asandwich

Oh, this book.

You know, I don’t think that I have the ability to express myself adequately enough to really convey exactly how much I enjoyed reading this book. It seems to me, as I sit here right now, pretty ludicrous to even try. But, nonetheless, I’m just going to start typing away and see what happens. Maybe I’ll get even slightly close, who knows?

With this novel, it’s all about the layers, you see. We start with the fairly intriguing (but not particularly exciting) premise of a low-ranking literary scholar by the name of Roland Mitchell, whose main field of study is the celebrated Victorian poet Randolph Henry Ash (Ash is a fictional poet, but seems to very closely resemble Lord Tennyson). The life and works of Ash have been chronicled and studied by the literary world to the point that it seems that there’s little left to discover, until Roland accidentally uncovers a handwritten draft of a note of admiration from Ash to an unknown woman. As Ash was believed to be happily married for the entirety of his adult life, this obviously strikes Roland as possibly being something of huge value and importance to the literary field. However, rather than taking his findings immediately to the head of his department at the British Library, he does the unthinkable: overcome with a sense of curiosity to discover something no one else ever has, he attempts to unravel the mystery himself. Roland quickly learns that Ash is somehow linked to Christabel LaMotte, a rather obscure (also fictional) Victorian writer, dubbed ‘The Fairy Poetess’, which leads him from London to Lincoln and into the office of Dr. Maud Bailey, a LaMotte scholar at the Lincoln Resource Centre for Women’s Studies. LaMotte never married and, due to her living with fellow female artist Blanche Glover for many years (and all the possible connotations that could entail) has been adopted as a mascot of sorts for Women’s Studies scholars. Maud agrees to help Roland with his search for answers, understanding that a sudden revelation of an affair between the two poets could turn the understanding and interpretations of both poet’s lives and works completely on their head. From here, Roland and Maud follow an ever-growing paper trail up to the North Yorkshire coast, and eventually across the English Channel to Brittany in an attempt to uncover the whole truth of Ash and LaMotte’s secret, whilst attempting to stay one step ahead of fellow scholars who gradually begin to suspect that the two are on to something big.

Without spoiling anything, that’s the plot in a nutshell. And nutshell it most certainly is, because upon removing that layer, we can get to the sweet-meats beneath.

The letters that Roland and Maud discover on their travels between Ash and LaMotte begin to paint a vivid picture of two people, at first merely curious, then fascinated, before finally becoming totally besotted with one another. The letters form the basis of what isn’t so much a sub-plot, but the very heart and soul of the novel. The story of Ash and LaMotte is the real story here, and Byatt does an exceptional job of fleshing out these characters almost entirely from their letters to each other. Both poets have very distinct and very different styles of writing which, thanks to Byatt’s meticulously considered prose, breathes so much life into these characters that, at times, you’d think that they were real. You want them to have been real. I did, at least.

And then we have the poetry. Scattered throughout the novel are poems from both poets, whose styles and subjects differ greatly, but offer up so much evidence to the thoughts, feelings and inspirations of both of these long-dead characters, particularly regarding one another. The amount of sheer effort - the research and incredible attention to detail - that had to go into writing this novel just leaves me floored. Byatt has left so many extra clues and minutiae that can be cross-referenced; it’s incredible to think that pretty much all of the poetry in this novel was written only for the purpose of subtly delivering further exposition.

Byatt is particularly scathing towards literary institutions throughout the novel, and the overarching theme asks the question of whether we have the right to go digging through the private correspondences of people who led notable lives, and if one hundred and fifty year old secrets shouldn’t stay buried.

I still don’t feel like I’m doing this book the justice it deserves and I doubt that I ever could. It is a work of brilliance - both beautiful and tragic. Sometimes light-hearted, sometimes utterly heart-rending. It won’t be for everyone; but if you’re willing to put in the time and effort to give this book your full attention, you may just fall in love.