Literary reviews by Tim Love.
Warning: Rather than reviews, these are often notes in preparation for reviews that were never finished, or pleas for help with understanding pieces. See Litref Reviews - a rationale for details.
Showing posts with label Colm Toibin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Colm Toibin. Show all posts

Wednesday, 24 May 2023

"The magician" by Colm Toibin

An audio book

Begins slowly, though that impression may be because it's an audio book. When Thomas Mann's father dies in Lubeck, the will shows that the father had no faith in his sons continuing the business. His mother (Brazilian, arty, exotic) goes to Munich with Thomas's older brother Heinrich who's been allowed to become a writer. Thomas has to continue school (where he writes poems to/for boys - his love isn't always unrequited) then has to get a job. He writes, goes to Munich, gets his first novel published (it's about an old family in Lubeck). It's a success.

He marries Katia, whose maths prof father inherited a lot of money. She's clever, small breasted and strong legged, like a boy. She's a twin, and he writes a story about twins and Jews. Some of their friends like/know Wagner, some prefer/know Mahler. His sister, a poor actress kills herself. He writes "Death in Venice", asks Katia whether he should publish it. They have several children but he doesn't know whether she knows he's gay. Katia goes into a sanitorium. He visits. She asks how the children are getting on. He tells her. She says that's how they were when she left, but he's only noticed now. He's examined. He has to stay too. He gathers material for "The Magic Mountain". They both recover. Views on world war I split the family. His children have degenerate views about sex - openly bisexual - and into drugs. One of his daughters marries Auden. He doesn't want to win the Nobel prize because news of the money will attract poor people to him. He does want to be too anti-Nazi in case they confiscate his property and is nasty to his family. He escapes to Switzerland but his dairies (in which he wrote that he once found his son's body exciting) are still in Germany. He gets them back. He sleeps alone. His children see him at meals.. nicknaming him The Magician.

People re-interpret his novels. "Death in Venice" was once thought symbolic (the death of civilisation) then a book dealing (before its time) with gay love.

He's invited to live at Princeton. He does a lot of public speaking. Einstein propositions Katia. His sense of nationhood is confused. Family gatherings become political games. In public too he's careful about roles. He's invited to the Whitehouse. A family photo opportunity (with Auden, his son-in-law) is carefully managed. Katia blames German citizens, not just Hitler.

He lives in California. Schoenberg is there. Mann writes a novel, "Faustus", about a composer who invents 12-tone and gets syphilis. He needs real life in his novels like a ship needs ballast, but it's always got him into trouble. He wishes he could produce pure art.

A son overdoses. He and Katia don't go to the funeral. Another son sends him a letter saying neither he or Katia have been good parents. If he visits East Germany, the States will disown him. Some West Germans think him a deserter. He decides to settle in Switzerland.

Other reviews

Saturday, 2 May 2015

"The Testament of Mary" by Colm Toibin (Viking, 2012)

In about 100 pages without chapter breaks we get Mary's first person PoV in a style reminiscent of Jim Crace's. She's old, and being "looked after" by two men who pester her for anecdotes. She doesn't comply, threatening to kill them if they sit on a chair that reminds her of Joseph. She thought the disciples a band of misfits. Her eye-witness accounts normalize the miracles. Lazarus was a childhood friend. She remembers that afterwards he was "moving as though his spirit was still filled with the thunderous novelty of its own great death, like a pitcher of sweet water filled to the brim, heavy with itself" (p.42).

She's a loose cannon. She doesn't even want to provide sound-bites, preferring to describe scenes in full. She knows how things will happen - "It will not be long maybe when I begin again to dream that I waited on the hill that day and held him naked in my arms, it will not be long before that dream, so close to me now and so real, will fill the air and will make its way backwards into time and thus become what happened" (p.87). At the end of the book she's told that she "held his body when it was taken down from the cross" (p.101). Actually she fled the crucifixion scene early to save herself. He remained her son rather than the son of God.

On p.69 it says "I noticed this hunger spreading like contagion until I believed that it had reached every single person there just as blood pumped from the heart makes its way inexorably to every part of the body" which might be an anachronism.

I didn't get much from the book. Maybe it should have been a short story.

Other reviews

  • Mary Gordon (New York Times)
  • Michele Roberts (Independent)
  • Isabel Berwick (Financial Times)
  • Alex Clark (Guardian)
  • Jon Pinsker (The Atlantic) (The Catholic World Report ... though it ... spends most of its time getting ruffled about the blasphemy of Tóibín’s work, it does contain an important bit of truth: “Colm Tóibín’s book won’t tell you anything about Mary. It will tell you plenty about its very sad and very angry author.” In other words, Tóibín might be putting his own words into Mary’s mouth less to evoke the state of her soul than to expound some of his own views. There’s enough self-aware winking in the text to suggest that Tóibín’s real interest lies in exploring a narrative’s inability to capture the truth.)

Friday, 17 April 2009

"Mothers and Sons" by Colm Toibin (Picador, 2006)

The pieces are between 3000 and 18000 words long. They're all short stories in the sense that they're single viewpoint, single issue pieces. But because of their length they often move slower than many a novel. They're linear, often unsurprizing (even predicting their own endings) with a limited amount of short-story compression.

At the end of "The Use of Reason" the main character thinks of burning the Rembrandt he'd stolen because selling it is a hassle. That he doesn't consider leaving it somewhere may be related to the fact that it's a portrait of a "sour old woman" and he's just found out that his mother's loose-tongued when drunk. She's often drunk. The narrative is structured around a secret plan executed step by step. "The Name of the Game" is similarly shaped.

All but one of the stories is set in Eire. There are mothers who were singers, and several wakes with musings on how dead faces correspond to living ones. It's sometimes a new Eire, with Euros, e-mail, burning CDs, and gay raves. I liked reading them, even the ones loaded with inevitability. The final story ends well - like many of the other endings it arrives once you can guess the rest of the story.