The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobson

In October this novel won its author the 2010 Man Booker Prize for fiction. It was highly praised by the judges: Andrew Motion, the chair of the panel, described it as ‘a marvellous book: very funny, of course, but also very clever, very sad and very subtle. It is all that it seems to be and much more than it seems to be. A completely worthy winner of this great prize’. Much of the published critical reaction has also been very enthusiastic. However, a check of customer reactions on the Amazon.com website tells a different story. There is certainly some enthusiasm, but a lot of the commentators speak of their disappointment, and of finding the book tedious, boring, and impossible to finish.

Although by his own admission not an observant Jew, Jacobson is a writer very conscious of his Jewish background and heritage, and this, apparently like many of his other books (though Redback set in Australian academia is an exception) focuses very much on the experience of being Jewish today. Set in London, its primary focus is on Julian Treslove, a melancholy middle-aged and middle class man who seems never to make much success of anything he tries. Prominent in the novel are two Jewish men, both recently widowed, the elderly Libov, who once had a successful journalistic career which brought him into contact with celebrities, and Samuel Finkler, a former schoolmate of Treslove’s but now a media celebrity on the basis of his work popularising (and trivialising) philosophy. Treslove and these two frequently meet together, and could be regarded as friends, though there is a good measure of rivalry and jealousy in the relationship between Treslove and Finkler.

Central to the novel is Treslove’s mugging one evening by a woman, who says something to him which he interprets as possibly being ‘You Jew’. This heightens in Treslove a desire to possess qualities he believes Jews to possess, and to become a Jew himself, a ‘Finkler’ as he calls it in his own mind, and much of the novel, which has little in the way of a ‘story line’, is concerned with his exploration of what being Jewish involves. (Perhaps surprisingly, the theology and religious beliefs of Judaism has little role in this. The emphasis is on social and attitudinal aspects of Judaism.) There is much introspection on Treslove’s part, and he and the reader encounter a great many varieties of Jewish experience, much of it involving anxieties and misgivings. A group called ‘ASHamed Jews’, in which Finkler plays a major role, though not without challenge, is prominent. This takes place against a background of significant anti-Semitism, which several of the Jewish characters, and one strongly suspects the author, see as a major problem threatening the physical and social well-being of Jews in countries like Britain today.

If the frequent suggestions that the novel is ‘very funny’ encouraged anyone to read it in the expectation of a good laugh, he or she would be disappointed. There are amusing moments, but much of the humour consists in the presentation of the bizarre, the offbeat, the hyperbolic – such as the Jewish man trying to reverse the physical effects of circumcision. Some critics have praised the characterisation, but readers may find it a problem that the characters are presented with little warmth or humanity. Treslove is a rather tiresome ‘loser’: he does not conspicuously display qualities of decency and honesty which redeem other losers in literature, and the fact that women are attracted to him, albeit some briefly, and two have borne sons to him, strains credulity. Finkler is frankly rather unpleasant, and Libov does not emerge far from the ‘elderly Mitteleuropa Jew’ stereotype. The female characters rarely if ever become more than foils to the men – this is perhaps most noticeable in the case of Hephzibah, who becomes Treslove’s partner in a relationship which seems to offer remarkably little to her.

Perhaps the greatest success of the novel is in its treatment of male grief. Neither Libov nor Finkler had a perfect marriage relationship, though Libov came a lot closer than the frequently unfaithful Finkler, and each feels quite complex emotions as they come to terms with their loss. Jacobson must also be credited with writing prose that is invariable lucid, and which carries the reader on even when he or she is suppressing an inward groan when yet more angst rears its head. The Finkler Question is probably to be regarded as a work for the connoisseur, no more readily and instantly enjoyable than the new classical music composition that the orchestra conductor slips in between the Rossini overture and the Tchaikovsky symphony, but it is interesting as an example of what expert opinion regards as outstanding novel writing at the beginning of the twenty-first century.

Sense and Sensibilty by Jane Austen

Oh - isn't it great to read Jane again? I have enjoyed myself very much in this reading. I hope some of you are enjoying it too and will share some thoughts and favourite scenes or passages with us. This book should be shared aloud. I confess it took me 50 or so pages to get back into the rhythm of her prose but once having achieved that I smiled and sometimes laughed all the way through the book.

Sense and Sensibilty (1811) was Austens first published novel . The story centres around the Dashwood young women , Elinor and Marianne , their mother , a step brother and his family and a host of family friends and occasionally, would-be enemies. It is a first rate domestic comedic drama with a very simple plot line - and there in lies the genius. The dialogue between the characters and the musings of Elinor , her sister and others bob along with wit, incisive observation on character ,in the small and larger matters of love life , enough to delight anyone. The main twists in the story are related to who is going to marry who and the very important associated issue of how much money each couple is going to have for their reasonably relaxed and indolent lifestyles. In this novel as contrasted with some of the later novels - Emma for instance- no one is observed, even obliquely , working at earning a living - men or women. Whatever farming supervision and management is undertaken on estates owned by some family members gets very little or no mention - it all gets done out there somewhere but doesn't impinge on the plot line at all . We don't meet any dependent governesses needing salvation or support either.

But who do we meet ? A wonderful array of people who in the course of the novel exhibit for us love, selfishness, wisdom, cunning, generosity, meanness, cleverness, stupidity etc etc. In fact just about all the juxtaposed qualities used by many of us in our day- to- day lives. If the social scenery we are observing is relatively contained, even by comparison with other Austen novels, it is so so stylishly presented from the point of view of Sense and Sensibility. I think the very restricted view concentrates the minute observation so clearly. I particularly love the author's obvious delight in summarising foibles so well. One passage among many illustrated this point well for me - a summary of the characters of two of the least attractive women in the book , Lady Middleton and Mrs Dashwood junior - the wife of the step brother , not Mrs Dashwood senior - mother of Elinor and I quote:
"There was a kind of cold hearted selfishness on both sides, which mutually attracted them; and they symathised with each other in an insipid propriety of demeanour, and a general want of understanding". Ch 34 - Ouch.

Austen , in this early novel, uses this strong criiical approach to behaviour and communication to bring home her acute observations time and time again - but , of course in the end the good girls get the right husbands . But then also, the more selfish ones manage allright also - particularly if they have a good income. This work is possibly the most romantic of her novels yet spiced with the most acerbic observations of relationships, interdependence and enlightened self interest. A passage toward the end of the novel shows this intent very clearly . Lucy Steele ,a young woman of no fortune who needs to marry well , curries favour with her wealthier relatives and family acquaintances to get by and move in "Town" (London) circles .She successfully and surprisingly marries Robert Ferrars, a man of good income, by a circuitous and dubious route - much to the shock of most of the people who know her. The author summarises as follow and I quote:
"The whole of Lucy's behaviour in the affair, and the prosperity which crowned it, therefore, may be held forth as a most encouraging instance of what an earnest, an unceasing attention to self interest, however its progress may be apparently obstructed, will do in securing every advantage of fortune, with no other sacrifice than that of time and conscience" Ch 49. Ouch again.

I just love it - do you?

Going back to look at some of the other characters - First , the sisters Elinor and Marianne are central to the story . We have the opportunity to view their romances through a range of betrayals and misunderstandings to eventual successful marriages at the end of the book. Elinor is a typical Austen heroine - wise and her family's rock of sense. Marianne is lovely but with a little too much sensibilty although very kind hearted and bright . Mrs Dashwood senior, their mother , loves her family of three daughters unselfishly .We know very little about Margaret , her youngest daughter, mostly because she is not of marriagable age and therefore of no use to the storyline. Mrs Jennings , a would-be duenna with wealth to spare, is a great character who bubbles along talking and indulging in written communication continuously. Her misunderstandings are an important humorous element in the novel. There are a range of fairly cardboard cut-out men who have important associatve roles too in exemplifying mores of selfishness and occasionally , nobility.

I think you will be pleased with this book about a certain class of English country folk at a certain stage of society going about the important task of achieving and arranging marriages by one of the best novelsts ever. Love to hear your take which will be bound to be different from mine.

Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens

In June and July 2010 a dramatisation of the Charles Dickens novel Little Dorrit was shown on Australian television. The dramatisation was the work of Andrew Davis, famous in part for his dramatisation of Jane Austin's Pride and prejudice. Being based on a far more sombre work, Davis's Little Dorrit inevitably lacked the grace and good humour of his version of the Austin novel, but it produced several hours of very watchable television in a lavish production which generally adhered closely to the novel (though there were some fairly minor changes: Mrs Merdle, for example, is last seen in the television series amusingly planning a 'midlight flight' along with the daughter-in-law she despises, carrying what portable property she can salvage from the financal wreckage of her husband's bank. In the novel she settles into genteel poverty, accepted by High Society as a victim of a villainous husband.)

The novel originally appeared in monthly parts in 1856-57, when Dickens (1812-70) was at the height of his powers, but we encounter it now in a long volume (of over 850 pages in the Penguin edition). It was relatively unpopular when first published, being widely criticised for its somber tone and excessively complicated plot. More recently, however, several critics have argued it is among the finest of Dickens's novels, and even his best work. One doubts, nevertheless, that it is among the better loved or better known of his novels.

The novel is set, mainly in London but also in France and Italy, about 1825. The plot is elaborate, and the novel is in a real sense a mystery story. The plot opens in a prison, and prisons, particularly the London debtors's prison, the Marshalsea, figure prominently. Amy Dorrit, 'Little Dorrit', the eponymous heroine, initially appears as the daugher of a longterm Marshalsea prisoner. Imprisonment is in fact a major theme of the book, and we see that in all sectors of society, from high to low, among good and bad, people are prisoners. Little Dorrit's father and brother, Arthur Clennam, the novel's hero, and the villainous Rigaud, alias Blandois, are among those who are literally prisoners at one stage or other, but the fabulous wealthy financier Merdle, who generally holds himself as if he were being taken into custody, is clearly a prisoner of his own dishonesty and deception, and the fanatical religious puritain Mrs Clennam (who appears to be Arthurs' mother until late in the novel) is a prisoner both of her ill health, which apparently keeps her confined to one gloomy room, and of her gloomy and vengeful religiosity.

A great range of social classes and categories of people appear in the novel, and this vivid richness is one of the pleasures of reading it one hundred and fifty years after it was written. Dickens shows, sometimes in ways that stretch credulity, that quite unlikely people are related, sometimes by family ties, more often by sharing a common fate (as when the crash of the Merdle bank brings down high and low). The novel can indeed by sombre, particularly in its first half, sub-titled 'Poverty' and largely set among those living hand to mouth in the bottom rungs of society, but it can also be highly amusing and entertaining. The pretensions of those who pride themselves as being 'Society' are amusingly satirised. A well-known feature of the novel is the 'Circumlocution Office' a far more biting satire on the civil service of the time, presented as existing only to prevent anything useful being done in Britain and to feather the nests of the extended Barnacle family that controls it. (Opinions will probably differ, but for this reader the Circumlocution Office satire was rather heavy-handed and soon became unfunny and unconvincing.)

One cannot long consider the novel Little Dorrit without considering the character Little Dorrit. A small, frail young woman in her early twenties she is very much in the tradition of Dickens's blameless, meek and gentle, pure and noble heroines. We are told ad nauseum how small and how good Little Dorrit is. One might describe her as saintly, except that most real saints seem to have relatively flawed personalities by comparison (and, except in one melodramatic scene near the end, when she is confronted by the puritanical Mrs Clennam and utters some banal pieties, Little Dorrit is not portrayed as religious). The unrelentingly sentimentality lavished on Little Dorrit is probably a stumbling block for most modern readers, and given that other novelists of the period, such as the Brontes and George Eliot, were able to give their readers far more human female characters, it probably reflects Dickens's willingness to pander to the sentimentality of his mass audience (and perhaps his own curious ideas about ideal womanhood). It must also be said that the melodramatic ending of the novel is far from convincing, even if we take into account the belief of time in the reality of coincidence in human life.

Reading Little Dorrit is a major project, and not always an easy one. Dickens's prose is unfailingly graceful, except when he deliberately mades it otherwise for effect (as in Flora's amusing but also somewhat poignant monologues), but his sentences can make demands on us to which we are not now accustomed, and the sentimentality is offputting. But one does feel in the presence of a major work, and moments of real enjoyment are far from rare.