“I was beginning to understand Ingrid Bauer. She was always pushing me to the edge in one way or another. My boundaries were made from sand so she reckoned she could push them over, and I let her. I gave my unspoken consent because I want to know what’s going to happen next, even if it’s not to my advantage. Am I self-destructive, or pathetically passive, or reckless, or just experimental, or am I a rigorous cultural anthropologist, or am I in love?”
I enjoyed The Cost of Living so much that I wanted to read more Deborah Levy. This Booker Prize-shortlisted novel features more of the same dry wit. And it has a similar “voice”.
Excellently plotted, it details what happens when anthropology student Sofia accompanies her mother from England to Spain for treatment at a specialist health clinic. In the sultry idyll of the hot beaches where jellyfish sting swimmers, Sofia begins two relationships – one with a man and one with a woman. As her mother’s mysterious ailment is explored by the enigmatic Mr. Gomez, Sofia reflects on her relationship with her mother and her place in the world.
It’s the best novel I’ve read for a long time. Deborah Levy weaves the threads together with such subtle humour and expanding richness that it’s a joy to read. Recurring motifs – the medusa jellyfish, an embroidered shirt, a taxidermy exhibit, the screensaver image on a broken laptop – resonate throughout and become increasingly laden with symbolic meaning. They combine to create something that feels mythically powerful.
No comments:
Post a Comment