Bea Setton’s intelligent, keenly-observed, debut novel has been getting a lot of positive, media attention. On the surface that’s surprising since she seems to be treading all-too-familiar ground with her central character, a disaffected woman in her mid-twenties frantically trying to make sense of her crumbling life. But, Setton’s skilful, inventive treatment of her material made this unexpectedly gripping.
Berlin’s a first-person narrative voiced by Daphne, whose background overlaps with Setton’s own. Born in France, with a background in philosophy, Daphne’s moved to Germany, ostensibly to reinvent herself. She’s an openly-unreliable narrator, a curious blend of self-deprecating and annoyingly self-congratulatory, drifting through her days shored up by financial support from her wealthy family. Daphne sublets an apartment in a bohemian quarter of Berlin, and at first her prospects seem promising, then a series of ominous events start to shift her off-track. It’s not immediately clear if the source of these events is linked to the kind of threat many women will recognise: harassment on the street; a stalkerish ex; a disturbing, male neighbour who seems a little too interested. Or whether Daphne, like Deneuve’s character in Repulsion, is having difficulty negotiating the boundaries between fantasy and reality.
Despite the minimal plot, Setton managed to hold my attention throughout: partly because Daphne’s such an intriguing figure; and partly because Setton’s so good at conveying a sense of unease and growing uncertainty about where Daphne’s journey might lead. Admittedly, Daphne’s oddly formal register grates at times but it can be oddly seductive, balanced out by vivid imagery, elegant turns of phrase and sudden, biting humour. Adept too with dry, ironic, observations, Daphne offers up a fascinating, outsider perspective on Berlin, its culture, history, and landscapes.
Daphne can be a fairly sympathetic figure but she’s also an intensely irritating one. She’s incredibly self-conscious and overly analytical – even adding footnotes to comment on her own story. She has a tendency to filter her experiences through an awkward, idiosyncratic mix of popular culture, literature and philosophy - she views her relationships with men as equivalent to Estella tormenting Pip in Great Expectations, and constantly references authors from Dickens to Mann to Woolf and Plath.
Setton’s portrayal of Daphne, the setting, the smattering of explicit references to Kafka and concepts of dread, as well as philosophers like Heidegger, made me think that Setton’s consciously drawing on elements of an earlier, literary tradition here; producing a contemporary, subversive take on the wealth of nineteenth-century and fin-de-siècle literature devoted to male, existential angst.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Doubleday for an ARC
Rating: 3.5