even a novel like this written immediately after the war when she was still warming up. A hymn to the genre of mountain climbing which was so important to that generation, a document of post-WWII life in Somerset and with gems such as this, “She was the kind of woman who, with more than enough intelligence to play her cards well, would play them badly sooner than admit to herself that she was playing at all”.
April 7, 2016
I don't think I've ever read a book where I was so fervently hoping that the protagonists wouldn't end up getting together. And this despite it being described as a "romance" by Wikipedia (although as the entry also gets one of their names wrong that's probably just par for the course).
April 26, 2026
I read Mary Renault’s iconic novel “The Charioteer” for the first time some forty years ago (in perplexed adolescent disappointment) and then again more recently in life-battered maturity (now giving it an enthusiastic five-star rating). So I was intrigued to read this earlier novel of hers to see how the two compared.
While the “The Charioteer” has an extensive cast of characters and settings, “North Face” has a narrower focus. It centres on a small group of folk in a guest-house on the rugged North Devon coast in September 1948. These people are:
- Mrs Kearsley, the widowed landlady (Mrs K to her more intimate guests), anxiously garrulous with “a stream of palliative platitudes” (p21). She frets about the tone of her establishment and about the challenges of post-war shortages and rationing.
- Miss Searle, a refined unmarried schoolteacher, judgemental, “bloodless and desiccated” (p121). She’s super-snobby and only engages with real life once it’s “been safely sterilised by literature” (p148).
- Bright and breezy Miss Fisher, a forceful hospital matron in her thirties. She’s “a rock of good sense” (p116), kind and thoughtful. She’s also conscious of “being common” and would love to be bohemian with an “intellectual” husband.
- Neil Langton, tough, troubled and taciturn (“His face, and his voice, were simply a full-stop” p27). He’s a repressed, bookish schoolmaster who’s gradually revealed to be traumatised by personal domestic tragedy, and who now takes physical and emotional refuge in rock-climbing.
- Ellen Shortland, annoyingly “timid, neutral and untidy” (p63), intended for Oxford but spent the war in an aircraft factory instead. Ellen, like Neil, rock-climbs to help repress her emotions and manage her grief for her dead RAF boyfriend. Her relationship with Neil develops painfully and to be frank, rather tediously, as they climb together - an ascent both physical and metaphorical that also serves as the chapter-by-chapter structure of the novel.
The novel veers intriguingly between the cosy and the metaphorical. There’s domestic period detail aplenty such as:
- Scones for afternoon tea made with margarine because butter’s too scarce and rationed.
- Miss Fisher striving for glamour in American “nylon stockings, anchors of self-confidence in an uncertain world” (p24) whilst Miss Searle wears “woollen ones, because of her cold” (p22).
- Confident modern women like Lettice Winter who “unconcernedly” use powder and lipstick in public, something Miss Searle considers “needless and a little repulsive” (p57).
- Queuing round the block to wait for seats to become free for a film that has already started, and then staying in your seat during the next showing of the film up to the point you first came in (p124).
- The lingering influence of American GIs who brought candy, Hollywood clichés and glamour to wartime Britain - as well as the lure of a spiced-up love life for bored housewives like Neil Langton’s young wife, Susan, leading to a broken marriage and the tragic death of their toddler, Sally.
Then there are descriptions so bleak and intense, we feel they must be intended metaphorically rather than literally. For example:
- The impenetrable bracken like “primeval jungles” and dark, threatening woodlands.
- The glassy sea and bleak horizon “like cold lead” (p45).
- Distant clouds that “lie supine in the heavy sky, gravid with thunder and waiting listlessly” (p259) and dense, inert skies that seem “more than usually secret and remote” (p201).
- The cliffs and rock faces that are like characters themselves, unyielding, oppressive and dangerous.
If the landscape seems unforgiving and bleak, then the language of the novel also sometimes becomes challenging and unyielding. For example, the text includes:
- Latin hexameters by Virgil (p39), references to poetry by Coleridge, and quotes from Middle-English verse (p33) that’s impenetrable to “uneducated” Miss Fisher (and probably most readers).
- Baffling crossword clues set by the mysterious Torquemada that “obstruct and stone-wall” (p74) even the cerebral Neil Langton.
- Esoteric jargon that looks like a “cabalistic formula” (p47) describing particular rock-climbing ascents.
- A lengthy extract from a chronicle by the medieval poet, Froissart, which Ellen “summarises” for Neil as they walk to a bus stop together (pages 158 to 164). They don’t do small talk. Instead they earnestly and endlessly discuss highbrow literature, philosophy and ethics rather than their own practical relationship problems.
When I wasn’t busy looking up words in the dictionary, sentences that I particularly relished in the novel, which seem very Mary Renault-esque, include these:
- “In Miss Searle’s view, one made a sufficient contribution to realism by admitting that the Seamy Side existed” (p14).
- “Miss Searle felt the aura of male negativism like a cramp in the back of her neck” (p23).
- “He was a man in whose presence pauses quickly became embarrassing” (p71).
- “Grief was too familiar to have any ambushes left for her” (p115).
- “Exchanging ideas with women was always an illusion; they tagged everything on to some emotion” (p116).
… and perhaps the most perplexingly ironic words of all to find in a novel:
- “He considered the hopelessness of words: words which are the straitjacket of the imagination” (p138).
One final thought on Mary Renault’s characteristic conflict between domestic cosiness and metaphorical abstraction.
If I were to go out on a date with my sweetheart I feel sure I’d check and double-check the times of the last bus home. And if we then missed that bus - entirely down to my not reading the timetable properly - I probably wouldn’t take myself off for a solitary four pints in a backstreet boozer, leaving my sweetheart alone in a hotel reception for hours waiting for me to return.
But this is exactly what Neil Langton does in the novel when they miss the last bus home - twenty-odd miles from their holiday guest-house. I found this to be a fascinating example of something quite typically Mary Renault: a strange blend of excruciating realism (omg, did he really do that!) with the oddly dream-like and unreal intensity that makes you wonder whether perhaps none of this might be really happening anyway …
While the “The Charioteer” has an extensive cast of characters and settings, “North Face” has a narrower focus. It centres on a small group of folk in a guest-house on the rugged North Devon coast in September 1948. These people are:
- Mrs Kearsley, the widowed landlady (Mrs K to her more intimate guests), anxiously garrulous with “a stream of palliative platitudes” (p21). She frets about the tone of her establishment and about the challenges of post-war shortages and rationing.
- Miss Searle, a refined unmarried schoolteacher, judgemental, “bloodless and desiccated” (p121). She’s super-snobby and only engages with real life once it’s “been safely sterilised by literature” (p148).
- Bright and breezy Miss Fisher, a forceful hospital matron in her thirties. She’s “a rock of good sense” (p116), kind and thoughtful. She’s also conscious of “being common” and would love to be bohemian with an “intellectual” husband.
- Neil Langton, tough, troubled and taciturn (“His face, and his voice, were simply a full-stop” p27). He’s a repressed, bookish schoolmaster who’s gradually revealed to be traumatised by personal domestic tragedy, and who now takes physical and emotional refuge in rock-climbing.
- Ellen Shortland, annoyingly “timid, neutral and untidy” (p63), intended for Oxford but spent the war in an aircraft factory instead. Ellen, like Neil, rock-climbs to help repress her emotions and manage her grief for her dead RAF boyfriend. Her relationship with Neil develops painfully and to be frank, rather tediously, as they climb together - an ascent both physical and metaphorical that also serves as the chapter-by-chapter structure of the novel.
The novel veers intriguingly between the cosy and the metaphorical. There’s domestic period detail aplenty such as:
- Scones for afternoon tea made with margarine because butter’s too scarce and rationed.
- Miss Fisher striving for glamour in American “nylon stockings, anchors of self-confidence in an uncertain world” (p24) whilst Miss Searle wears “woollen ones, because of her cold” (p22).
- Confident modern women like Lettice Winter who “unconcernedly” use powder and lipstick in public, something Miss Searle considers “needless and a little repulsive” (p57).
- Queuing round the block to wait for seats to become free for a film that has already started, and then staying in your seat during the next showing of the film up to the point you first came in (p124).
- The lingering influence of American GIs who brought candy, Hollywood clichés and glamour to wartime Britain - as well as the lure of a spiced-up love life for bored housewives like Neil Langton’s young wife, Susan, leading to a broken marriage and the tragic death of their toddler, Sally.
Then there are descriptions so bleak and intense, we feel they must be intended metaphorically rather than literally. For example:
- The impenetrable bracken like “primeval jungles” and dark, threatening woodlands.
- The glassy sea and bleak horizon “like cold lead” (p45).
- Distant clouds that “lie supine in the heavy sky, gravid with thunder and waiting listlessly” (p259) and dense, inert skies that seem “more than usually secret and remote” (p201).
- The cliffs and rock faces that are like characters themselves, unyielding, oppressive and dangerous.
If the landscape seems unforgiving and bleak, then the language of the novel also sometimes becomes challenging and unyielding. For example, the text includes:
- Latin hexameters by Virgil (p39), references to poetry by Coleridge, and quotes from Middle-English verse (p33) that’s impenetrable to “uneducated” Miss Fisher (and probably most readers).
- Baffling crossword clues set by the mysterious Torquemada that “obstruct and stone-wall” (p74) even the cerebral Neil Langton.
- Esoteric jargon that looks like a “cabalistic formula” (p47) describing particular rock-climbing ascents.
- A lengthy extract from a chronicle by the medieval poet, Froissart, which Ellen “summarises” for Neil as they walk to a bus stop together (pages 158 to 164). They don’t do small talk. Instead they earnestly and endlessly discuss highbrow literature, philosophy and ethics rather than their own practical relationship problems.
When I wasn’t busy looking up words in the dictionary, sentences that I particularly relished in the novel, which seem very Mary Renault-esque, include these:
- “In Miss Searle’s view, one made a sufficient contribution to realism by admitting that the Seamy Side existed” (p14).
- “Miss Searle felt the aura of male negativism like a cramp in the back of her neck” (p23).
- “He was a man in whose presence pauses quickly became embarrassing” (p71).
- “Grief was too familiar to have any ambushes left for her” (p115).
- “Exchanging ideas with women was always an illusion; they tagged everything on to some emotion” (p116).
… and perhaps the most perplexingly ironic words of all to find in a novel:
- “He considered the hopelessness of words: words which are the straitjacket of the imagination” (p138).
One final thought on Mary Renault’s characteristic conflict between domestic cosiness and metaphorical abstraction.
If I were to go out on a date with my sweetheart I feel sure I’d check and double-check the times of the last bus home. And if we then missed that bus - entirely down to my not reading the timetable properly - I probably wouldn’t take myself off for a solitary four pints in a backstreet boozer, leaving my sweetheart alone in a hotel reception for hours waiting for me to return.
But this is exactly what Neil Langton does in the novel when they miss the last bus home - twenty-odd miles from their holiday guest-house. I found this to be a fascinating example of something quite typically Mary Renault: a strange blend of excruciating realism (omg, did he really do that!) with the oddly dream-like and unreal intensity that makes you wonder whether perhaps none of this might be really happening anyway …
February 27, 2020
I read Mary Renault's "The Persian Boy" last year, a part of her trilogy about Alexander the Great with an emphasis on his gay love life. Nowadays, she is mostly known as a pioneer for literary portrayal of gay history romances (she was a Lesbian herself). I picked up "North Face" because I really liked Renault's writing and found it in a bargain bin. I would not have recognized her from the writing alone, as this is very different to what I'd read of her before. There's a preface that talks about Mary Renault and her writing, which I found really interesting, but it hardly mentions "North Face" itself, except for saying that it was part of her earlier work of contemporary novels. Well, contemporary when it was released in 1948.
This post world war II novel is "romance" novel about two people who meet in a boarding house in Cornwell, or rather while mountain climbing there. Neil Langton has tragically lost his young daughter and is trying to get a divorce from his wife who cheated on him while he was fighting in the war. Ellen Shorland has her own struggling past related to the war and love, which we only find out towards the end of the novel. I say "romance" because it is not a very romantic love story, but rather a fragmented story about two lonely people who'd do well with some therapy, instead of latching onto each other quite so strongly. I was rooting for both characters, but I wasn't necessarily rooting for them to get together. I felt they'd have been better off as friends.
I really enjoyed Renault's style, maybe even more so than in the Persian Boy. The novel is very atmospheric, but it suffered from a lack of drama and the narrative was quite thin at times. Especially in the chapters that were written from the perspective of the woman running the boarding house.
In short, a good novel, but not a must read. I will definitely go on reading Renault's other novels.
This post world war II novel is "romance" novel about two people who meet in a boarding house in Cornwell, or rather while mountain climbing there. Neil Langton has tragically lost his young daughter and is trying to get a divorce from his wife who cheated on him while he was fighting in the war. Ellen Shorland has her own struggling past related to the war and love, which we only find out towards the end of the novel. I say "romance" because it is not a very romantic love story, but rather a fragmented story about two lonely people who'd do well with some therapy, instead of latching onto each other quite so strongly. I was rooting for both characters, but I wasn't necessarily rooting for them to get together. I felt they'd have been better off as friends.
I really enjoyed Renault's style, maybe even more so than in the Persian Boy. The novel is very atmospheric, but it suffered from a lack of drama and the narrative was quite thin at times. Especially in the chapters that were written from the perspective of the woman running the boarding house.
In short, a good novel, but not a must read. I will definitely go on reading Renault's other novels.
June 11, 2015
I didn't enjoy the plot, too slow, and couldn't really care for any of the characters. The main players had both suffered terribly and should have earned our sympathy, but this wore out over time. The selection of chapter titles to reflect the stages of a mountain expedition was odd and contrived. Yet I would still recommend reading it if the following is of interest to you.
The book was written and published in the immediate aftermath of WW2 which hangs over most of it. All the main characters are lower middle class and reasonably comfortable financially, so poverty is not an issue which is explored. However, we are almost constantly confronted with an entirely different world in social, legal and economic issues. For example, The lack of petrol, the almost universal nature of rationing and how it shapes behaviour and aspirations, together with the pervasiveness of coupons. Or how someone awaiting their finalisation of a divorce might have to commit perjury if they have sex. Even a grown man meeting an unknown toddler in the street helping her to blow her nose, physically playing with her and then giving her coupons and money to get sweets - entirely innocently I must add, but unthinkable today.
The greatest contrast with now is the different attitude to sex outside of marriage and the belief of others that they have a right to demand standards of conforming behaviour from others. Surprisingly to me, the morals around divorce don't get a mention, but fidelity to a standard is rigidly expected and enforced. This was the strata in society where 'respectability' was most evident, hence why MR pitched it there, but I doubt it was not accurately portrayed and was not exaggerated.
So I would recommend it to anyone who wants to get a snapshot of English society and attitudes immediately after the War, but of a fairly narrow stratum within that society.
The book was written and published in the immediate aftermath of WW2 which hangs over most of it. All the main characters are lower middle class and reasonably comfortable financially, so poverty is not an issue which is explored. However, we are almost constantly confronted with an entirely different world in social, legal and economic issues. For example, The lack of petrol, the almost universal nature of rationing and how it shapes behaviour and aspirations, together with the pervasiveness of coupons. Or how someone awaiting their finalisation of a divorce might have to commit perjury if they have sex. Even a grown man meeting an unknown toddler in the street helping her to blow her nose, physically playing with her and then giving her coupons and money to get sweets - entirely innocently I must add, but unthinkable today.
The greatest contrast with now is the different attitude to sex outside of marriage and the belief of others that they have a right to demand standards of conforming behaviour from others. Surprisingly to me, the morals around divorce don't get a mention, but fidelity to a standard is rigidly expected and enforced. This was the strata in society where 'respectability' was most evident, hence why MR pitched it there, but I doubt it was not accurately portrayed and was not exaggerated.
So I would recommend it to anyone who wants to get a snapshot of English society and attitudes immediately after the War, but of a fairly narrow stratum within that society.
August 20, 2018
It was a book which was written in the 1930's and such had the language and prose of the time. It was interesting in a distracted way, for me. I found the early part of the book tedious and rather dry. It did gain momentum in the middle but got convoluted toward the ending.
The characters depths were either shallow or intense depending on the chapter. It seemed to be wanting to say something but kept tippy toeing around the issue. Toward the end we discover that there is an issue but due to the times it is not actually spoken of, but rather implied. It comes as a jolt to discover the issue but at the same time it is welcomed as a hoo-bloody-ray something happened!
Perhaps I am being too hard, but it was a bit too slow and melodramatic for my tastes.
I am sure Mary Renault has written far better novels than this, and I do aim to read more of her works.
The characters depths were either shallow or intense depending on the chapter. It seemed to be wanting to say something but kept tippy toeing around the issue. Toward the end we discover that there is an issue but due to the times it is not actually spoken of, but rather implied. It comes as a jolt to discover the issue but at the same time it is welcomed as a hoo-bloody-ray something happened!
Perhaps I am being too hard, but it was a bit too slow and melodramatic for my tastes.
I am sure Mary Renault has written far better novels than this, and I do aim to read more of her works.
January 19, 2025
Fun and romantic nicknames to call your significant other, who you met climbing a mountain two days ago: "my dear child", "you crazy little idiot", "stupid", "you little fool". These are sure to convince any woman that you will make a really good husband.
This book was bad in a really compelling way. Usually, if I'm going to rate a book 2 stars or less I will just quit reading it, but I couldn't not finish this book. It was like watching a train wreck. Fascinating. If you have made it to the Goodreads page of this Mary Renault book that is so obscure that it's not even connected to her Goodreads author page, you definitely have to read it now. You may not enjoy it, but it will be an interesting read.
I may have chosen to listen to this one because it was the first one I tried where the Audible preview didn't start with a foreword of someone talking about how great the book is. In hindsight, this makes a lot of sense because no one would write about how great this book is, because it sucks. Also, I want to note that I read this because I am currently reading the Charioteer, but I can only read the Charioteer for the first time once, so I listened to this audiobook in order to save the Charioteer "For Later". Because clearly, reading the Worst One to postpone reading the Best One is the move.
The first part of this book is actually really good, because Mary (we are on a first name basis now) introduces the two best characters first: Miss Fisher and Miss Searle. Miss Fisher is a Modern Woman and slightly racy (you can tell because she wears nylon stockings and shows off her ankles when Neil shows up) and Miss Searle is a Traditional Modest Woman (you can tell because she wears woolen stockings and tucks in her ankles). Everything they do is incredible and the worst thing about the book is that it is not entirely about them. At one point Miss Fisher acquires a date in line at the cinema (of course she does), and a better book would have pivoted to give me a play by play of her date and forgotten about stupid Neil and other Neil.
Sadly, the book seems to care about Neil, and at around the 35% mark Neil finally meets Ellen. :( After that the book kind of falls apart because I hate them both, but primarily Neil because he has exactly zero good qualities. Ellen has one good quality, and it's that she likes Miss Fisher and Miss Searle. You can tell that Neil is the worst person in the world because he treats them like shit and can never be bothered to learn their names.
For reference, here are my thoughts on the book before it became about the Neils:
I would also like to note that Neil's Terrible Wife is already pregnant with the American Soldier's baby at the time she lights the current baby on fire, and American Soldier wants to keep the baby?? Did he not see what she did with the last one? Ellen's Trauma is equally insane.
At the end of the book Ellen tells Neil that she understands why his wife left him (relatable- I too would light Neil's baby on fire) and Neil falls off a mountain (yay!). Sadly, he fails to die and goes back to be an asshole to Miss Fisher. I'm sure some other stuff happened but it involved only Neil and Ellen so I don't care. I have never wished more for a Romeo and Juliet ending to a book.
I know that this plot sounds bad, and it is, but I would like to note that this is a Mary Renault book, so the writing was beautiful and there were some absolutely banger pieces of writing in this. The part where and Ellen and other Ellen's first kiss, which was absolutely wasted on such a terrible couple, were incredible. If it's not clear by now, I did not think that this was a good book but I kind of loved it.
What I learned from reading The North Face: Do not marry the worst man in the world that you met this week. Do not climb the mountain. Be a spinster.
This book was bad in a really compelling way. Usually, if I'm going to rate a book 2 stars or less I will just quit reading it, but I couldn't not finish this book. It was like watching a train wreck. Fascinating. If you have made it to the Goodreads page of this Mary Renault book that is so obscure that it's not even connected to her Goodreads author page, you definitely have to read it now. You may not enjoy it, but it will be an interesting read.
I may have chosen to listen to this one because it was the first one I tried where the Audible preview didn't start with a foreword of someone talking about how great the book is. In hindsight, this makes a lot of sense because no one would write about how great this book is, because it sucks. Also, I want to note that I read this because I am currently reading the Charioteer, but I can only read the Charioteer for the first time once, so I listened to this audiobook in order to save the Charioteer "For Later". Because clearly, reading the Worst One to postpone reading the Best One is the move.
The first part of this book is actually really good, because Mary (we are on a first name basis now) introduces the two best characters first: Miss Fisher and Miss Searle. Miss Fisher is a Modern Woman and slightly racy (you can tell because she wears nylon stockings and shows off her ankles when Neil shows up) and Miss Searle is a Traditional Modest Woman (you can tell because she wears woolen stockings and tucks in her ankles). Everything they do is incredible and the worst thing about the book is that it is not entirely about them. At one point Miss Fisher acquires a date in line at the cinema (of course she does), and a better book would have pivoted to give me a play by play of her date and forgotten about stupid Neil and other Neil.
Sadly, the book seems to care about Neil, and at around the 35% mark Neil finally meets Ellen. :( After that the book kind of falls apart because I hate them both, but primarily Neil because he has exactly zero good qualities. Ellen has one good quality, and it's that she likes Miss Fisher and Miss Searle. You can tell that Neil is the worst person in the world because he treats them like shit and can never be bothered to learn their names.
For reference, here are my thoughts on the book before it became about the Neils:
31% I thought this was supposed to be Mary Renault's worst one?? This is incredible [in an insane way]. Neil has Trauma, but the trauma is his Terrible Wife who slept with all the American soldiers and then was such a Bad Mom that she lit the baby on fire (while she was hooking up an American soldier, do you see?) Like, if she had been a normal Bad Mom Terrible Wife I would probably have hated it, but it's so off the wall bonkers that I've been cracking up about it all day. I thought it was a bit odd in the Charioteer when Laurie was invited to a birthday party and by the end of the party but apparently that was a feature of a Mary Renault novel, not a bug.
Anyways, he's staying in the Gothic Tower at a boarding house vacation home with two middle aged spinsters- Miss Prude and Miss Ho, who the book is spending a considerable time roasting for their prudish/racy ways. Miss Prude is very clearly Me, so I keep going "oh damn, that's me" and then the book immediately roasts me about it.
I would also like to note that Neil's Terrible Wife is already pregnant with the American Soldier's baby at the time she lights the current baby on fire, and American Soldier wants to keep the baby?? Did he not see what she did with the last one? Ellen's Trauma is equally insane.
At the end of the book Ellen tells Neil that she understands why his wife left him (relatable- I too would light Neil's baby on fire) and Neil falls off a mountain (yay!). Sadly, he fails to die and goes back to be an asshole to Miss Fisher. I'm sure some other stuff happened but it involved only Neil and Ellen so I don't care. I have never wished more for a Romeo and Juliet ending to a book.
I know that this plot sounds bad, and it is, but I would like to note that this is a Mary Renault book, so the writing was beautiful and there were some absolutely banger pieces of writing in this. The part where and Ellen and other Ellen's first kiss, which was absolutely wasted on such a terrible couple, were incredible. If it's not clear by now, I did not think that this was a good book but I kind of loved it.
What I learned from reading The North Face: Do not marry the worst man in the world that you met this week. Do not climb the mountain. Be a spinster.
August 11, 2023
This book probably makes sense within a genre, whatever that was. What a depressing view of women's choices in post-war Britain! Regarding the title: there are two climbing scenes, at the beginning and the end. The story begins with the climber and only male character Neil appearing at a holiday cottage on the English southwest coast, September 1945. There is a sense of a story setting up for catastrophe, Patricia Highsmith style, with two women holiday guests observing his every move with great interest. They are both single, approaching middle age, and starved for love, with the one modern and vulgar and the other genteel and prudish.
Neil returned from the war to find his young wife had become promiscuous and irresponsible. Their small child sets herself on fire and dies horribly while the wife is in bed with an American soldier. He starts divorce proceedings and goes on walks, one day saving the third female guest Ellen from a dangerous climb. Within a week of meeting the shy, awkward, young and girlish Ellen he wants to marry her. She hints at some dark reason why she can't, having to do with her fiancé who was killed in the war. She finally confesses that she was not able to force herself to have sex with her fiancé, which must have led to his being killed in battle. Neil explains to her that the fiancé must have seemed taboo to her, since he had been like a brother to her all her life. Having been absolved of being a virgin and not wanting to have sex, she agrees to marry him. His divorce papers have just come through, and the book ends with them laughingly discussing having the two spinsters as their witnesses at the wedding.
I think this book turned out differently than planned and it's hardly worthy of the author, who probably just had to finish it somehow. But wow, Neil doesn't even bother to tell his bride about the traumatic loss of his family just a few months previously; he barely even mentions that he's getting divorced and lost his child.
It makes me shudder to think of living in the world depicted here, where all women are on the verge of becoming monsters because they are desperate for men and hopeless without them. I imagine at this time and place, right after the war, there was anxiety over a scarcity of marriageable men and a perceived over supply of unmarried women. There was a feeling of a need for order and rules amid all the chaos of mass destruction and the revelation of human evil, which I suppose explains the falling back on strict gender roles and Victorian social behavior.
I am not able to think of any positive portrayals of women in Mary Renault's books...
Neil returned from the war to find his young wife had become promiscuous and irresponsible. Their small child sets herself on fire and dies horribly while the wife is in bed with an American soldier. He starts divorce proceedings and goes on walks, one day saving the third female guest Ellen from a dangerous climb. Within a week of meeting the shy, awkward, young and girlish Ellen he wants to marry her. She hints at some dark reason why she can't, having to do with her fiancé who was killed in the war. She finally confesses that she was not able to force herself to have sex with her fiancé, which must have led to his being killed in battle. Neil explains to her that the fiancé must have seemed taboo to her, since he had been like a brother to her all her life. Having been absolved of being a virgin and not wanting to have sex, she agrees to marry him. His divorce papers have just come through, and the book ends with them laughingly discussing having the two spinsters as their witnesses at the wedding.
I think this book turned out differently than planned and it's hardly worthy of the author, who probably just had to finish it somehow. But wow, Neil doesn't even bother to tell his bride about the traumatic loss of his family just a few months previously; he barely even mentions that he's getting divorced and lost his child.
It makes me shudder to think of living in the world depicted here, where all women are on the verge of becoming monsters because they are desperate for men and hopeless without them. I imagine at this time and place, right after the war, there was anxiety over a scarcity of marriageable men and a perceived over supply of unmarried women. There was a feeling of a need for order and rules amid all the chaos of mass destruction and the revelation of human evil, which I suppose explains the falling back on strict gender roles and Victorian social behavior.
I am not able to think of any positive portrayals of women in Mary Renault's books...
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 8, 2018
I have been a fan of this author for over 35 years, at least, for the Greek an Roman historic fiction. It was useful to know her biography while reading this book because she did incorporate parts of her own past having been in nurse in WW II. It was also interesting reading the phrases used during my Grandparents generation in an alternative (to American) culture. It was somewhat frightening to think that every word spoken, every movement and the way one dressed was critically judged by all those around you in this book. Had I viewed reality this way I probably would never have left my bedroom. Terrible.
October 13, 2026
I am familiar with some of Mary Renault’s historical fiction. This is a romance about two people suffering from loss. Just after World War II, these two people who have a passion for mountain climbing, these two flawed people, meet. Romance novels are just not my genre, even when written by legends.
August 7, 2012
Mi conclusión tras la lectura de "Ladera Norte" es que prefiero a Mary Renault en su vertiente histórica... de ese género leí unas cuántas suyas hace tiempo, y a pesar de eso (del tiempo transcurrido) guardo muy buen recuerdo, aunque no recordaría el título de cada libro así me mates :P Algo sobre Creta (¿o era Minos?) y los danzarines de toros...
Respecto a esta novela contemporánea (y no hay que olvidar que fue escrita en 1948), lo cierto es que el lenguaje excesivamente poético y refinado no anima demasiado a la lectura en más de una ocasión. La historia de dos personajes atormentados y su encuentro es, como mucho, agradable, pero no especialmente cautivadora o atractiva.
Respecto a esta novela contemporánea (y no hay que olvidar que fue escrita en 1948), lo cierto es que el lenguaje excesivamente poético y refinado no anima demasiado a la lectura en más de una ocasión. La historia de dos personajes atormentados y su encuentro es, como mucho, agradable, pero no especialmente cautivadora o atractiva.
April 1, 2014
“—Las desgracias siempre suceden en grupos de tres.
—La falla, querida Brutus,no es de nuestras estrellas.”
January 28, 2013
re-read 11/4/14; re-read again 11/18/16
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