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Totes Meer
One of the most unusual and erudite works of fiction to have emerged from Wales in recent years, this is an eloquent and lapidary meditation on the roots of art, language, and the aging process. Divided into four narratives--"A Rabbit"; "Letter to a Dog"; "In Chrysalis"; and "Slug Heaven"--this is a modern fable for modern times. It follows the stoical protagonists from childhood to old age, while examining the simultaneous maturation of their artistic and political vision. Vaughan's is a mature yet playful voice, full of pathos, and driven by an uncompromising faith in the redemptive powers of art.
150 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2003
11 people want to read
About the author
Dai Vaughan
18 booksDai Vaughan was known as an innovative documentary filmmaker and latterly as a novelist and poet.
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
April 3, 2024
Totes Meer is a novel of four parts: a youth pays a miserable visit to relatives in Wales; a dying man writes a self-exculpatory letter to his dead dog; a schoolgirl ponders the unknown secrets of the adult world; and a woman artist retreats to a Welsh cottage to try to capture the spirit of a female terrorist in clay.
The title Totes Meer comes from a painting by war artist Paul Nash which transforms the moonlit wreckage of Nazi bombers into the image of a dead and frozen sea. Dai Vaughan saw the painting as a child and encountered it again at the Tate Modern, giving him “the startling experience of temporal elision, of the bridging of the ineradicable years, of the shocking superimposition of youth upon age.”
Maybe that’s the theme of the novel, but if so it’s not an easy thread to discern. Neal Ascherson, who considers Dai Vaughan to be “one of the most imperiously intelligent fiction-writers” of our time, suggests that “the reader soon grows aware of the subtle skill which gathers [the separate voices] all into elements of a single composition.” If so, I have to confess that it is all too subtle for me – and the connecting theme, if such exists, is either equally subtle or so vague (fears and frustrations of youth and age?) as to be scarcely worth noting. The writing is lucid, assured, and unremarkable. One feels that one is in the hands of a skilful writer - but the hands seem to be twiddling their thumbs. Am I missing something? Quite possibly. But to me, Totes Meer reads like four rambling, rather dispiriting short stories – and not much more.
The title Totes Meer comes from a painting by war artist Paul Nash which transforms the moonlit wreckage of Nazi bombers into the image of a dead and frozen sea. Dai Vaughan saw the painting as a child and encountered it again at the Tate Modern, giving him “the startling experience of temporal elision, of the bridging of the ineradicable years, of the shocking superimposition of youth upon age.”
Maybe that’s the theme of the novel, but if so it’s not an easy thread to discern. Neal Ascherson, who considers Dai Vaughan to be “one of the most imperiously intelligent fiction-writers” of our time, suggests that “the reader soon grows aware of the subtle skill which gathers [the separate voices] all into elements of a single composition.” If so, I have to confess that it is all too subtle for me – and the connecting theme, if such exists, is either equally subtle or so vague (fears and frustrations of youth and age?) as to be scarcely worth noting. The writing is lucid, assured, and unremarkable. One feels that one is in the hands of a skilful writer - but the hands seem to be twiddling their thumbs. Am I missing something? Quite possibly. But to me, Totes Meer reads like four rambling, rather dispiriting short stories – and not much more.
Displaying 1 of 1 review