Firstly, I believe that The Narrow Land is more of a Marmite (love or hate) book than average. But for those who enjoy this kind of novel, it is a new modern classic. In this review I will go through some of the main points in the book and explain why I fall into the love category – hopefully by the end you will have a good idea of whether you might too.
Most of the novel is set in Cape Cod, an American beach resort populated in the summer by wealthy families in rented holiday homes. Michael, a ten year old boy, was orphaned in Germany during the war and adopted by an American family. His relationship with his adoptive mother is strained, and the novel begins at a New York train station as she sends him off to meet Mrs Kaplan and her grandson, Richie, to stay with them for the summer. The artists Edward Hopper and his wife Josephine Nivison own a house nearby to the Kaplan's holiday home. They have a turbulent relationship – she is regularly overcome by bitterness at his success while she feels she has sacrificed her own opportunities, and they regularly have violent arguments which can last for days. Richie's aunt Katherine is terminally ill, and both Michael and Edward are infatuated by her, Michael as his first boyhood crush, and Edward as his muse. 'The blue blouse. The light on her face. He couldn't figure out if it was pouring into her or pouring out of her. He thought she looked sanctified. Then he thought she looked the opposite. The light and the punishing heat, it did something to her that was beyond his understanding.' Set in 1950, the world is in the shadow of the Second World War, and with soldiers departing for Korea stability still feels a far off dream. At the heart of the novel are loss, love, companionship, loneliness, regret, and finding identity in rapidly changing times. 'As she stands in the doorway watching him, the feeling comes on her again, under her breastbone, between her ribs. A feeling that is one second of joy, two seconds of grief. And she knows then: what has been removed is loneliness and what has been added is love.'
This is not a book for someone who wants action. This is a book where not a lot happens for a large portion of the novel, but what does happen has so much significance that it sweeps you away. There is beauty in the simple things, and the descriptions are immersive. 'There will be the vault of the sky; the vast belly of the bay; the acres of flat beach; and the ever restless grass. In the whole of that, she will not take up much space. But she will be all the space he is likely to feel.' What is important is the detail noticed by the characters, the flow and nuances of their lives as they evolve and interact. And when something more dramatic does happen in the plot, it makes you take notice. There were a couple of occasions where I fought with my eyes not to skim to the next paragraph. It's the growth of the characters, the complex emotions laid bare, and the feeling of a time and place brought to life which I enjoyed most about this novel.
This is a book for someone who likes to see the scenes. The novel is description heavy, but through the lens of each character something different is revealed. There are so many examples of beautiful lyrical writing, and I felt transported through the detail and its vividness. 'She told him all about the grackle bird when they were out for a walk one day, that it is mean and stubborn and nothing but trouble...'Black, spindly legged, crazy eyed, they are not much to look at. When they get together the noise they make would split your ears right open. There is nothing to endear them to man and it's no wonder that a collective noun for them is plague or annoyance... Oh but Michael, when they take off, when they fly over the sky just after dawn and the early sun tips over their backs and the rich, deep colours begin to lift, sapphire and emerald, and oh, oh...as they move across the bay in long, loose lines, well... it's as if one is looking at the threads of a heavenly tapestry.'' You get a real sense of the energy of the characters too, and in this case Jo's eye for beauty and opinionated extraversion come across well.
At first the novel seemed slow – the narration is in present tense and every action felt detailed rather than a zoomed out version of only the important parts. But were any of this detail to be taken out, the novel would not be what it is. The detail through each character grew on me as I read, and became necessary as the reader is brought so close to what it means to live in each character's head. I think this book needs to be read a second time to be appreciated in a new light. It needs to be savoured, and I think new things will emerge in the second reading. In fact, at around a third of the way through the novel I thought it was likely to be three stars for me. Even at this point there were moments where this felt wrong, as the quality of writing is too high. I felt differently as the novel unfurled further. There is an underlying tension, a pull that lured me to continue reading. The explosive arguments between Edward and Jo, her jealousy, his attraction to Katherine, Michael's attraction to her also, and his behaviour which is so at odds with his host family. These conflicts remain an undercurrent through the novel, threatening to rise and quell in every chapter until they come to an inevitable head and each character must realise their own flaws. 'But no sentence ever written had the power to get by the hellfire blazing in her head, and each word read had flamed up on contact and disintegrated. Inside her it felt like there were demons twisting and turning, clawing at her stomach. She worked herself up so she could hardly think and, before she knew it, she was sitting bolt upright, screeching and growling through barred teeth.'
The Narrow Land deals with some serious themes, but there is enough thread of optimism to keep it from becoming too heavy, and this is usually through beautiful passages of description and hopefulness 'the way the sun swells up and then seems to burst? As if it is bleeding all over the world. A few short seconds of looking at this, and the whole day – even the worst of them – seems worthwhile somehow.' If you love well written historical fiction, this is one such novel. More than focussing on events which we know happened, this novel captures the essence of the time. It connects to something deeper, something universal. The themes of regret, decay and discontent run through the narrative. Jo mourns the loss of her career which she feels she sacrificed in order to support Edward. She feels strongly that a women's place is not in the kitchen to serve her husband, yet she resents the lack of success in her own career, feels that she used to be filled with creativity and spark and ambition and has lost it all to married life. She blames male dominance in the art world for her lack of success. But when left alone, she cleans rather than work on her art. This novel is set during a time of great change. The world has just been through the horrors of the Second World War, and this overshadows people's lives wherever they go. This idyllic holiday resort cut off from the main world is an escape for the privileged, but there is no getting away from memories and loss. For Edward, who is struggling with depression and a long slump with little to no artistic output, the themes of decay and ageing regularly crop up. 'Richie and Katherine and himself. Three static points on an equilateral triangle. A frenzy of light and movement between them. Ruthless light of mid to late afternoon...He needs to hold on to all of that without looking it straight in the face. To be inside ad outside of it; absent and at the same time present. Like looking into a room through a mirror. Boy in his youth; woman in her prime; man facing into old age...He thinks: Mercury. Venus. Saturn, the bringer of old age. Light before dusk through a mirror...Behind him he hears the mirror crack, shatter and fall away.'
The narrative slips between dream and reality, past and present. It reads like a classic novel, but the revealing narration in present tense gives it a modern feel. The chapters cycle through several point of view characters – Michael, his adoptive mother Mrs Novak, Edward Hopper and Jo Hopper. Each gives a fresh perspective. Each is convincing, and then these convictions are remoulded when a different character takes over. The novel deals with the complexities of human relationships and perspective. Each character does things that I found hard to believe or like about them, for example how immature Jo could be during an argument with Edward. But when the wider contexts came to light, the narration is so convincing that I found myself understanding each character even when it contradicted the reality I had just embodied in another. This is especially evident through the bickering between Edward and Jo Hopper. Throughout the novel they are mostly referred to as Mr and Mrs Aitch, and it is only after reading the book jacket that I have put two and two together – that these are fictionalised versions of the real-life artists, and in fact the cover image is an Edward Hopper painting. In real life she has admitted how different they are, and is quoted saying: 'sometimes talking to Eddie is just like dropping a stone in a well, except that it doesn't thump when it hits bottom.' Despite the differences between Edward and Jo, they are suited to one another. They have passionate arguments, but underneath is a deep sort of love, a strange one that those outside the relationship find difficult to understand. 'We are bone of each other's bone. Flesh of each other's flesh.'
Michael has PTSD as a result of all he has witnessed during the war. He is around three years old in his earliest memories and what he remembers is through the eyes of a child - dreamlike and incomplete – but these snatches haunt him completely. As a result he has some strange behaviours which most around him are unable to understand. Yet to him, what he has experienced is fact – his narration does not try to get the reader to pity him, simply to see the world through his eyes. For a ten year old boy, Michael has a heartbreaking understanding of death, and his moments of lyrical reflection are all the more emotional due to his age. 'Her reflection leans into his reflection. His reflection passes through hers, and it is like they are both standing underwater staring at one another. Everything stops for a couple of seconds, then the room behind her starts filling up with people. Hundreds of see-through people, standing there in one big blurry crowd. Ghosts. He thinks, they have got to be ghosts. And it comes to him then that you don't need a war for people to die...one day Mrs Kaplan will die and then she will be a ghost. And one day he will be a ghost too. But Mrs Kaplan, she will have melted back into the crowd long before it is his turn to stand on the far side of the glass.' I like the voice of Michael, and the flashbacks to his experiences in Germany. Current and past events have been weaved together well, with not too much weight on either. You really get a sense of the character through the narration and mannerisms, with just the right balance of description. I found some parts of Michael's narration strange, for example when he is referred to as 'the boy' and how the tense mixes between past and present during flashback scenes. Michael has faced trauma as a young child in war torn Germany – he has been displaced to a new life and forced to forget his old one. It feels as though he doubts his worth, is detached from society, has no control. It is strange that his name is not mentioned until page 124, but from then on his name is used more than any other character, and it is as though his sense of his identity and confidence are growing. Most characters are rarely referred to by name, instead described as 'the woman', he, or she. It is as though the reader is observing something at a distance, but with the benefit of personal insight. This feels uncomfortable and intrusive, especially in the first scene at the train station, but adds to the tone of the novel. In a new chapter it is clear very quickly which character is narrating, despite the lack of name tags to identify them.
My lasting impression of The Narrow Land is that it is an artwork. It is built up in layers of tiny lines which repeat the broader strokes of theme. When you stand back the intricate lines make sense as a whole. It has so many beautiful lines which I had to cut myself back from quoting in this review, and for people who enjoy this sort of novel, I believe it is a masterpiece which deserves to be re-read.
Most of the novel is set in Cape Cod, an American beach resort populated in the summer by wealthy families in rented holiday homes. Michael, a ten year old boy, was orphaned in Germany during the war and adopted by an American family. His relationship with his adoptive mother is strained, and the novel begins at a New York train station as she sends him off to meet Mrs Kaplan and her grandson, Richie, to stay with them for the summer. The artists Edward Hopper and his wife Josephine Nivison own a house nearby to the Kaplan's holiday home. They have a turbulent relationship – she is regularly overcome by bitterness at his success while she feels she has sacrificed her own opportunities, and they regularly have violent arguments which can last for days. Richie's aunt Katherine is terminally ill, and both Michael and Edward are infatuated by her, Michael as his first boyhood crush, and Edward as his muse. 'The blue blouse. The light on her face. He couldn't figure out if it was pouring into her or pouring out of her. He thought she looked sanctified. Then he thought she looked the opposite. The light and the punishing heat, it did something to her that was beyond his understanding.' Set in 1950, the world is in the shadow of the Second World War, and with soldiers departing for Korea stability still feels a far off dream. At the heart of the novel are loss, love, companionship, loneliness, regret, and finding identity in rapidly changing times. 'As she stands in the doorway watching him, the feeling comes on her again, under her breastbone, between her ribs. A feeling that is one second of joy, two seconds of grief. And she knows then: what has been removed is loneliness and what has been added is love.'
This is not a book for someone who wants action. This is a book where not a lot happens for a large portion of the novel, but what does happen has so much significance that it sweeps you away. There is beauty in the simple things, and the descriptions are immersive. 'There will be the vault of the sky; the vast belly of the bay; the acres of flat beach; and the ever restless grass. In the whole of that, she will not take up much space. But she will be all the space he is likely to feel.' What is important is the detail noticed by the characters, the flow and nuances of their lives as they evolve and interact. And when something more dramatic does happen in the plot, it makes you take notice. There were a couple of occasions where I fought with my eyes not to skim to the next paragraph. It's the growth of the characters, the complex emotions laid bare, and the feeling of a time and place brought to life which I enjoyed most about this novel.
This is a book for someone who likes to see the scenes. The novel is description heavy, but through the lens of each character something different is revealed. There are so many examples of beautiful lyrical writing, and I felt transported through the detail and its vividness. 'She told him all about the grackle bird when they were out for a walk one day, that it is mean and stubborn and nothing but trouble...'Black, spindly legged, crazy eyed, they are not much to look at. When they get together the noise they make would split your ears right open. There is nothing to endear them to man and it's no wonder that a collective noun for them is plague or annoyance... Oh but Michael, when they take off, when they fly over the sky just after dawn and the early sun tips over their backs and the rich, deep colours begin to lift, sapphire and emerald, and oh, oh...as they move across the bay in long, loose lines, well... it's as if one is looking at the threads of a heavenly tapestry.'' You get a real sense of the energy of the characters too, and in this case Jo's eye for beauty and opinionated extraversion come across well.
At first the novel seemed slow – the narration is in present tense and every action felt detailed rather than a zoomed out version of only the important parts. But were any of this detail to be taken out, the novel would not be what it is. The detail through each character grew on me as I read, and became necessary as the reader is brought so close to what it means to live in each character's head. I think this book needs to be read a second time to be appreciated in a new light. It needs to be savoured, and I think new things will emerge in the second reading. In fact, at around a third of the way through the novel I thought it was likely to be three stars for me. Even at this point there were moments where this felt wrong, as the quality of writing is too high. I felt differently as the novel unfurled further. There is an underlying tension, a pull that lured me to continue reading. The explosive arguments between Edward and Jo, her jealousy, his attraction to Katherine, Michael's attraction to her also, and his behaviour which is so at odds with his host family. These conflicts remain an undercurrent through the novel, threatening to rise and quell in every chapter until they come to an inevitable head and each character must realise their own flaws. 'But no sentence ever written had the power to get by the hellfire blazing in her head, and each word read had flamed up on contact and disintegrated. Inside her it felt like there were demons twisting and turning, clawing at her stomach. She worked herself up so she could hardly think and, before she knew it, she was sitting bolt upright, screeching and growling through barred teeth.'
The Narrow Land deals with some serious themes, but there is enough thread of optimism to keep it from becoming too heavy, and this is usually through beautiful passages of description and hopefulness 'the way the sun swells up and then seems to burst? As if it is bleeding all over the world. A few short seconds of looking at this, and the whole day – even the worst of them – seems worthwhile somehow.' If you love well written historical fiction, this is one such novel. More than focussing on events which we know happened, this novel captures the essence of the time. It connects to something deeper, something universal. The themes of regret, decay and discontent run through the narrative. Jo mourns the loss of her career which she feels she sacrificed in order to support Edward. She feels strongly that a women's place is not in the kitchen to serve her husband, yet she resents the lack of success in her own career, feels that she used to be filled with creativity and spark and ambition and has lost it all to married life. She blames male dominance in the art world for her lack of success. But when left alone, she cleans rather than work on her art. This novel is set during a time of great change. The world has just been through the horrors of the Second World War, and this overshadows people's lives wherever they go. This idyllic holiday resort cut off from the main world is an escape for the privileged, but there is no getting away from memories and loss. For Edward, who is struggling with depression and a long slump with little to no artistic output, the themes of decay and ageing regularly crop up. 'Richie and Katherine and himself. Three static points on an equilateral triangle. A frenzy of light and movement between them. Ruthless light of mid to late afternoon...He needs to hold on to all of that without looking it straight in the face. To be inside ad outside of it; absent and at the same time present. Like looking into a room through a mirror. Boy in his youth; woman in her prime; man facing into old age...He thinks: Mercury. Venus. Saturn, the bringer of old age. Light before dusk through a mirror...Behind him he hears the mirror crack, shatter and fall away.'
The narrative slips between dream and reality, past and present. It reads like a classic novel, but the revealing narration in present tense gives it a modern feel. The chapters cycle through several point of view characters – Michael, his adoptive mother Mrs Novak, Edward Hopper and Jo Hopper. Each gives a fresh perspective. Each is convincing, and then these convictions are remoulded when a different character takes over. The novel deals with the complexities of human relationships and perspective. Each character does things that I found hard to believe or like about them, for example how immature Jo could be during an argument with Edward. But when the wider contexts came to light, the narration is so convincing that I found myself understanding each character even when it contradicted the reality I had just embodied in another. This is especially evident through the bickering between Edward and Jo Hopper. Throughout the novel they are mostly referred to as Mr and Mrs Aitch, and it is only after reading the book jacket that I have put two and two together – that these are fictionalised versions of the real-life artists, and in fact the cover image is an Edward Hopper painting. In real life she has admitted how different they are, and is quoted saying: 'sometimes talking to Eddie is just like dropping a stone in a well, except that it doesn't thump when it hits bottom.' Despite the differences between Edward and Jo, they are suited to one another. They have passionate arguments, but underneath is a deep sort of love, a strange one that those outside the relationship find difficult to understand. 'We are bone of each other's bone. Flesh of each other's flesh.'
Michael has PTSD as a result of all he has witnessed during the war. He is around three years old in his earliest memories and what he remembers is through the eyes of a child - dreamlike and incomplete – but these snatches haunt him completely. As a result he has some strange behaviours which most around him are unable to understand. Yet to him, what he has experienced is fact – his narration does not try to get the reader to pity him, simply to see the world through his eyes. For a ten year old boy, Michael has a heartbreaking understanding of death, and his moments of lyrical reflection are all the more emotional due to his age. 'Her reflection leans into his reflection. His reflection passes through hers, and it is like they are both standing underwater staring at one another. Everything stops for a couple of seconds, then the room behind her starts filling up with people. Hundreds of see-through people, standing there in one big blurry crowd. Ghosts. He thinks, they have got to be ghosts. And it comes to him then that you don't need a war for people to die...one day Mrs Kaplan will die and then she will be a ghost. And one day he will be a ghost too. But Mrs Kaplan, she will have melted back into the crowd long before it is his turn to stand on the far side of the glass.' I like the voice of Michael, and the flashbacks to his experiences in Germany. Current and past events have been weaved together well, with not too much weight on either. You really get a sense of the character through the narration and mannerisms, with just the right balance of description. I found some parts of Michael's narration strange, for example when he is referred to as 'the boy' and how the tense mixes between past and present during flashback scenes. Michael has faced trauma as a young child in war torn Germany – he has been displaced to a new life and forced to forget his old one. It feels as though he doubts his worth, is detached from society, has no control. It is strange that his name is not mentioned until page 124, but from then on his name is used more than any other character, and it is as though his sense of his identity and confidence are growing. Most characters are rarely referred to by name, instead described as 'the woman', he, or she. It is as though the reader is observing something at a distance, but with the benefit of personal insight. This feels uncomfortable and intrusive, especially in the first scene at the train station, but adds to the tone of the novel. In a new chapter it is clear very quickly which character is narrating, despite the lack of name tags to identify them.
My lasting impression of The Narrow Land is that it is an artwork. It is built up in layers of tiny lines which repeat the broader strokes of theme. When you stand back the intricate lines make sense as a whole. It has so many beautiful lines which I had to cut myself back from quoting in this review, and for people who enjoy this sort of novel, I believe it is a masterpiece which deserves to be re-read.