Meet the hapless a man in his late '50s, he scrapes together a living in Paris by writing soft-core pornography under the saucy guise of "Nathalie Cray".
When his all-but-estranged sister tells him their father is on his deathbed, Jeremy reluctantly travels back to his parental home in the depths of the English countryside. Confronted with a life that he had always been eager to escape, his return marks the start of an emotionally fraught journey into the family's checkered past. The journey takes him back to the unexpected death of his mother in a provincial Greek hospital years earlier and, further back, to the moment at which the Eldritch family fell apart. It's a journey composed of revelations, of secrets disclosed and not disclosed, and of something that might, or might not, be reconciliation . . .
An atypical coming-of-age tale, Prodigal deftly reconsiders everything we think we know about the nature of trust, death, and what we do to each other in the name of love.
Charles Lambert was born in the United Kingdom but has lived in Italy for most of his adult life. His most recent novel is Birthright, set in Rome in the 1980s and examining what happens when two young women discover that they are identical twins, separated at birth. In 2022, he published The Bone Flower, a Gothic love story with a sinister edge, set in Victorian London. His previous novel, Prodigal, shortlisted for the Polari Prize in 2019, was described by the Gay & Lesbian Review as "Powerful… an artful hybrid of parable (as the title signifies), a Freudian family romance, a Gothic tale, and a Künstlerroman in the tradition of James Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.” For the Kirkus Review, The Children's Home, published in 2016, was 'a one-of-a-kind literary horror story', while Two Dark Tales, published in October 2017, continues to disturb. Earlier books include three novels, a collection of prize-winning short stories and a memoir, With a Zero at its Heart, selected by the Guardian as one of its top ten books from 2014.
Charles Lambert is a master of inner angst. Prodigal, as many of Lambert’s books does, gives us raw, honest inner voices. His characters are deeply conflicted. Their perspectives are inconsistent. They rarely come to meaningful personal insights and often seem ambivalent. Their actions don’t always match their intentions. Lambert gives us flawed humanity on a fork.
Prodigal follows the story of a brother (Jeremy) and sister (Rachel) experiencing the death of their mother and then subsequently their father. Rachel also goes through a divorce, while Jeremy embraces his sexuality more openly than he could when he lived at home. The brother was closer to his mother although after her death he ended up feeling that he hardly ever understood her. The sister, by contrast, was relatively hostile to their mother, and much closer to her father. Yet after his death, we realize that Rachel’s understanding of him was deeply flawed and inaccurate. She lived with many illusions and never really comes to see that. Jeremy and Rachel didn’t get along either, but after both deaths they finally and tentatively reach a modest accord. Overall, Prodigal reveals the many ways that families can be broken and fail to live up to the connection, support and comfort that they should provide.
Both the brother and sister can be rather frustrating personalities. They both spend much of their lives struggling to connect with others and making poor relationship decisions. We see how the closed nature of both of their parents, their damaged relationship and their subsequent divorce inflicted damage on both of them. The brother often acts like a petulant child who can’t seem to prevent himself from drooling over handsome men like an adolescent. The sister is incredibly naïve and conservative in her thought processes, for example, feeling quite uncomfortable with her brother’s sexuality. It’s a bit of a shock to be thrown into a social world where homosexuality is seen as shameful or embarrassing and one can see how the brother grew up with neuroses given a lack of family support for his identity. Having to hide or suppress who you are can cause other discomfiting behaviors to bubble up in the self, almost as self-flagellation. If the people you care about aren’t comfortable with you, you have to fight to achieve comfort in yourself, and for many people that’s not easy.
Lambert shows us our all-to-human flaws and how difficult it is for us to connect and truly understand each other.
Prodigal, by Charles Lambert, tells the story of the Eldritch family, the secrets and resentments that led to the adult children’s estrangement. It opens when Jeremy, the younger of the siblings, is in his fifties. He is living in a tiny apartment in Paris, making a meagre living writing erotic fiction under a pseudonym. He receives a call from his sister, Rachel, telling him that their father is dying. Somewhat reluctantly he returns to the family home in Kent.
Jeremy has been living in Paris since soon after his graduation, a move arranged by his mother for reasons to be revealed. Rachel stayed with their father, although soon married Denny and set up a stables business assisted by the family wealth. Denny left her a decade ago in the company of an employee. Rachel has been nursing her father through his final bout of ill health, yet another task she feels her brother should be showing greater appreciation of. Now that he has returned she wishes him to assist, yet grows jealous when anyone suggests that his actions are in any way generous.
The family history is presented in four parts. These cover: Jeremy’s return (2012); the period around their mother’s final days in Greece (1985); the weeks leading up to Jeremy’s departure (1977); their father’s death (2012). The reader learns that neither parent behaved with grace. Each also had their obvious favourites in their offspring. The atmosphere in the family home was toxic with violent undercurrents.
Rachel regards Jeremy as wilfully degenerate due to his preference for men and his occupation. She is bitter and angry that her family have not conformed to her desired way of living. Jeremy has largely avoided thinking about his family since he was encouraged to move away. He has had to cope with the tragedy of lost lovers and the knowledge that his writing is regarded by many with derision. The few times he and Rachel have got together over the years highlighted their differences and ended in acrimony.
The author is a skilled wordsmith, fully engaging the reader whilst revealing the family’s history from each of the key players points of view. There is empathy but also recognition that these are flawed individuals, that ripples are created when indulging in prodigal behaviour. Family members have the ability to hurt each other so much more deeply than other acquaintances.
A tale that will resonate with any whose family does not conform to their personal ideal. An alluring and satisfying read.
Prodigal, Charles Lambert’s fifth novel, focuses on the Eldritch family and explores the resentments and secrets that are the cause of the estrangement between the family members. The novel opens with Jeremy, the youngest sibling, now in his fifties, living in Paris and scraping a living by writing soft-core pornography under a pseudonym. When his sister phones to inform him that their father is on his deathbed, Jeremy reluctantly returns to the family home in rural England. Jeremy and Rachael have never been close and time and absence hasn’t improved things, so living together while waiting for their father’s inevitable death proves trying in the extreme.
The story then shifts back in time to give the reader some understanding of the nature of the siblings’ early relationship and their repeated and doomed attempts to connect with their parents; we discover the underlying causes of the parents’ toxic marriage and we follow the events leading up to Jeremy’s departure for Paris shortly after graduation; we learn about Rachael’s ill-fated marriage to the horrific Denny and we are allowed to witness Rachael and Jeremy’s visit to Greece to see their mother on her deathbed, a visit that delivers some unwelcome surprises for both.
The novel is set largely in the family home, a large sprawling country house in southern England and Lambert manages to convey the stultifying atmosphere of the place, which contrasts interestingly with the later sections set in the house in Greece. The contrast between the gloomy boxed-in English house and the sun-filled open spaces of the house in Greece is clearly symbolic, showing the reader how the mother has finally escaped and found an honest and open relationship.
Lambert is undoubtedly a very skilled writer and the reader is immediately engaged and drawn into this family’s world. The characters’ inner voices are honest to the point of being, at times, shocking and the author’s depiction of sibling discord certainly rings true, but the reader is left with a very bleak view of family relationships and humanity in general. There really aren’t any likeable characters in Prodigal – just degrees of loathsomeness. The two central characters – Jeremy and Rachael are both deeply unattractive; self-centred, self-pitying and filled with resentment. Prejudice is rampant throughout the novel, with numerous characters seeming to vie as to who can produce the most homophobic comments and the reader is also uncomfortably aware of the secrets that underlie the damaged relationships, secrets that mask hidden horrors, hinted at but never completely revealed.
Prodigal is largely a disquieting read, but, ultimately, I think saved because of the quality of the writing and by the touches of black humour that lift the mood. Some of the characters, most notably Denny, are so appalling they actually make you laugh and there are wonderful, brilliantly described scenes worthy of the best scatological humour, such as the scene in Greece when Rachael falls foul of a dodgy stomach.
The thing I like most about good literary fiction is that by the time you finish the book you have delved into the lives of three dimensional human beings who unfold and bloom like flowers....even when they are steeped in angst and dysfunction, death and disappointment. I loved these characters, brother and sister, parents and all the tentacles of the other people wound around them. There were places like the assault on the brother, and the 'barn dance' of the sister where I had to stop reading to take a breath, so incredibly real, deep and touching that I had held it. Lovely work. Detailed, deliberate, and a bit difficult in its real life honesty.
This novel is a marked change from Lambert's recent horror tales - a genre he brings his own special edge to. It's a wonderful black comedy about family relationships, love, death, memories etc. There are moments that appal, shock, amuse, surprise and at times feel genuinely heartfelt. He is a writer that can surprise the reader which is one of the reasons that I highly recommend him and his novels. The five star rating I've given is well deserved and I definitely think Prodigal should be added to your reading list.
"Prodigal" by Charles Lambert is a compelling read with a lot of things to unpack, including taking care of someone who might not deserve this devotion. Jeremy is a writer who lives in Paris. He writes under a pseudonym, is gay, and hasn't seen his family in decades. Rachel is his sister that lives in the English countryside. She has always been their father's favorite, ran his company, had a jerk for a husband, and takes care of her aging father. The book begins with Rachel calling Jeremy to say that their father is dying and that he must come home to see him. He reluctantly makes the journey. At a point in this family's life, they were torn apart. Really, Jeremy and Rachel neither one knows the real truth behind the reason, and they both have a very distorted point of view toward each parent and each other. They have horrible communication skills. Throw in the fact that Jeremy is gay and Rachel's now ex-husband was controlling and mentally abusive, and you have so many things to dig into. It doesn't end all wrapped up in a bow, which is nice, but you can see the growth in the characters. Read this to see the complexities of a family's life that is full of secrets.
Beautifully written. A novel that will take you to the very heart and soul of the characters with a skillful exploration of human feelings: grief, love, hate and forgiveness. A must read.
Prodigal is a story about love, loss and relationships, that is very character driven and is told from a number of points of view. All the characters are flawed and can be considered unreliable narrators, due to their self-absorbed and egocentric personalities but this does add to the honest and raw account of family conflict. The author captures the frustration and disappointment felt within this dysfunctional family and how the secrets they keep impacts their relationships with each other.
Having said all of that, for me, it missed the mark and I was left frustrated with that lack of plot and activity. It genuinely felt like nothing was happening and I struggled to see the point of the story. Added to that, none of the characters were likeable and the story jumped around (from a timeline perspective) too much for my liking.
Overall not one I particularly enjoyed, although there were moments that I thought were poignant and insightful. I appear to be in the minority in my opinion though so if you like the sound of the synopsis, I’d say give it a go, it might be for you!
2.5 ⭐️⭐️💫 (rounded up to 3)
Thank you to the publisher (Gallic Books) for providing a copy {Gifted}. All opinions are my own and provided willingly.
I think I've read most of the books written by Charles Lambert whom I've had the pleasure of meeting (we both live in Italy) and the amazing thing is that each one is different from the others, in content, style and even in form. His latest, Prodigal, is the story of a substantially unhappy middle-aged homosexual Englishman who has taken refuge in Paris from his substantially unhappy (and dysfunctional) family and who has been supporting himself by writing pornographic novels. Jeremy returns home (with mixed feelings) to help care for his ailing elderly father, largely the cause of the family's spiritual and psychological families. The extended family is made up of an odd collection of characters - each one skillfully depicted but not very likeable and the interaction between brother and sister was downright upsetting. I couldn't put the book down, which says a lot for the author's skill, but I came away feeling a bit blue.
The thing I like most about good literary fiction is that by the time you finish the book you have delved into the lives of three dimensional human beings who unfold and bloom like flowers....even when they are steeped in angst and dysfunction, death and disappointment. I loved these characters, brother and sister, parents and all the tentacles of the other people wound around them. There were places like the assault on the brother, and the 'barn dance' of the sister where I had to stop reading to take a breath, so incredibly real, deep and touching that I had held it. Lovely work. Detailed, deliberate, and a bit difficult in its real life honesty.
Prodigal lives up to its double title, as the gay late-50s son returns from France to his father's deathbed in Whitstable, both as a prodigal son, and as a human reflecting on all he has lost. I read this for a book group, and read around Lambert - and it is clear that this book was partly autobiographical and intensely personal, as well as typifying the portraits of toxic white middle-class relationships that people his fictions.
You quite possibly won't like Jeremy (the ostensible protagonist), his buttoned-up sister Rachel, their parents or anyone else in this book, but I did find myself recognising myself in their awfulness. My favourite books (William Golding being a good exponent) often make me uncomfortable by aligning me as a reader with the bad habits or more thorough nastiness of characters. So it was with Jeremy's lashing out, the burning of letters and books to erase harm from memory, and the failure to try quite enough to understand those who are meant to be closest. It's not necessarily written in parable, despite the title, yet it covertly deals shock tactics to the less than pure-white among its readers.
Unsettling, 'Prodigal' kept me turning the pages and makes it clear that neither Greece, Paris nor the imaginative world of fictions can truly provide an escape from our worst selves.