What do you think?
Rate this book


447 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
A Whistling Woman and a Crowing Hen---- A frequent saying of my maternal grandmother
is neither good for God nor men.
"An audience is one, and many, it is moved separately and together."

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b007jsrf
Frederica resigns but makes a living by reviewing. Edmund has an idea for a heavier television programme. Stars James Callis.
Frederica has doubts about her television career and her brother, Marcus, makes a shocking discovery. Stars Karl Prekopp.
Frederica reignites an old flame, John, and her new TV series starts. Marcus finds a damsel in distress. Stars Richard Coyle.
Daniel has difficulty communicating with Will, and Lucy joins a disreputable religious commune. Stars Shaun Dooley.
The religious community in Yorkshire becomes cult-like under the influence of its charismatic leader. Stars Ben Thomas.
Protesters disrupt the prestigious conference at the Yorkshire university where Luke is speaking. Stars Peter Marinker.
Alexander hosts a play to raise cash for repairs and a fire at the farm has dire consequences. Stars Indira Varma.What is important, she thought, is to defend reason against unreason.
... to read all four of these novels so close to each other. I read all four within, I think nine months. Which sounds like a long time, but I have to say that I got a bit overblown with the density of Byatt's writing by about half way through this last one. For it is, once, again, a complex novel, and this time I didn't really feel that the plot was riveting – or cohesive – enough to maintain my patience with Byatt's exploration of what are sometimes pretty oblique (and very disparate) ideas. Tangents are all very well, and I can tolerate them up to a point (especially when I can understand, grasp them (which is not always the case, especially the biological and mathematical strands here), but when they last so long that for chapters on end we don't see Frederica (whom I really like), or when the plot is revealed through obscure letters... And that's how it was with this one. I wanted to hear less about snail shell patterns and Charles Manson-type cults narrated to me via letters written by someone whose role and name I had missed (there are a lot of them!). Either they have been hidden from me by a combination of (in my view) far too many plots going on, or (I admit) my memory and patience levels are perhaps not what they ought (and used) to be. Either way, my reading is spoiled when I am not treated to more of the main plot concerning Frederica, her life and loves. And what was the Peacock–Jacqueline thing? That was where I wanted to see Frederica and the Ottokar twins!!
Which isn't to say that there aren't some beautiful truths (observations) in the mass of plot that Byatt creates. Take this, for example:
'All human beings tell their life stories to themselves, selecting and reinforcing certain memories, casing others into oblivion. All human beings are interested in causation. Because I had a good Latin teacher, ... , I became a theologian, and because I chose Latin, I put aside the sciences of earth, flesh and space. All human beings are interested in pure coincidence, which can act in a life as surely as causation, and appear to resemble that, as though both were equally the effects of a divine putting-on.'
But then, later in the same paragraph, there comes this, which I find rather too sonorous:
A man ... who has found himself tumbling in the dark sea outside the terrible transparent mirror of the fragile window pane, persists perhaps by linking moments of conscious survival into a fine suspension-bridge of a personal destiny, a narrow path of constructed light, arching out over the bulging and boiling.
That's just too much for me. And when you think that she's kind of trying to define a man's consciousness, in a similar way to how the University of Yorkshire is trying to come up with an all-round, all encompassing education system, it's all a bit much – unless, of course, by burning the place down later in the novel, she is saying that these are pointless, vainglorious, Icarus-like attempts to understand everything.
I just think that the novel loses its way a bit – though I am prepared to admit that my levels of concentration weren't always up to it – which they might have been if I hadn't been so bent on completing the quartet.
There are more down-to-earth discussions, about Leo's dyslexia, for example, and how a phonic approach to reading and rote learning ought to be the solution. (I think that Byatt is ruing the trend in teaching to abandon the rote learning of letters (alphabet) and numbers (multiplication tables) because they are 'boring' – her counter-argument to this being that the acquisition of knowledge will always be enough to motivate learning. I'm guessing that she has never been a primary school teacher – sometimes her prism is pretty elitist – and arguably pretty naive)...
So although I think that for me the book ultimately fails, I'm still left gasping for breath at the end, full of admiration for this writer. Perhaps a more apt metaphor for me is of a meal. Byatt has served up lots of delicious food. She is a cook that knows her craft and has access to top quality ingredients that, with the right blend and skill (practice), will make sumptuous dishes. It's just that sometimes when you get to the dessert, which this book perhaps is, you find that you are already full and a rich, complicated trifle with so many different ingredients that the tastes get all mixed up with each other is, rather perplexingly, not as satisfying as, I don't know, maybe just a wholesome, simple piece of fruit.
But A.S. Byatt has cooked plenty of other meals. I suspect that this one was more for herself than for her readers (which I think is totally OK – you can't please all of the people all of the time anyway). The one for her readers (and the one designed to out-do her sister, I suspect), remains "Possession", which I absolutely loved, though I can see, now that I have read this quartet, that for this deeply intellectual novelist, that that book is riddled with compromises – she wanted a big seller, and was determined to show everyone that she could write one. Just, possibly, not entirely on her own terms. Which might be bothering her a little.
The quartet is an ambitious, arching cathedral of work. The result of four decades of the author's observations, thoughts and research – above all, research. The life of the mind, condensed into four novels. A panoply of characters, a compendium of plots. From two sisters and their family (you have to think of Lawrence's "The Rainbow" and its sequel, "Women in Love", which I must re-read), to Cambridge intellectuals, northern scientists, schizophrenic visionaries (prophets), mathematical geniuses, literary geniuses, teachers, television personalities, judges, divorce lawyers, mean husbands, desperately kind husbands, ... an almost endless list of people who represent many, many interests and levels of British society in the second half of the 20th Century.
I just searched "The Rainbow" online and found its closing sentence. It’s pretty impressive:
She saw in the rainbow the earth's new architecture, the old, brittle corruption of houses and factories swept away, the world built up in a living fabric of Truth, fitting to the over-arching heaven.
I think that Byatt maybe shared that vision, and that this impressive, awe-inspiring quartet of novels is perhaps, amongst many other things, her contribution to that.
Vivid, clear colours of experience and of intellectual disciplines forming an all-unifying arch of beauty, understanding and reconciliation.
The quartet is a brave and impressive achievement. And, above all, an optimistic one. Bravo!