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According to Queeney
Bainbridge's brilliantly imagined, universally acclaimed, Booker Prize-longlisted novel portrays the inordinate appetites and unrequited love touched off when the most celebrated man of eighteenth-century English letters, Samuel Johnson, enters the domain of a wealthy Southwark brewer and his wife, Hester Thrale. The melancholic, middle-aged lexicographer plunges into an increasingly ambiguous relationship with the vivacious Mrs. Thrale for the next twenty years. In that time Hester's eldest daughter, the neglected but prodigiously clever Queeney, will grow into young womanhood. Along the way, little of the emotional tangle and sexual tension stirring beneath the decorous surfaces of the Thrale household will escape Queeney's cold, observant eye.
224 pages, Paperback
First published July 16, 2001
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About the author
Beryl Bainbridge
57 books182 followersDame Beryl Margaret Bainbridge DBE was an English writer from Liverpool. She was primarily known for her works of psychological fiction, often set among the English working classes. Bainbridge won the Whitbread Award twice and was nominated for the Booker Prize five times. In 2008, The Times newspaper named Bainbridge among their list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945".
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 97 reviews
May 26, 2019
Reading another three of Beryl Bainbridge's novels was one of the highlights of the recent Mookse Madness, and left me with a taste for more, particularly of her historical novels. I enjoyed this one a lot, an irreverent but well researched portrait of the later years of Dr Johnson, largely seen via the experiences of Queeney, his favourite and eldest daughter of his patrons Henry and Hester Thrale, at whose Streatham house Johnson spent much of the last 20 years of his life. So a portrait of the private man rather than the public figure Boswell made so well known.
The story is largely told by an omniscient narrator, with each chapter given a one word title, allowing Johnson's dictionary definitions to introduce each of them, and each is also followed by a letter written by Queeney in later life.
Bainbridge's wit ensures that nobody emerges entirely unscathed - Johnson is unpredictable and irascible, Hester Thrale is fickle and vain, and her husband Henry wastes his money and eventually kills himself by overeating, but the relationships between them are fairly convincing an three dimensional. So the whole thing is fun to read. I can't really comment on the historical accuracy, as I am not an expert on the period or the characters.
The story is largely told by an omniscient narrator, with each chapter given a one word title, allowing Johnson's dictionary definitions to introduce each of them, and each is also followed by a letter written by Queeney in later life.
Bainbridge's wit ensures that nobody emerges entirely unscathed - Johnson is unpredictable and irascible, Hester Thrale is fickle and vain, and her husband Henry wastes his money and eventually kills himself by overeating, but the relationships between them are fairly convincing an three dimensional. So the whole thing is fun to read. I can't really comment on the historical accuracy, as I am not an expert on the period or the characters.
October 3, 2016
As a fan of Beryl Bainbridge I have been uncertain of her forays into historical fiction- 'Every Man For Himself' (set on board the Titanic) and 'Young Adolf' (an account of Hitler's visit to Liverpool "before he was [in]famous") were lacking something intrinsically necessary- good stories told to their fullest. But 'According to Queeney,' with its focus on the last 20 years in the life of Dr Johnson, is sublime, and easily matches 'The Birthday Boys,' Bainbridge's storytelling of Captain Scott's disastrous attempt at reaching the Antarctic.
Dr Johnson, first writer of an English dictionary, is portrayed as spoilt and childish in spite of (perhaps, because of) his genius. Held in the thrall of a not-altogether reciprocated love for a married woman, Hester Thrale, it is this lady's daughter, the 'Queeney' of the title, who suggests, in her later-year letters (positioned at the end of each chapter), what actually took place. Often there are discrepancies between what we read and what Queeney suggests happened and there is a great deal to consider between the lines- a consideration of the unreliable nature of memory; the bias that any spectator or storyteller will find hard to nip in the bud when directly involved; and the difficulty truth faces when it deals with legends. We hear, for instance, that Johnson's biographer-to-be, Boswell, follows the good Doctor around as if bewitched. Certainly he is too loved-up to recognise any of Johnson's faults. A visit to the Dr's hometown, Lichfield, has its people regaling his guests with stories of a shared history- but the Doctor denies knowledge of ever knowing them. Fame is a distorting lens just as is memory, just as is love or hate. Every thing is a story.
As in other of her books ('The Dressmaker,' 'A Quiet Life,' 'An Awfully Big Adventure') Bainbridge's observations of the working classes are wry and delicious. There is such angst, such life, in the relations between Dr Johnson's servants, and wonderful moments of humour. As a former actress herself it was inevitable Bainbridge would also bring in the character of Johnson's childhood friend, famed actor David Garrick, alongside a whole cast of the notables of the day- Joshua Reynolds, for instance, and Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.
This was the last novel Bainbridge published before her death and is perhaps her best. But there are many great novels of hers out there and no doubt more for me to discover- a notion that feels me with delight. She is a great English writer of working class origins and seems to me unfairly forgotten. You could do yourself a favour by checking out her fiction. Start with this book, 'An Awfully Big Adventure' or 'The Birthday Boys.'
Dr Johnson, first writer of an English dictionary, is portrayed as spoilt and childish in spite of (perhaps, because of) his genius. Held in the thrall of a not-altogether reciprocated love for a married woman, Hester Thrale, it is this lady's daughter, the 'Queeney' of the title, who suggests, in her later-year letters (positioned at the end of each chapter), what actually took place. Often there are discrepancies between what we read and what Queeney suggests happened and there is a great deal to consider between the lines- a consideration of the unreliable nature of memory; the bias that any spectator or storyteller will find hard to nip in the bud when directly involved; and the difficulty truth faces when it deals with legends. We hear, for instance, that Johnson's biographer-to-be, Boswell, follows the good Doctor around as if bewitched. Certainly he is too loved-up to recognise any of Johnson's faults. A visit to the Dr's hometown, Lichfield, has its people regaling his guests with stories of a shared history- but the Doctor denies knowledge of ever knowing them. Fame is a distorting lens just as is memory, just as is love or hate. Every thing is a story.
As in other of her books ('The Dressmaker,' 'A Quiet Life,' 'An Awfully Big Adventure') Bainbridge's observations of the working classes are wry and delicious. There is such angst, such life, in the relations between Dr Johnson's servants, and wonderful moments of humour. As a former actress herself it was inevitable Bainbridge would also bring in the character of Johnson's childhood friend, famed actor David Garrick, alongside a whole cast of the notables of the day- Joshua Reynolds, for instance, and Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.
This was the last novel Bainbridge published before her death and is perhaps her best. But there are many great novels of hers out there and no doubt more for me to discover- a notion that feels me with delight. She is a great English writer of working class origins and seems to me unfairly forgotten. You could do yourself a favour by checking out her fiction. Start with this book, 'An Awfully Big Adventure' or 'The Birthday Boys.'
June 16, 2012
Ms Bainbridge did herself a disservice here by writing herself into redundancy. There is such an overload of names within the first two chapters, names that are not attached to any place, biography or relationship. Nevertheless they are off and running barely clothed as yet: a Mrs Williams questioning him (and no, we don't know who 'he' is yet) when he returns from the Thrales', then falling out with Mrs Desmoulins, taking a tumble and hurting her knee because Mr Levet, so she said, had left his bag of medical instruments at the foot of the stairs. Frank Barber swore that Levet couldn't be the culprit, on account of his coming in by the cellar door past one o'clock and falling face down on the scullery table. Oh, so not there in his capacity as a doctor then. So who are all these people, who seem to be living with Samuel Johnson in a kind of eighteenth century version of Men Behaving Badly? No idea. Wikipedia was a great help. Lovely long article about Samuel Johnson, told me all I wanted to know about the man, enticed me on to Thraliana, which I found even more fascinating and then left me wondering why I should bother to read this since it's not going to have the stringency of a rigorous biography, and actually Mrs Thrales' Table Talk looks the better option. (Not published until 1942!!)
But fiction can provide other pleasures than intellectual exactitude, so onward. I tried very hard not to be daunted by the next ten or twelve new names that rolled out in the second chapter. I've met Ms Bainbridge before, she likes the oblique approach. She'll fill in the background, a little patience is necessary, is all.
More patience than I could muster I'm afraid. Four considerable impediments to my enjoyment:
Far too many names that remained names, never came to life as real people, indeed sometimes I was left wondering why they had to be there. Johnson joins a Thrales family party travelling through France. Their circle of acquaintances grew as the weeks advanced, the Abbé Francois and the Benedictine Father Wilkes being worthy of mention. Why are they worthy of mention? I don't know. They never re-appear.
The point of view flits from character to character in a bit of a blur. I caught myself occasionally relaxing into Queeney's perspective, following her thoughts, but that didn't last. Abrupt and disorientating, the change would take you to Mrs Thrale, her mother, Johnson, Mrs Desmoulins, practically anywhere really, Fanny Burney at the end, whoever. The effect was that not one of them ever joined you on the sofa.
There's meant to be at the least a flirtation, maybe a teeny bit more between old Sam and Mrs T, but I'm afraid that Johnson comes over as so inept, churlish and curmudgeonly that he would be insufferable as a house guest, forget anything more intimate.
The style. I'm sorry, but it is dull dull dull. Listen to this passage:
The party dallied so long in Canterbury, admiring the beauties of the cathedral, that they arrived too late to catch the tide at Dover. Baretti, who had gone on ahead to oversee the crossing, was considerably put out and fell into a sulk. He became more agreeable after Thrale declared himself mightily pleased to have time to explore the fort and the castle. It's plain and lucid, no fancy stuff, but that's not the trouble. Those sentences all have the same falling rhythm. There's more, but I don't want to depress you.
Queeney's snide backchat with her insensitive mother was enjoyable, her letters to a persistent later biographer of Johnson were a burst of larksong on a grey day, the odd bit of banter and joking amongst the men raised a smile. See, I did find something.
I think I could match Johnson as a curmudgeon.
April 22, 2009
This is the second Beryl Bainbridge novel I've read, and I know I'll be reading many more. Because she writes in historical settings and, at least from what I've seen, about very English characters, one has to be willing not to have every detail and reference at hand while reading. One has to be willing to read up at least a little on the central characters (in this case, Samuel Johnson and Hester Thrale) or the central even (in Master Georgie, it was the Crimean War) to best appreciate the nuances of the story, though not to understand the story itself. Other writers might take two or three times as many words to tell the same story, but Bainbridge is careful and spare in her choice of words, making her unusual in the world of historical fiction. To my mind, it also makes her superior.
While the historical backdrop is important, but it merely provides the framework for what Bainbridge does most brilliantly, and that is to grant the reader multiple viewpoints on the same events through the eyes of several key characters. The result is that one comes away with a fuller understanding of the story than do any of the characters, while at the same time gaining insight into the pervasive effect of subjectivity in interpreting one's life. None of Bainbridge's characters, no matter how brilliant or how practical, escapes influence of their subjective interpretations of events. To some degree, even the reader is implicated, because the revelations of these varying interpretations come about by degrees, so we are spared a tedious omniscient narrator's view of the characters and events. Bainbridge's doubled and sometimes tripled views of events emerge slowly over the course of the novel, and the insights are all the more rewarding for the delay and the reliance on the reader's memory to fill in the gaps.
The plot of the book is much less important than the manner in which events unfold. In short, the novel covers primarily the twenty-year period in which Samuel Johnson was an intimate friend of Henry and Hester Thrale's. But as Bainbridge is a psychological novelist masquerading as a historical novelist, the real story takes place in the characters' relating to one another and revealing the passions, desires, and fears that drive them.
While the historical backdrop is important, but it merely provides the framework for what Bainbridge does most brilliantly, and that is to grant the reader multiple viewpoints on the same events through the eyes of several key characters. The result is that one comes away with a fuller understanding of the story than do any of the characters, while at the same time gaining insight into the pervasive effect of subjectivity in interpreting one's life. None of Bainbridge's characters, no matter how brilliant or how practical, escapes influence of their subjective interpretations of events. To some degree, even the reader is implicated, because the revelations of these varying interpretations come about by degrees, so we are spared a tedious omniscient narrator's view of the characters and events. Bainbridge's doubled and sometimes tripled views of events emerge slowly over the course of the novel, and the insights are all the more rewarding for the delay and the reliance on the reader's memory to fill in the gaps.
The plot of the book is much less important than the manner in which events unfold. In short, the novel covers primarily the twenty-year period in which Samuel Johnson was an intimate friend of Henry and Hester Thrale's. But as Bainbridge is a psychological novelist masquerading as a historical novelist, the real story takes place in the characters' relating to one another and revealing the passions, desires, and fears that drive them.
October 22, 2011
Samuel Johnson was a remarkable man in his time. The creator of the Johnson Dictionary, a precursor to the Oxford English version, the man was a critic, poet and intellectual, blessed with a robust constitution and yet plagued by the “black dog” of death and prone to jerky movement now put down to Tourette’s Syndrome.
This book covers the last twenty years of his life when the aging, dropsied and gout ridden giant of letters, failing in eyesight, begins to frequent the company of the wealthy Thrall family, and in particular, Mrs. Hester Thrall. Hester is also a woman of robust health, giving birth to 12 children, many who die young, and yet she possesses the vivacity and spirit to charm a coterie of writers, actors, musicians and artists who frequent the Thrall family home in Streatham. The most smitten is Johnson, whom she leaves heartbroken when she marries the musician Piozzi after Henry Thrall dies of stroke by gorging himself to death.
Given that James Boswell wrote the “mother of all biographies” on Johnson and covered this very period, I wondered why the author chose this topic. The title says this account is “according to Queenie”, the Thrall’s oldest daughter, who is a baby when Johnson first arrives and who helps put the record straight at the end of each chapter by correcting various biographical references of the more detailed Boswell. Perhaps this is the authoritative and objective “woman’s perspective” of the great man.
Nothing much happens in this book except that the reader is taken on a tour of the eccentric and idle lives of the privileged and their retinues: touring in France, listening to the political wrangling in Johnson’s household between his quarrelsome staff and permanent residents, or Johnson’s own his eruptions with Mrs. Thrall whom he needs as a constant audience for his brilliance, the cautious narrative references to there being more than a “friendly” relationship between Johnson and Hester while her husband is still alive, and the intellectual discourses at Streatham that range from the death pangs of scorpions to the benefits of onanism. The only antagonist here is Death, who comes suddenly and unexpectedly, at childbirth or at the onset of a mild cold.
We get rich glimpses into life in the 18th century: actors losing it and battling each other on stage, buggery in the French court while the Royal couple partake of their meals in front of a viewing gallery, children given tin pills for worms that make them sicker, and ladies going “behind the bushes” while on long carriage rides. The narrative voice is archaic and fits the period; matters sexual are only referenced indirectly and the action is referred to obliquely. Thank God for Queeney’s summing up that help fill in the holes.
Johnson, for all his greatness, is depicted as a rough and rude man with strong convictions, needing constant validation; he even sleeps with his wife’s maid while the former is dying, because he needs comforting. His descent into old age is pathetic and a grim reminder that mortality is no respecter of earthly achievement. And yet he peppers the book with interesting quotes: “It’s the fear of God that keeps me alive” and “Without a knowledge of hope, sorrow is unknown,” are just a sample.
It is ironic that the two women Johnson loved the most, Hester and Queeney are both distanced from him during his final days. They say that men of great intellect are unable to excel in matters of the heart, and this is one such example.
This book covers the last twenty years of his life when the aging, dropsied and gout ridden giant of letters, failing in eyesight, begins to frequent the company of the wealthy Thrall family, and in particular, Mrs. Hester Thrall. Hester is also a woman of robust health, giving birth to 12 children, many who die young, and yet she possesses the vivacity and spirit to charm a coterie of writers, actors, musicians and artists who frequent the Thrall family home in Streatham. The most smitten is Johnson, whom she leaves heartbroken when she marries the musician Piozzi after Henry Thrall dies of stroke by gorging himself to death.
Given that James Boswell wrote the “mother of all biographies” on Johnson and covered this very period, I wondered why the author chose this topic. The title says this account is “according to Queenie”, the Thrall’s oldest daughter, who is a baby when Johnson first arrives and who helps put the record straight at the end of each chapter by correcting various biographical references of the more detailed Boswell. Perhaps this is the authoritative and objective “woman’s perspective” of the great man.
Nothing much happens in this book except that the reader is taken on a tour of the eccentric and idle lives of the privileged and their retinues: touring in France, listening to the political wrangling in Johnson’s household between his quarrelsome staff and permanent residents, or Johnson’s own his eruptions with Mrs. Thrall whom he needs as a constant audience for his brilliance, the cautious narrative references to there being more than a “friendly” relationship between Johnson and Hester while her husband is still alive, and the intellectual discourses at Streatham that range from the death pangs of scorpions to the benefits of onanism. The only antagonist here is Death, who comes suddenly and unexpectedly, at childbirth or at the onset of a mild cold.
We get rich glimpses into life in the 18th century: actors losing it and battling each other on stage, buggery in the French court while the Royal couple partake of their meals in front of a viewing gallery, children given tin pills for worms that make them sicker, and ladies going “behind the bushes” while on long carriage rides. The narrative voice is archaic and fits the period; matters sexual are only referenced indirectly and the action is referred to obliquely. Thank God for Queeney’s summing up that help fill in the holes.
Johnson, for all his greatness, is depicted as a rough and rude man with strong convictions, needing constant validation; he even sleeps with his wife’s maid while the former is dying, because he needs comforting. His descent into old age is pathetic and a grim reminder that mortality is no respecter of earthly achievement. And yet he peppers the book with interesting quotes: “It’s the fear of God that keeps me alive” and “Without a knowledge of hope, sorrow is unknown,” are just a sample.
It is ironic that the two women Johnson loved the most, Hester and Queeney are both distanced from him during his final days. They say that men of great intellect are unable to excel in matters of the heart, and this is one such example.
August 10, 2017
Verdict: A fresh look at the inestimable Samuel Johnson and life in 1764, warts and all. Lots and lots of warts. It’s just warts, really. Possibly improved by doing the pre-rec reading.
I may as well admit to this; I’m one of those people who express (occasionally out-loud and in mixed company) a desire to live in the past. I’ve come to terms with this facet of my personality and it’s time you did too. Typically literature tends to intensify my longing for a TARDIS but Bainbridge decisively broke that mould when she penned ‘According to Queeney’. In fact, before I begin, I’d like to take a moment to thank The Present for all its wonders. For medicine not comprised of mercury and leeches. For indoors plumbing and basic sanitation. For whatever the hell it is that keeps babies from dying just all the time. Thank you, Progress. Thank you, Modernity. Thank you, Present.*
Now, on to ‘According to Queeney’, this is a work of historical fiction revolving around Hester Thrale and her and her family’s relationship with Samuel Johnson whom you may recognize from the 3rd series of Blackadder wherein his Dictionary was destroyed by the titular character. Well, turns out he’s real. Furthermore, I’ve been given to understand not only is his reality common knowledge, so too are many details of his life thanks to contemporary biographer and Scotsman James Boswell. Astonishing! At this point you, not unlike myself, might be beginning to suspect I was not Bainbridge’s target audience. Nevertheless I acknowledged my limitations in the field of all things Johnson and soldiered on.
So Johnson has written the Dictionary and now he is famous and ‘in ill health’, a pharse which does not so much connote a disease as it does a sort of tortured state of being the only treatment being mercury enemas and air. Tiring of enemas, Johnson opts for air and goes to spend some time at the country house of Henry and Hester Thrale. It goes from there. Johnson and Hester begin an affair, I think. The book blurb says things like ‘tells a story of unrequited love, passion, rejection’ etc etc. This is blatant sales patter and bears no resemblance to the actual novel. If there is any bumping uglies in this book never has the expression been more apt. Johnson is gross and needy, having barely nominal control of his bodily functions and the social graces of a Kardashian (i.e. all he does is talk about himself and demand love and attention).
The Thrales aren’t much better. Mr. Thale is an ass who looses the business and eats himself to death. Hester is a rather horrible woman whose interest in her children seems to diminish with each one she pops out. I gave up the count after 7. It got too depressing. I think its just Queeney (the eldest daughter) alive at the end. A few others made it pretty far but they all got struck down in a spate of ‘Sudden Death’, which apparently just rained from the sky in Georgian times. Well, the story follows these folks and Johnson’s entourage and we go from the country to London, to South London, to Johnson’s home in Litchfield, to Paris. The whole shebang is annotated with letters from Future Queeney and it ends as it begins; with Johnson’s death.
As I understand it, ‘According to Queeney’ comes at Johnson’s life at an oblique angle to the side covered by Boswell, which seems plausible. This has a domesticity of focus and a ‘warts and all’ approach only modern literature would accommodate. Boswell is still lurking in the corners though, as evidenced by a succession of sort-of-familiar sounding people popping in and out of the story and expecting me to recognize them. On the back of my book there is a quote from the Daily Telegraph’s Andrew Marr, “We see Johnson and his friends in unexpected and unfamiliar ways which are nevertheless convincing and authentic.” and herein lies my problem. I have no preconceived notions concerning the interactions of Johnson & Co. Nothing in this book was, to me, unexpected because I had no expectations.
I think the reader needs this background, I really do, because if you go into ‘According to Queeney’ without it there is no whimsy. There are no suppositions being turned on their heads, there is no glamour of the ‘backstage view’, it’s just a lot of people being horrible and babies dying. If you go in for that sort of thing, don’t let me discourage you. This is an excellently written novel, which really brings the domestic minutiae of the late 1700’s to life. Sadly, the late 1700s were horrible in every conceivable way.
I would rather take my chances in the trenches than with the omnipervasive pestilence that was city living before germ theory. The characters, as I have mentioned, do nothing to lift the mood and remain a consistently odious bunch. Who can blame them when this is when they live? Hester Thrale I especially forgive. Sure, she’s a bad human being like the rest of them, but she seems to have some backbone. Besides, there’s only so much rosiness you can sustain in your view of the world when the fruits of your womb expire like library loans. The men are irredeemable.
This is probably a darkened view of the past, it must be. There were probably good, happy, healthy people in the world. Some of them might have even been in this book. Hell, maybe I’ll read Boswell. He can’t be as grim as all this. Or maybe I’ll just flee into Discworld, my Happy Place of genres. I think I’ve earned it. That’s settled, lets wrap this thing up. ‘According to Queeney’ was technically excellent with poignant prose, self-evident research and a plot that, while unstructured, engaged the reader and flowed seamlessly. A fair bit of prior Johnson knowledge is assumed on the part of the author but that’s a minor quibble and probably my fault anyway. ‘According to Queeney’ was also depressing as hell. Awful things happen to awful people and instead of this being a good thing as it can sometimes be the effect is just ‘awful squared’. It’s not an awful book but was an awful read. Interesting, but not enjoyable and so it gets a 2.
*Just to clarify, Doctor, our deal is still on. I’d just ask that if we must visit London in the late 1700’s we bring many antibiotics and NO BABIES.
I may as well admit to this; I’m one of those people who express (occasionally out-loud and in mixed company) a desire to live in the past. I’ve come to terms with this facet of my personality and it’s time you did too. Typically literature tends to intensify my longing for a TARDIS but Bainbridge decisively broke that mould when she penned ‘According to Queeney’. In fact, before I begin, I’d like to take a moment to thank The Present for all its wonders. For medicine not comprised of mercury and leeches. For indoors plumbing and basic sanitation. For whatever the hell it is that keeps babies from dying just all the time. Thank you, Progress. Thank you, Modernity. Thank you, Present.*
Now, on to ‘According to Queeney’, this is a work of historical fiction revolving around Hester Thrale and her and her family’s relationship with Samuel Johnson whom you may recognize from the 3rd series of Blackadder wherein his Dictionary was destroyed by the titular character. Well, turns out he’s real. Furthermore, I’ve been given to understand not only is his reality common knowledge, so too are many details of his life thanks to contemporary biographer and Scotsman James Boswell. Astonishing! At this point you, not unlike myself, might be beginning to suspect I was not Bainbridge’s target audience. Nevertheless I acknowledged my limitations in the field of all things Johnson and soldiered on.
So Johnson has written the Dictionary and now he is famous and ‘in ill health’, a pharse which does not so much connote a disease as it does a sort of tortured state of being the only treatment being mercury enemas and air. Tiring of enemas, Johnson opts for air and goes to spend some time at the country house of Henry and Hester Thrale. It goes from there. Johnson and Hester begin an affair, I think. The book blurb says things like ‘tells a story of unrequited love, passion, rejection’ etc etc. This is blatant sales patter and bears no resemblance to the actual novel. If there is any bumping uglies in this book never has the expression been more apt. Johnson is gross and needy, having barely nominal control of his bodily functions and the social graces of a Kardashian (i.e. all he does is talk about himself and demand love and attention).
The Thrales aren’t much better. Mr. Thale is an ass who looses the business and eats himself to death. Hester is a rather horrible woman whose interest in her children seems to diminish with each one she pops out. I gave up the count after 7. It got too depressing. I think its just Queeney (the eldest daughter) alive at the end. A few others made it pretty far but they all got struck down in a spate of ‘Sudden Death’, which apparently just rained from the sky in Georgian times. Well, the story follows these folks and Johnson’s entourage and we go from the country to London, to South London, to Johnson’s home in Litchfield, to Paris. The whole shebang is annotated with letters from Future Queeney and it ends as it begins; with Johnson’s death.
As I understand it, ‘According to Queeney’ comes at Johnson’s life at an oblique angle to the side covered by Boswell, which seems plausible. This has a domesticity of focus and a ‘warts and all’ approach only modern literature would accommodate. Boswell is still lurking in the corners though, as evidenced by a succession of sort-of-familiar sounding people popping in and out of the story and expecting me to recognize them. On the back of my book there is a quote from the Daily Telegraph’s Andrew Marr, “We see Johnson and his friends in unexpected and unfamiliar ways which are nevertheless convincing and authentic.” and herein lies my problem. I have no preconceived notions concerning the interactions of Johnson & Co. Nothing in this book was, to me, unexpected because I had no expectations.
I think the reader needs this background, I really do, because if you go into ‘According to Queeney’ without it there is no whimsy. There are no suppositions being turned on their heads, there is no glamour of the ‘backstage view’, it’s just a lot of people being horrible and babies dying. If you go in for that sort of thing, don’t let me discourage you. This is an excellently written novel, which really brings the domestic minutiae of the late 1700’s to life. Sadly, the late 1700s were horrible in every conceivable way.
I would rather take my chances in the trenches than with the omnipervasive pestilence that was city living before germ theory. The characters, as I have mentioned, do nothing to lift the mood and remain a consistently odious bunch. Who can blame them when this is when they live? Hester Thrale I especially forgive. Sure, she’s a bad human being like the rest of them, but she seems to have some backbone. Besides, there’s only so much rosiness you can sustain in your view of the world when the fruits of your womb expire like library loans. The men are irredeemable.
This is probably a darkened view of the past, it must be. There were probably good, happy, healthy people in the world. Some of them might have even been in this book. Hell, maybe I’ll read Boswell. He can’t be as grim as all this. Or maybe I’ll just flee into Discworld, my Happy Place of genres. I think I’ve earned it. That’s settled, lets wrap this thing up. ‘According to Queeney’ was technically excellent with poignant prose, self-evident research and a plot that, while unstructured, engaged the reader and flowed seamlessly. A fair bit of prior Johnson knowledge is assumed on the part of the author but that’s a minor quibble and probably my fault anyway. ‘According to Queeney’ was also depressing as hell. Awful things happen to awful people and instead of this being a good thing as it can sometimes be the effect is just ‘awful squared’. It’s not an awful book but was an awful read. Interesting, but not enjoyable and so it gets a 2.
*Just to clarify, Doctor, our deal is still on. I’d just ask that if we must visit London in the late 1700’s we bring many antibiotics and NO BABIES.
August 14, 2013
This is a subtle, quirky, funny, tragic book. On one level it is about the life of Dr Johnson and his circle - but I think it's really about desire and frustration. The novel is also about the way in which lives keep being rewritten. Queeney the daughter of Mrs Thrale - who was beloved by Johnson - keeps getting letters from a would-be biographer of the great man. As a 'proper' young woman, Queeny gives unreliable testimony about the events of her childhood. Is this because she remembers a great deal but doesn't want to give secrets away? Or is it because she perceived events as a young girl would, not through adult eyes. Does anyone things truly? Is it the erudite but eccentric Johnson? The unhappily married Mrs Thrale? Or the indulged but neglected Queeney..? As readers we are left trying to make up our own mind.
I wonder whether this is my favourite of Beryl Bainbridge's books. It's the last book to be published before her death - and is a quite remarkable achievement...
I wonder whether this is my favourite of Beryl Bainbridge's books. It's the last book to be published before her death - and is a quite remarkable achievement...
July 18, 2008
As an admirer of Dr Johnson,I was keen to read this novel about his friendship with fellow-writer Hester Thrale - since reading this I've also read some of her own writings and am now a fan of her too. However, I was disappointed with the novel because I didn't feel its portrayal of either of them was very convincing - Johnson in particular isn't nearly witty enough.
At the time I read it, I noted down that the thing which
disturbed me about it was the pervasive theme of physical decay - there seems to be so much not only about Johnson's tics and body odour and spilt food, but also about the physical problems and inadequacies of other characters. The book is overflowing with chamber-pots, worms, foul smells... of course, life in the 18th century must have had all these unpleasant physical aspects and many more, but I find something unsettling about the way in which Bainbridge writes about these harsh realities. Surely people in
that society would not have been as worried by odours or dirt as she suggests, because these were facts of everyday life.
At the time I read it, I noted down that the thing which
disturbed me about it was the pervasive theme of physical decay - there seems to be so much not only about Johnson's tics and body odour and spilt food, but also about the physical problems and inadequacies of other characters. The book is overflowing with chamber-pots, worms, foul smells... of course, life in the 18th century must have had all these unpleasant physical aspects and many more, but I find something unsettling about the way in which Bainbridge writes about these harsh realities. Surely people in
that society would not have been as worried by odours or dirt as she suggests, because these were facts of everyday life.
May 19, 2010
Dr. Samuel Johnson, the lexicographer and English man of letters, became friends with the wealthy brewer Henry Thrale and his wife Hester, and lived with them at their country and London homes for seventeen years. What's known is that Johnson and Mrs Thrale had some kind of flirtation; it doesn't seem to be known how far that went. Queeney is the eldest daughter of the Thrales, who observes her mother, Johnson, and other goings on in the strange household.
This book describes a various episodes during those years. People are always visiting, or going on journeys, or returning from them. The squalor, filth, and illness of the 18th century are described in detail.
There's a lot of tension between Mrs. Thrale and Queeney, for no obvious reason except that Mrs. Thrale is a classic narcissist and Queeney defies her. Mrs. Thrale is constantly pregnant but nearly all her children die and she seems to care only for her son and for a daughter who died before the story begins. At one point a family friend reprimands Mrs. Thrale for giving Queeney so many tin pills for worms and for purging her so vigorously, and I'm all, wow, is this going to be Munchausen's Syndrome by Proxy in the 18th century? Wild! but no.
I'm not sure what to say about this books. It doesn't have a real story arc; there are various incidents described by an omniscient narrator, interspersed with letters from Queeney written years later that show her to be an unreliable source. If the stories the narrator tells us are true.
If it has a theme it's that of unrequited love: Johnson's for Mrs Thrale, his houskeeper Mrs. Desmoulins for Johnson, Mrs. Thrale for her music teacher. Queeney for her mother.
I liked it, and it stayed with me. That counts for something.
This book describes a various episodes during those years. People are always visiting, or going on journeys, or returning from them. The squalor, filth, and illness of the 18th century are described in detail.
There's a lot of tension between Mrs. Thrale and Queeney, for no obvious reason except that Mrs. Thrale is a classic narcissist and Queeney defies her. Mrs. Thrale is constantly pregnant but nearly all her children die and she seems to care only for her son and for a daughter who died before the story begins. At one point a family friend reprimands Mrs. Thrale for giving Queeney so many tin pills for worms and for purging her so vigorously, and I'm all, wow, is this going to be Munchausen's Syndrome by Proxy in the 18th century? Wild! but no.
I'm not sure what to say about this books. It doesn't have a real story arc; there are various incidents described by an omniscient narrator, interspersed with letters from Queeney written years later that show her to be an unreliable source. If the stories the narrator tells us are true.
If it has a theme it's that of unrequited love: Johnson's for Mrs Thrale, his houskeeper Mrs. Desmoulins for Johnson, Mrs. Thrale for her music teacher. Queeney for her mother.
I liked it, and it stayed with me. That counts for something.
August 6, 2013
When you had fathomed out who was who this was a very enjoyable book on many levels. It was for me a lovely insight into domestic life in 18th C London and a fascinating speculation into the lives and motivations of Johnson and the Thrales. It was wonderfully funny and wonderfully sad. Themes of mortality and change were woven into the passing of the years and the title was explained by the subjective and sometimes less than truthful recollections of Queenie in her interspersed letters. Beautifully written, a real treat!
January 26, 2011
I think you need to be at least a little familiar with Samuel Johnson to appreciate this book, but if you do I think it's a nice window onto him and his world.
March 27, 2014
Samuel Johnson was not a man I knew much about, but Bainbridge's biopic in According to Queeney brought this eccentric and often difficult character to life.
The first chapter was a difficult read as there are many names mentioned, and their relationships to one another are not initially explained. Once you get past the difficult beginning the book begins to flow nicely.
Johnson is a fascinating character, and this novel focusses on his later years which are plagued by illness and where his personality was most accentuated. He switches between frustrating and lovable continuously, and his eccentricity and isolating intellect are portrayed well. The "will they wont they" relationship Johnson has with Mrs Thrale is uncertain throughout and really holds your interest.
I found this books very interesting and it gives an easier insight into the story of this great man than a true biography. I knew little of Johnson's accomplishments before I read this book, but it has inspired me to delve deeper.
The first chapter was a difficult read as there are many names mentioned, and their relationships to one another are not initially explained. Once you get past the difficult beginning the book begins to flow nicely.
Johnson is a fascinating character, and this novel focusses on his later years which are plagued by illness and where his personality was most accentuated. He switches between frustrating and lovable continuously, and his eccentricity and isolating intellect are portrayed well. The "will they wont they" relationship Johnson has with Mrs Thrale is uncertain throughout and really holds your interest.
I found this books very interesting and it gives an easier insight into the story of this great man than a true biography. I knew little of Johnson's accomplishments before I read this book, but it has inspired me to delve deeper.
November 7, 2009
Does for Johnson what The Master does for Henry James, i.e. bring to life a seemingly staid character entrenched in literary history, showing him in his daily life and human interactions, his uncertainties, hopes and fears. Many touching moments, and it’s a very short book too. You don’t have to be a fan of Johnson to get pleasure from it. Sometimes humorous and often whimsical. I think the portrait of Queeney on the cover of my copy is poignant too. She looks bright-eyed and mischievous and full of life, and half mocking the formality of the sitting.
July 30, 2014
After reading two thirds I decided I couldn't be chewed to read on any longer because although I had read so much, I was no further on understanding the plot save for becoming more and more irritated with Samuel Johnson. The small asides afforded by Queeney's insolence and devilment were the only rays of sunshine in what was a tedious read. I did, however, like the style of writing. It was descriptive in a way I've not seen before and there were some great passages that I can't be arsed, for reasons of having already wasted too much of my life reading this, to replicate here.
June 27, 2010
This reads like a well-done sketch for a novel about Samuel Johnson, Hester Thrale and the Thrale family. There are many interesting historical details - Bainbridge's research is quite impressive - but there was no story to pull me in, no characters to get attached to. Bainbridge switches perspectives quite a bit, which gets frustrating, as "Why do I care about this minor character's POV of this event?" I was expecting something more substantial.
January 8, 2016
I enjoyed this book but have a hard time figuring out why I enjoyed it! I loved the way the third party narration was always subtly a character's subjective point of view. The picture of Johnson is interesting - he is pleasure bound, intelligent but childish in the extreme.
"...it had...occurred to her how curious it was that, in order to express themselves, great men constantly relied on the thoughts of those long dead." p12.
"...it had...occurred to her how curious it was that, in order to express themselves, great men constantly relied on the thoughts of those long dead." p12.
November 7, 2012
A witty and sometimes irreverent look at the great man, it portrays Dr Johnson as plain old Sam by people who knew in his domestic and private life. It is accessible and the portrait Bainbridge gives of Dr Johnson certainly lives in the memory. For those who've not read anything by Beryl Bainbridge this novel may well get you starting to look out for her.
September 23, 2008
So this is everything you want to know about Samuel Johnson and more. The research is meticulous - things I thought were fictitious turned out to be based solidly in fact. The novel took me into an era I knew only in the vaguest terms.
February 1, 2015
If you like all things historical, particularly the eightenth century, then this novel may well be for you. A wonderful short novel that captures all the grottiness of the time-world it re-creates. A very good little novel. Samuel Johnson of course.
August 13, 2014
Beautifully written, engaging, thought provoking, I knew little about the actual people Bainbridge is writing about but it didn't matter, she made all of them come alive with an extraordinary economy.
January 29, 2016
I forgot how good Beryl Bainbridge can be. In this excursion to the past we are taken to the circle of Dr Johnson as remembered by the precocious Queeney Thrale. I feel the need perhaps to read some Johnson again as it has been a while.
September 12, 2010
Loved reading about Samuel Johnson...
October 22, 2011
More like a time machine than a book, you really feel that you are there. BB describes the chaos and eccentricity effortlessly. I loved it and didn't want it to end.
September 29, 2011
Brilliant prose, ideas. I was sorry to see this end, but luckily for me, Bainbridge is prolific.
October 21, 2012
Very cleverly written.
September 13, 2010
Couldn't finish this (life is too short to read a book I don't enjoy)
June 8, 2024
My first introduction to the life of 18th Century writer Samuel Johnson.
It’s written in a down-to-earth and straightforward style and has a way of describing absurd or shocking things in such a no-nonsense way that you almost miss them. I found I had to slow down and read, and enjoy, every word.
An interesting insight into Georgian life, warts and all. The author has a way of revealing facts and characters piecemeal over the course of the book, so I can imagine reading it again would be a very different experience from the first time. Funny at times but overall kind of sad; I felt like Johnson came across as a tragic character. Not really my thing, but I can appreciate why others enjoy this novelist.
It’s written in a down-to-earth and straightforward style and has a way of describing absurd or shocking things in such a no-nonsense way that you almost miss them. I found I had to slow down and read, and enjoy, every word.
An interesting insight into Georgian life, warts and all. The author has a way of revealing facts and characters piecemeal over the course of the book, so I can imagine reading it again would be a very different experience from the first time. Funny at times but overall kind of sad; I felt like Johnson came across as a tragic character. Not really my thing, but I can appreciate why others enjoy this novelist.
November 3, 2017
found this book to be delightfully unusual! Two irascible, unappealing, but compelling chracters. I was somewhat familiar with Samuel Johnson having made my way through about half of Boswell's tome. Bainbridge has a remarkable gift for twisting life into one big ambiguity, filled with magic and darkness. According to Queeney follows Johnson's last twenty years and his friendship with the Thrale family. Most of the characters are enormously self-centered, remiss in love and filled with below first level longings. I found it to be odd and entertaining.
September 29, 2024
Beryl Bainbridge is a highly acclaimed writer and this edition of According to Queeney contains many quotes from eminent critics and authors praising the novel. However, I disliked Bainbridge’s style of writing and just could not engage with the characters and the narrative, though I struggled through to the end.
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