| Title | : | The Aunt's Story |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0099324016 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780099324010 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 288 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1948 |
Her ability to reconcile joy and sorrow is an unbearable torture to her. On the journey home, Theodora finds there is little to choose between the reality of illusion and the illusion of reality. She looks for peace, even if it is beyond the borders of insanity...
The Aunt's Story Reviews
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Θεοδώρα Γκούντμαν. Αυτή είναι η ιστορία της. Μια παράξενη κοπέλα που μεγαλώνει στη φάρμα του πατέρα της, σε κάποια μικρή, επαρχιακή πόλη της Αυστραλίας. Την θεωρούν αδέξια, άχαρη, άσχημη, παράξενη. Την φοβούνται και την περιφρονούν. Αλλά ταυτόχρονα την χρειάζονται γιατί έχει την ικανότητα να μπαίνει στα βαθύτερα στρώματα της ύπαρξής τους, γεμίζοντας τα κενά τους με κάτι που θα μπορούσε να είναι και αγάπη. Ό,τι κι αν είναι αυτό που διαθέτει η Θεοδώρα, είναι όμορφο. Και κάνει και τον κόσμο γύρω της όμορφο. Ακόμα κι όταν ο κόσμος φαντάζει τυφλός μέσα στην επιφανειακή του ρηχότητα, εκείνη μπορεί να ζει στη δική της μοναδική, εσωτερικευμένη διάσταση, επαναπροσδιορίζοντας βιωματικά όλα όσα υπάγονται στον χώρο του πραγματικού.
Η εναρκτήρια πρόταση του κειμένου μοιάζει να πιάνει το νήμα της ιστορίας από τη μέση: “But old Mrs Goodman did die at last”. Πρόκειται για τη μητέρα της Θεοδώρας, μια γυναίκα που συνοψίζει στο πρόσωπό της όλα τα μικροαστικά σύνδρομα της ανθρωπότητας. Σε όλη της ζωή χρειαζόταν την κόρη της και σε όλη της την ζωή την απέρριπτε, επιφυλάσσοντας την επιδοκιμασία για την άλλη της κόρη, τη Φάνυ, που είναι όμορφη και καλοπαντρεμένη με τρία παιδιά και έναν πλούσιο και δυνατό σύζυγο. Ωστόσο αυτή η οικογένεια έχει και άλλα μέλη που φαίνεται πως διαθέτουν την ίδια διάφανη και ρευστή υπόσταση της Θεοδώρας. Είναι ο πατέρας, ερωτευμένος με την ομηρική ελλάδα και τους ήρωές της (εξαιτίας της γυναίκας του δεν θα πατήσει ποτέ στην Ιθάκη που τόσο συχνά ονειρευόταν) και η μικρή ανιψιά, η Λου η οποία γίνεται η αφορμή για να ξετυλιχθεί το πρώτο μέρος της ιστορίας, πίσω, στο παρελθόν, σε ένα κτήμα που ο συγγραφέας ονομάζει Meroë. Ένα σπίτι απλό, στο χρώμα του ψημένου μπισκότου, πλαισιωμένο από μαύρους ηφαιστειογενείς λόφους κι έναν κήπο γεμάτο τριαντάφυλλα. Οι κήποι είναι το καταφύγιο της Θεοδώρας σε όλη της τη ζωή. Και τα τριαντάφυλλα είναι το σύμβολό της.
Από τα διάφορα επεισόδια που απαρτίζουν το νεανικό κομμάτι της ζωής της, ένα ιδιαίτερα χαρακτηριστικό είναι εκείνο με τον κεραυνό:
“Στα δωδέκατα γενέθλιά της, η μεγάλη βελανιδιά, στο μπροστινό μέρος του σπιτιού, χτυπήθηκε από κεραυνό κι η Θεοδώρα, από τρακόσιες γιάρδες απόσταση, πετάχτηκε στο έδαφος. Η Γκέρτυ (σσ. η υπηρέτρια της οικογένειας) είπε πως ήταν θεϊκή ενέργεια. Αλλά η Θεοδώρα σηκώθηκε μετά από αυτό το γεγονός, ήταν από εκείνα τα πράγματα που συμβαίνουν και που ήταν ακόμα αδύνατο να εξηγηθούν [...] Έτσι η Θεοδώρα σηκώθηκε και γέλασε αχνά, γιατί φυσικά είχε φοβηθεί και πήγε να δει ένα μοσχαράκι που μόλις είχε γεννηθεί”.
Τέτοιες ατμοσφαιρικές σκηνές, πολλές φορές, υπογραμμίζουν τη δράση του έργου και είναι αυτός ο συνδυασμός, μαζί με τους αποσπασματικούς διαλόγους και τους στοχασμούς που συχνά εκφράζονται με την μορφή αφορισμών (ή ακόμα και χρησμών), που βγάζει ένα μοναδικό τελικό αποτέλεσμα. Διάβασα στην εισαγωγή του Β. Καραλή (μεταφραστή ενός άλλου έργου του White με τίτλο “Βος”) πως ο συγγραφέας θεωρούσε ως δασκάλους του, τους D. H. Lawence, James Joyce και Marcel Proust. Η γλώσσα που χρησιμοποιεί έχει μια ιδιαίτερη ποιότητα που την καθιστά εξαιρετικά δύσκολη. Μου έδωσε την εντύπωση, γιατί διάβασα πρώτα το αγγλικό πρωτότυπο κι έπειτα την ελληνική μετάφραση του Σεραφείμ Βελέντζα (ο οποίος έχει κάνει μια τίμια, ομολογουμένως, προσπάθεια να αποδώσει το πρωτότυπο), πως πρόκειται για κάτι που έχει φτιαχτεί για να ξεγλιστράει και να διαφεύγει, ένα ¨γυάλινο στόμα” όπως αναφέρει ο συγγραφέας σε κάποιο σημείο. Έχει κάτι το αιθέριο και το γήινο ταυτόχρονα, ιδανικό για να περιγράψει τη ζωή μιας γυναίκας που το ίδιο της όνομα παραπέμπει τόσο στο θεϊκό (Theodora: Θείο Δώρο) όσο και στο ανθρώπινο στοιχείο (Goodman: Καλός Άνθρωπος). Έτσι λοιπόν η ανάγνωση αυτού του έργου απαιτεί υπομονή και εξοικείωση, διαφορετικά μπορεί να κουράσει. Κι αν κάποιος δεν απολαμβάνει αυτό το είδος γραφής, δεν θα μπορέσει, μοιραία, να μπει μέσα στην ιστορία και να εκτιμήσει την ομορφιά της.
Να σημειώσω πως ο White, ο οποίος είναι Αυστραλός και έχει βραβευτεί με βραβείο Νόμπελ Λογοτεχνίας στα 1973, έτρεφε μεγάλο ενδιαφέρον για την Ελλάδα, άλλωστε ο σύντροφος της ζωής του ήταν Έλληνας (Μανόλης Λάσκαρης) και συχνά επισκέπτονταν τη χώρα μας και πολλές από της εμπειρίες του τις περιγράφει σε ένα άλλο, αυτοβιογραφικό, έργο του (που θέλω να διαβάσω οπωσδήποτε) με τίτλο “Flaws in the Glass”. Έτσι δε�� είναι τυχαίο πως και σε ετούτο το μυθιστόρημα περιγράφονται δύο πολύ γοητευτικοί και συμπαθητικοί Έλληνες, ένας μουσικός, βιρτουόζος του τσέλου, ο Μωραΐτης, και μια μικρή δεκαεξάχρονη κοπέλα, η Κατίνα Παύλου.
“Με έβαλαν σε ένα δωμάτιο, είπε (σσ. ο Μωραΐτης) όπου δεν μπορώ να εξασκηθώ”. Οι λέξεις που έβρισκε στα ξαφνικά, εκφέρονταν με ακρίβεια. Αυτό τον έκανε να χαμογελάσει. “Είναι γεμάτο από έπιπλα”, είπε. “Δεν μπορώ να ζήσω σε ένα τέτοιο δωμάτιο. Χρειάζομαι γυμνά δωμάτια”.
“Λιτά”, είπε η Θεοδώρα Γκούντμαν.
“Λιτά;” είπε ο Έλληνας. “Γυμνός, είναι η λέξη για τις γυναίκες”.
“Μπορείς να το πεις κι έτσι”, είπε η Θεοδώρα.
“Λιτά”, χαμογέλασε ο Μωραΐτης με τη νέα του ανακάλυψη. Η Ελλάδα, ξέρεις, είναι μια λιτή χώρα. Μόνο κόκαλα”.
“Σαν το Meroë; είπε η Θεοδώρα.
“Τι;” είπε ο Μωραΐτης.
“Κι εγώ έρχομαι από έναν τόπο γεμάτο κόκαλα”.
“Αυτό είναι καλό”, είπε ο Μωραΐτης απαλά. “Έτσι βλέπεις ευκολότερα”.
Έσκυψε μπροστά με ανοιγμένα τα πόδια, το κορμί σκυφτό, αγκαλιάζοντας με τα μυώδη, ελληνικά του χέρια τα τεντωμένα του γόνατα. Η Θεοδώρα κοίταξε τα σκεπτόμενα χέρια του.
“Ξέρεις, είμαι χωρικός” είπε ο Μωραΐτης. “Έχω συναίσθηση του σχήματος του τόπου. Κατάγομαι από την Πελοπόννησο. Είναι ένας πλούσιος, παχύς, μαβής τόπος, αλλά από κάτω μπορείς να νιώσεις τα κόκαλα. Πολλοί άνθρωποι πέθαναν εκεί. Οι Έλληνες πεθαίνουν συχνά” είπε.
Όλη την ώρα σκεφτόταν με τα χέρια του, πορευόταν ψηλαφητά από το ένα αντικείμενο στο άλλο και τα δυο του χέρια πάλευαν μαζί, για να κατανοήσουν το μυστήριο του θανάτου.
“Οι Έλληνες είναι πιο ευτυχισμένοι όταν πεθαίνουν”, χαμογέλασε ο Μωραΐτης. “Τα μνημεία τους δεν απεικονίζουν αυτήν την μοίρα. Όλα τα ελληνικά μνημεία υπαινίσσονται τη συνέχεια της ζωής. Το Θέατρο στην Επίδαυρο, το Σούνιο, τα έχεις δει; Απόλυτη ζωή. Αλλά οι Έλληνες γεννιούνται για να πεθαίνουν”.
“Δεν τα έχω δει”, είπε Η Θεοδώρα. “Δεν έχω δει τίποτα.”
“Δεν είναι απαραίτητο να έχεις δει πράγματα”, είπε ο Μωραΐτης. “Αν γνωρίζεις”.
Στο δεύτερο μέρος του βιβλίου, μετά το θάνατο της μητέρας της, η Θεοδώρα βρίσκεται στην Ευρώπη, λίγο πριν το ξέσπασμα του Β΄ Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου. Στον εξωτικό κήπο ενός μικρού γαλλικού ξενοδοχείου, η ηρωίδα υπόκειται σε διάφορες μεταμορφώσεις και η γραφή αλλάζει, γίνεται ακόμα πιο ονειρική, αποσπασματική και αφηρημένη. Αντί για την τυπική γραμμική εξέλιξη του πρώτου μέρους, εδώ οι ήρωες, δηλαδή το προσωπικό του ξενοδοχείου και οι ιδιόρρυθμοι ένοικοί του αναμειγνύονται με το πρόσωπο της Θεοδώρας. Έτσι τη μία στιγμή η ηρωίδα βρίσκεται στην επανασταστική Ρωσία του 1917, την άλλη στην Αμερική των αρχών του 20ου αιώνα, την επόμενη σε ένα ελληνικό νησί, την στιγμή ενός σεισμού ή ενός ναυαγίου μετά στην αγγλική επαρχία του μεσοπολέμου κι έπειτα σε έναν γοτθικό πύργο κάπου στην Γερμανία και μετά επιστρέφει ξανά στον κήπο του ξενοδοχείου ή πάει με τους φίλους της σε ένα πικνικ πλάι στη θάλασσα. Πολλές σκηνές, πολλές ζωές, διαφορετικοί χαρακτήρες και στο τέλος ένα απροσδόκητο και συγκινητικό αποκορύφωμα. Βρήκα πως αυτή η αλλαγή στην τεχνική και τη ροή της διήγησης ήταν αναζωογονητική και ιδανική για το πέρασμα στο τρίτο και τελευταίο μέρος, το πιο σύντομο και το πιο βαθύ και συνασθηματικά φορτισμένο κομμάτι. Αλλά από διάφορες κριτικές διαπίστωσα πως πολλοί αναγνώστες δεν μπόρεσαν να το υποφέρουν, το θεώρησαν απροσπέλαστο, δυσνόητο και κουραστικό.
Όπως και να έχει, τον λάτρεψα αυτόν τον συγγραφέα. Με μεγάλη χαρά μάλιστα ανακάλυψα πως το έργο του με τίτλο “Βος” (Voss) έχει διασκευαστεί και σε όπερα από τον συνθέτη Richard Meale, την οποία θα ήθελα να ακούσω κάποια στιγμή. Θα διαβάσω σίγουρα και τα άλλα του έργα. Είναι κρίμα που φαίνεται κάπως ξεχασμένος και παραμελημένος στην εποχή μας. Διαφορετικά πιστεύω πως θα τον είχα ανακαλύψει νωρίτερα. -
what did I just read? I actually don't understand what happened to her, did she die? did she go mad? did she even exist? what the fuck.
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I've never read a Patrick White novel that I liked after the first read. Nevertheless, White is one of my favourite writers.
I originally gave this book two stars, totally disappointed: I couldn't believe I'd just read something by Patrick White.. but then, of course, it is one of his earlier works. However, the second time I felt that I was reading something completely new. I was hearing White's poetical prose clearly this time.
As in all the White I've read, only with a return to the book did the real beauty of the composition come to the fore. Patrick White is a challenging writer because the reader must be deeply focused on what he or she is reading. You can't just pick up a White novel and let the story take you. The beauty of White is in the style, not the narrative itself. On the one hand he is alientating and deconstructing the narrative he presents, continually distracting the reader from what is being said by allowing the outer world context to seep into or clash hard against the scene he is presenting. For White, the world itself is his chorus, constantly chiming in to reveal a subliminal,deeper meaning to the trivial. In this way White places the meaninglessness of the mundane within the deeper, metaphysical meaning of the embracing universe. Aunt's Story is no exception... and it deserves at least a second try. -
An interesting, intelligent, character based, compassionate, sympathetic, sometimes tragic novel about Theodora Goodman, a lonely middle aged woman. She begins her travels from rural NSW, Australia, in the 1930s, traveling to France after the death of her mother, then on to the USA. Theodora comes across as strange and awkward. She is an empathetic woman. The reader learns what is happening around Theodora and within her.
Theodora has a sister, Fanny. Fanny has a son, Frank Parrott. Theodora, whilst deemed not to be a beautiful young woman, does have the opportunity to marry.
As with all Patrick White novels, the characters are rich, fully and sympathetically described. This is my second reading and I enjoyed the novel even more. A very worthwhile, moving reading experience.
This book was first published in 1948 and is the author’s third novel. -
"But on a morning the colour of zinc old Mrs Goodman died."
Patrick White's novel The Eye of the Storm which I read over 40 years ago is one of the books I love the most, one that touched me in the strongest way possible and made me realize that great literature is the apex of all arts, encompassing both beauty and truth. Of course I need to re-read it, but the 600-page volume intimidates me. So instead I decided for now to read shorter works by Mr. White, the Nobel Prize winner for literature in 1973. And I am ecstatic that I chose The Aunt's Story (1948), one of the earliest books by Mr. White. I am completely in awe of the magnificent prose and so very happy to assign the rare highest rating.
The novel, divided into three parts, relates the story of one woman's dissolution of identity and her descent into madness. We meet Theodora Goodman as a fiftyish spinster, an aunt to her sister's children. The first part recounts Theodora's childhood and youth. The story is so beautifully told that I was unable to put the book away. Theodora is a disappointment to her mother, the "old Mrs. Goodman" because she was an odd, sallow, and ugly child, and has not fulfilled the mother's hopes. Theo's pretty sister, Fanny, leads a comfortable and utterly conventional life. Theo takes care of Fanny's children and also of her aging mother. As she is socially awkward and unattractive, men are not interested in her; only one man courts her but he probably needs her only as yet another item on the long list of his material possessions. The closest she gets to love is when she has an epiphany of sorts during a concert of a Greek cellist - a sublimation of her needs to be close to another person.
The dreamlike, phantasmagoric second part of the novel takes place in Hôtel du Midí somewhere in Europe where Theo goes after her mother's death. She meets a number of strange and interesting characters in the Jardin Exotique at the hotel. Or does she? The hallucinatory atmosphere of unreality is so overwhelming that the reader will be right to ask whether all these people exist only within Theo's mind. Of course she herself may not know whether they are real. The boundary between her consciousness and the so-called real world has disappeared. The third part takes place somewhere in the United States, where Theodora is in the final stage of her journey into madness. Unable to adapt to any conventional norms of society she disposes of the last components of her external identity.
While the story is powerful and deeply affecting, it is the phenomenal prose that made a tremendous impression on me. Virtually on every page the reader will find a delicious nugget of truth packaged in a wrapping of stunningly original prose. In my long years I have never read a book so rich in fresh and vivid metaphors and metonyms. The following is one of the most extraordinary paragraphs of prose that I have ever read:"All through the middle of America there was a trumpeting of corn. Its full, yellow, tremendous notes pressed close to the swelling sky. There were whole acres of time in which the yellow corn blared as if for judgement. It had taken up and swallowed all other themes, whether belting iron, or subtler, insinuating steel, or the frail human reed. Inside the movement of corn the train complained. The train complained of the frustration of distance, that resists, that resists. Distance trumpeted with corn."
(After the five-star rating I include three other fragments of Patrick White's breathtaking prose.) The novel is exactly 70 years old yet it does not feel dated at all. It could have been written last year. It reads completely fresh despite references to Hitler's annexations of countries in the 1930s or to Lenin and Kerensky from the times of the Soviet Revolution of 1917.
A magnificent novel!
Five stars.
"In Paris the metal hats just failed to tinkle. The great soprano in Dresden sang up her soul for love into a wooden cup. In England the beige women, stalking through the rain with long feet and dogs, had the monstrous eye of sewing machines."
"But Theodora did not reject the word. It flowed, violet and black, and momentarily oyster-bellied through the evening landscape, fingering the faces of the houses. Soon the sea would merge with the houses, and the almost empty asphalt promenade, and the dissolving lavender hills behind the town. So that there was no break in the continuity of being."
"She walked out through the passages, through the sleep of other people. She was thin as grey light, as if she had just died." -
When I first tried to read Patrick White at the age of 19 I simply could not relate - to the language, the precision of the writing and most of all the concepts explored. Now at the age of 38 I have ventured back by reading this book. It was a delight to read.. the character development of Theodora Goodman over a period of time is incredibly rich and layered. What I found interesting was what she felt as a younger woman, the feeling of not fitting in, the deep set inner knowledge that she would always be 'the aunt'. Early on she states.. "this thing, a spinster, she sometimes mused, considering her set mouth; this thing a spinster which, becomes that institution of an aunt" . She contemplates a feeling that I suspect many in that era felt. That feeling is carried through the book. Her slow descent into abstraction, self exploration and ultimately alienation from her past is a rather sad, yet strangely strong embodiment of character.
I found the middle section of the book, set in pre-war France, slightly difficult at first but the last section of the book clearly brings that setting and exploration into context. I will read more Patrick White, but armed with the awareness of his complexity, his belief in the human individuality and the depth of the often unexpressed private world. -
The literary equivalent of micro-dropping LSD at a dinner party hosted by conservative distant relatives.
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The slow fall of madness
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I hated it. A perfect example of someone writing complete nonsense, then trying to pass it off as symbolic, meaningful and groundbreaking. None of his artistic choices were justifiable. It was a mess just because it could be. I have no idea why they gave this guy a Nobel Prize for literature, he'd have been better off with a knock about the head. His writing is senseless and obnoxious. Having to finish it was like wading through a swamp, his style was so dense. I even had to get google translate out because half of it was is goddamn french, and for no good reason, either. A complete waste of time.
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It would be easy to say that this was about a daughter who lives in the shadow of her pretty sister, ends up looking after their mother until the latter dies, then travels to Europe from Australia, and after that goes to America, but that would only touch on what this book is about. Patrick White is an amazing writer, sometimes I haven't a clue what's going on, but I love his books.
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Pretentious. Boring. I'll never get that time back.
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the aunt's story rejects any holistic understanding, if one comes at it searching for one the book will fall apart. theodora is searching, and falls apart, but it is in the falling apart that she reaches a sort of understanding. everything is fragments, there are innumerable fragments of truth that do not synthesise into a whole. often time they contradict each other, but they are still true. in many ways that is how you know they are true.
whitman says:
"Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)"
it is very hard to write about patrick white, especially the aunt's story. white does not trust language, he rejects its claims to precision outright. if we are to uncover a truth, it will not be through words. he is a novelist who claims he is "hobbled by words," this is not a claim he makes out of perversity.
i do believe there is truth in the aunt's story. it is, of course, a novel. an accumulation of words. here is perhaps white's defining paradox. it is something i do not yet understand. i have a working theory that keeps my feet on the ground: white's writing offers a purely intuitive connection to those who it touches. when theodora touches the transcendental the reader does not touch it through white's description. they touch it through an implicit understanding, a connection to moments when they too have touched it.
this is vague because white's world is vague. he is constantly circling around the truth to get a better look. but the truth is ultimately untouchable. the moments when we do touch it, as theodora does several times, we are unable to rationally understand it. but regardless, you know, and it is impressed on you forever. -
A very odd little book, as if Henry James and D. H. Lawrence had collaborated on a miniature Magic Mountain*, then given it an Australian bildungsroman opening section for no very obvious reason. Does that appeal to anyone? I presume not.
Despite which, I'm really looking forward to re-reading this. White does things with words that are literally (in the literal, figurative, literal sense of literal) incredible, and the second section, in which our heroine and/or one of her friends goes insane, is a masterpiece. But it's a masterpiece that I didn't realize was a masterpiece until the section had ended, and at times it felt very, very pointless. The opening section, which describes aunt Theodora's childhood, is also a bit cliched: the 'different' young girl has trouble fitting in and so on.
But re-reading will solve these problems. I suspect that if you know from the outset what's happening, you'll find A'sS enjoyable and moving.
*: does anyone else think Patrick White looked an awful lot like Thomas Mann? -
I really loved this book but it's not a one-read book. It will take another read in a few years for me to understand it all. The thing I loved most is how White drops little bombs of diamonds along the way. He expects us, as readers, to keep up with him and even though I am quite a good reader, I had some troubled spots. But he would throw me a little hook baited with something sweet every so often to peek my interest again. I look forward to reading more of his books. He feels like that old grouchy uncle that you just can't help but love. I really pity those of you who have read all of his books and won't have the delight of the first read again (even tho I will be one of you and will find solace in reading them all for the second time).
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I don't think I can rate this at the moment. It was hard to follow and understand, and only some parts of what was being told to me were made clear. Part 1 caught my attention, while Part 2 lost it completely and Part 3 drew me back in somewhat.
I'll appreciate it more when I know more, but as a reader the style was simply not enjoyable for me. -
An early work that shows White's promise, but is not one of his masterpieces. If I recall, there are two sections here, written at different times, which do not totally mesh.
However, it is hard to find fault with White. It's only by comparing this book to his others that it pales. -
Our first book club selection. None of us made it through.
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KILL ME HOLY SHIT. I had to play "you're the best around" song after it took me a week to finish it. Again, this is another book where you have to be smart & have no life to read it
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This is literally so great, and the more I think of it and the more I deconstruct my analysis the more I love it. Patrick White, you genius.
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Great book, not only because I'm an aunt, but because of the well written prose and surprises in sentence construction.
Meroë
She thought of the narrowness
of the limits within which a
human soul may speak and be
understood by its nearest of
mental kin, of how soon it
reaches that solitary land of the
individual experience, in which
no fellow footfall is ever heard.
- Olive Schreiner
Death, said Father, lasts for a long time.
Fanny asked the questions that had answers.
The red eye spoke of worlds that were brief and fierce.
To walk inside one of the dark rooms in which Miss Spofforth lived, to sit among the dark, sponged plants, to say: If I could give expression to something that is in me, but which I have not yet hunted down.
"Have you ever been in love?"
"No, but it isn't necessary," said Violet. "Not if you have the feeling."
"Now that I am the mother of two young women, I can enjoy the luxury of growing old."
Sometimes Theodora, now that some of the pieces of the puzzle had begun to slide into place, wondered at the unaccountability of human nature, why Father should have married Mother, or Mother Father.
Nausicaä is a character in Homer's Odyssey. She is the daughter of King Alcinous (Αλκίνοος, Alkínoös) and Queen Arete of Phaeacia. Her name, in Greek, means "burner of ships"
Theodora remembered the picture, and sometimes wondered at what point the illusion of the individual will had succumbed to the universal dream.
"Theodora is wearing herself to a shad," confided Mrs. Goodman.
Dear Mr. Clarkson,
If you will forgive my failure to accept, I would like to come when you suggest.
Theodora Goodman
Huntly knew that the door had closed. This, perhaps, was the extent of his relationship with Theodora Goodman. She closed doors, and he was left standing in his handsome mahogany interior, which was external, fatally external, outside Theodora Goodman's closed door.
"Why must I take, take? It is not possible to possess things with one's hands."
I shall be surprised if you do not find it tempting. - With love from Lou
"How did you feel
When you captured your ideel?"
There are alternatives, but no choices.
Hôtel du Midi
There is perhaps no more complete a reality than a chair and a table. Still there will always also be people
And a man said, "Je regrette que vous attendiez, Mademoiselle. Il n'ya rien de plus ennuyeaux."
"On the contrary," said Theodora, "it is sometimes enjoyable just to sit."
It is strange, and why are we here?
"I guess we have to be somewhere," replied Mrs. Rapallo.
When I look into your eye I can see myself. That is why you are so necessary to my existence.
The eye reduces as well as intensifies.
Love is undoubtedly an acrostic.
Boredom is a motive force which we are apt to overlook. All things spring from boredom, said Sokolnikov.
"You are an odious and repulsive glutton."
There was a gingerbread heart on which Theodora read: Ich liebe dich - in dust or sugar
I think I am right in saying of love that the most one can expect is the logical conclusion
Not that one does not continue to hope. I am obsessed.
Yes, you will continue, Theodora laughed. You will love your obsession. You will love the faces of mirrors. You will love your own anxiety.
When your life is most real,
to me you are mad - Olive Schreiner
My dear Fanny
I am writing to say that I have seen and done, and the time has come at last to return to Abyssinia.
I cannot say when I shall be with you, but probably sometime in the spring, that is, of course, your Abyssinian spring...
She had a lot to tell. She would not ask much, but she would tell.
Theodora remembered how at the time she had been infused with a warmth of love that was most thinly separated from expectation of sorrow.
They are very thinly divided indeed. In fact, you might say that expectation of happiness is expectation of sorrows. The separating membrane is negligible. Holstius said.
You cannot reconcile joy and sorrow, Holstius said. Or flesh and marble, or illusion and reality, or life and death. For this reason, Theodora Goodman, you must accept. And you have already found that one constantly deludes the other into taking fresh shapes so that there is sometimes little to choose between the reality of illusion and the illusion of reality. Each of your several lives is evidence of this.
It has been interesting, she said, and at times lovely.
"It has been? It is, Holstius said. Your sense of permanence is perverted, as it is in most people. We are too inclined to consider the shapes of flesh that loom up at us out of mirrors and because they do not continue to fit like gloves, we take fright and assume that permanence is a property of pyramids and suffering. But true permanence is a state of multiplication and division. As you should know, Theodora Goodman. Faces inherit features. Thought and experience are bequeathed.
For this reason, Theodora Goodman did not thank, or think much more about Holstius. In the act that she was performing, waking up the slow hill towards the house, his moral support was assured. Now his presence was superfluous. -
The Aunt’s Story is divided into three sections. The first section, ‘Meroé’ recalls Theodora Goodman’s life in Australia from her period as a young girl until her mother’s death, which finally frees her to live a life of her own. The second section. ‘Jardin Exotique’ covers Theodora’s time in France, living in the Hôtoel du Midi with a cast of strange guests. The title of this part refers to the cactus garden attached to the hotel. The third, shortest section, ‘Holstius’, narrates the period after Theodore leaves the hotel to return to Australia, but instead decides to leave her train to head into the hills of New Mexico.
Having previously read several Patrick White novels (Riders in the Chariot, The Tree of Man, Voss and The Twyborn Affair) I was perplexed to find myself somewhat disengaged with this one. My problem with the novel came in the second part, which is strangely disjointed and sometimes confusing. My initial impressions, as I backtracked and reread sections, searching for narrative clues to explain the disconnected progressions from one scene to another, was that the book was experimental, obscure and possibly weakened by a lack of a compelling (or coherent) narrative: that the second part of the book is possibly not connected to the first part of the story. There may be some justification in this. White used an unpublished novel as the basis of The Aunt’s Story, so one might argue that this accounts for the jarring differences in the first and second parts of the novel.
My initial impressions seem common. I found with a quick search on the internet, that there was a shared feeling of dismay among many readers, of boredom and even antipathy. However, I was also intrigued by other readers who thought the book brilliant. Added to their voices is the appraisal of American reviewers who, at the time of the book’s publication, heaped praise upon it. Here, in Australia, White’s home country, however, the book was mostly met with indifference. It sold poorly. It was eventually remaindered. In fact, it didn’t do well until a decade later when White had made his reputation with subsequent novels like The Tree of Man and Voss. White felt despondent over The Aunt’s Story’s reception in his home land and felt discouraged to write. The Aunt’s Story had been his first book in over five years. He had served in the Air Force in Europe during World War II, and had written nothing but factual correspondence during that time.
The first part of the novel is an engaging character study. The first sentence is easy to underestimate because of its succinctness: But old Mrs Goodman did die at last. Immediately we sense the relief that her death brings, its long anticipation, the long-withered relationship and the interminable wait suggested by that But. In that first sentence we already understand that this will be a story of an adult child who will now face the challenge of living an independent life. After the first chapter – once Theodora’s sister and brother-in-law arrive with their three children – the story returns to Theodora’s own childhood and its sense of isolation and rejection, her period in school, and her emerging awareness that she must take a place in the world, if not following the expectations placed upon her to be a wife, then something else; an aunt. And finally, the narrative develops the slowly developing antipathy between Theodora and her mother, leading to her mother’s eventual death. It’s an identifiable story and it is told with skill.
But The Aunt’s Story soon breaks with the conventions of factual writing and linear narrative and alternates between fact and fantasy, illusion and reality in its second section. Theodore Goodman, having broken free of the conventions of her small life in Australia – looking after her mother and avoiding marriage to unsuitable men – is finally free to make herself when she travels to Europe. I would say that this is a unifying theme within the novel; that of identity. Theodora’s sense of self has been eroded by her domineering mother. Theodora is the ugly one, her sister Fanny, lovely. Theodora remains a spinster while her sister marries Frank Parrott, the man Theodora is secretly drawn to. Theodora bangs the keys of the keyboard in her own way while Fanny plays beautifully. Meanwhile, Theodora’s accomplishments – she is a crack shot with a rifle – are derided by her mother. But as readers, we are encouraged to side with Theodora. It is Theodora who has the dark eyes with the unanswerable questions while her sister would always ask the questions that have answers; answers that could have been found at the back of the book. This first section of the novel, as much as it is about anything, reveals a character yet unformed. Unlike sculpture, fixed in position, Theodora’s identity is like music, flowing and everchanging.
White’s resistance against pressure to change the title – his American publishers wanted to call it ‘Theo’s Story’ – is revealing of the issue of identity. If Theodora is not a wife, she is at least an aunt to Lou, her sister’s daughter, and later to Katina at the Hôtoel du Midi, who asks her to accept that role. The story is largely about Theodora’s becoming. When she attends Spafforth’s finishing school in the first section of the novel we are told Thedora Goodman had begun to take shape but her inexperience makes her incomplete. When she looks into the mirror, she sees a face to which nothing had yet happened, it could not take its final shape. It was a vessel waiting for experience to fill it, and then the face finally would show. In the later part of the novel Holstius, a man who is seemingly a creation of Theordora’s own mind, tells her:We are too inclined to consider the shapes of flesh that loom at us out of mirrors, and because they do not continue to fit like gloves, we take fright and assume that permanence is a property of pyramids and suffering. But true permanence is a state of multiplication and division. As you should know, Theodora Goodman. Faces inherit features. Thought and experience are bequeathed.
It is this problem of identity and experience I believe which makes the middle section of the novel a difficult read. White’s narrative now changes. No longer is it a relatable plot but now a lived experience; the subjective experience and response of Theodora’s relationship with the people of the hotel and the wider backdrop of the second World War. David Marr, White’s biographer, sums it up nicely:Theodora becomes the people she encounters. The writing shifts from the present to the past, from lives lived to lives imagined by the exiles in the hotel. Theodora Goodman discovers, invents and enters their lives, drawing on her small store of experience and a deep well of intuition.
This is the challenge of the second part of the novel. From the conventional narrative of the first part the reader is now immersed in a disorientating narrative ......
My review is too long for Good Reads. If you want to read the complete review, use the following link:
https://readingproject.neocities.org/... -
Patrick White's The Aunt's Story is one of the most beautiful books I've ever read, but it's also - without a doubt - one of the most pretentious books I've ever read. It's full illiterate verbal sludge and overly ambitious nonsense. However, I'm glad I read it, I would suggest that you only read this if you already have an interest in Modernist literature and a lot of time on your hands.
If you do decide to start reading this book though, there are some things you should keep in mind:
- White was highly influenced by Modernists like Virginia Woolf (you should probably read To the Lighthouse before tackling The Aunt's Story. They're both very similar.)
- Abyssinia was previously Ethiopia
- Yellow was often used around (and before) this time to represent sickness (see: The Yellow Wallpaper)
- The book is structured in 3 parts:
1: realist but symbolic
2: stream-of-consciousness (very abstract - keep in mind it is mostly symbolic)
3: A combination of the two (surrealist?), if you make it to the end it synthesises the story very well, stick with it! -
The Aunt's Story is going to stay with me for some time. Not just because of the haunting ending that makes me want to revisit and reread several sections, but also for the stunning literary presentations of intimate relationships and Theodora's intensely private world. I like her!
I will admit to struggling with some sections, in particular where there's a lot of un-translated French dialogue. This is one of those books that is a success for its character journey and literary genius, not for exciting plot. Really, little happens and you will need to concentrate.
That said, Patrick White seems to have a rare ability to see under the surfaces of daily interactions and get straight, painfully, to the heart of deeper motivations, agendas and psychological needs - from the way we navigate fleeting interactions, to manifestations of ongoing personal pain. And he does it often with such swift beauty I found myself re-reading in wonder (and then noting down!) many of his phrases. This is what the writing of a Nobel Prize winner looks like. -
I must confess to falling slightly in love with this intricate, weird and wonderful prose. Of course the entire middle section, Jardin Exotique, is a big interpretive question. Does Theodora Goodman achieve some transcendental understanding of the world around her, or does she succumb to schizophrenia after travelling around alone? The thing is, it doesn't really matter. It is the kind of novel that one reads slowly, in a kind of suspension, and only afterward letting out a held breath.
I read this novel for a research project I'm doing on Patrick White; I will read two others this semester. It's a good start. -
Patrick White's third novel meditates on age and sanity. The story of a spinster's descent into dementia, it's at times - well, not so much challenging, but just tedious - but the ending is well worth the journey.
More experimental in some passages than other of White's works, but ultimately quite fulfilling. Theodora Goodman is a fairly sympathetically-drawn character, and it's with mixed emotions she is farewelled. -
Audiobook: An insightful story about a girl (Theodora Goodman) growing into being an eccentric Aunt. Theodora doesn't follow conventions - she does not tread the usual paths and is treated poorly at times (and kindly by others) as a consequence. Interesting discussions in a small French boarding house take a fair section of the novel. This novel shows why Patrick White got a Nobel for literature.
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A harsh rating here because I did not enjoy this so much. There were some great moments and stunning concepts and great writing in parts but the overall conceit was too ambitious and an endurance to read. You can, however, play the great Patrick White drinking game; everytime something is described as fleshy (on averge every 30 pages) take a shot. With a 300 page novel you will be a fleshy puddle before long.
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White takes you into Theodora's physical world then drops you down the rabbit hole and through the warren of her inner world; provocative and evocative. I read this many years ago and the memory of Theodora endures.
