“The Country Life” by Rachel Cusk

This book was written a lifetime ago. (1997!). I've enjoyed (and been impressed by) Cusk’s more recent books, and was surprised to find that this one (her third published novel, though weirdly her second is not listed on the "Also by Rachel Cusk" page of this book) is a more typical novel than her later work. That said, I would definitely not classify it as garden-variety.

While The Country Life was unexpectedly different from The Outline Trilogy, it was no less good. The narration felt stiff and formal and quite British, worthy of a classic to stand the test of time. The characters were quirky and interesting (but thankfully, believably so).There were mysteries, some of which were never truly solved, and stories half-told and half-understood, and secrets merely glimpsed, and desires considered and abandoned. Nothing was as it should be and everything was as it could be, with a bizarre undercurrent through it all. 

The story starts with Stella Benson hurriedly preparing for her journey from London to the English countryside where she has been hired as an au pair for a wealthy farming family with a wheelchair-bound son. Foreshadowing as we meet the family makes it seem like she ends up spending ages with them, but as it turns out, the plot only covers one week in time. We are graced with Cusk's trademark introspection and brief shades of the deep conversations that form the substance of her later books, but in TCL these are a smaller part in the larger framework of more typical settings, characters and plot. 

What I enjoyed most about this book was the situational humor, in a so-awkward-it's-funny kind of way. I think quite possibly Rachel Cusk would be horrified to hear this, but at times Stella made me think of Bridget Jones--not only because she kept finding herself in mortifying situations, but because she seemed only able to make things worse. I read with mingled vicarious shame and relief that it wasn't me. 

Why has no one adapted this book for the screen? I would totally watch a TV series of The Country Life. I think it would be like a funnier and more normal-seeming Gormenghast. 

"Second Place" by Rachel Cusk

I liked this less than other books by Cusk that I've read. I somehow found it less easy to identify with or engage with. It's the story of a middle-aged woman, M, wife of Tony and mother to Justine (from M's first marriage; Justine is now a woman herself, married to Kurt). M had discovered the paintings of L years before in Paris. Now, living with Tony at the edge of a beautiful marsh, M decides to write to L and invite him to stay for a time in the guest house on the marsh. L actually does come to stay, but it's nothing like M imagined. L is harsh and rude and ungrateful, not to mention accompanied by a young woman named Brett.  

As with Arlington Park, Second Place was inspired by a work of literature I'm unfamiliar with (in this case, one I've never even heard of: Lorenzo in Taos by Mabel Dodge Luhan; thus, L is inspired by DH Lawrence). I can't decide if I'm curious enough about that book to actively pursue finding a copy, but I'm definitely curious enough to put it on my TBR list. 

Oh, and who the heck is Jeffers? 

"Arlington Park" by Rachel Cusk

By this point in my reading life I would basically read anything by Rachel Cusk without question. I mean, if I see a book by her that I've never read before, I'm getting it without even bothering with the Dip Test. 

That's how I ended up surprised. Having only read The Outline Trilogy, A Life's Work, and Aftermath, I think I expected all of Cusk's books to be . . . well, I was about to type "similarly plotless" (with the understanding that I don't at all mean that in a negative way) but I paused to reflect, and realized Arlington Park doesn't have much in the way of a plot either. But it is quite different from the other Cusk books I've read--different enough to surprise me. 

This is certainly the type of book that reviewers would call "brilliantly incisive." The entire novel takes place in one day and gives flashes of the lives of ten or so women who live in Arlington Park, outside of London. We only get into the minds of about half of the characters, but the glimpses we get are rife with the kind of despair and misery that only suburbia can breed. It's gripping in its honesty and its juxtaposition of beauty and ugliness.

It makes me feel inadequate, ignorant and uninformed to learn only from Wikipedia that this book is a retelling of Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (a book I've never read, though it is on my TBR list). I wish I had been able to recognize that on my own. I have some work to do! Not to mention there are six other novels Rachel Cusk has written that I just wasn't even aware of, plus a seventh coming out this year. Lots to look forward to!

"Kudos" by Rachel Cusk

Another brilliant book by Rachel Cusk which I thoroughly enjoyed reading. I'm sad that I'm finished with the trilogy! I would definitely read them all again, which--in case you were wondering--is high praise. There are so many books in the world, and though many of them may not be worth reading, I will never have time to read all those that are. Because of this, my tendency is always towards choosing something new over going back to something familiar . . . except for a select few (but ever-growing number of) books.

Once again, as with Outline and Transit, I found myself both jealous of and slightly appalled by the conversations in Kudos. Jealous because I don't often have soul-baring conversations, appalled because I definitely don't have them with strangers. But I also realized (because Sam pointed it out) that the dialogue in this book can't really be called conversation; instead, the book is full of monologues delivered to the narrator. And (as Sam also pointed out) despite the natural feeling of these monologues, they're still fiction. Just because it seems like the narrator's actual experience doesn't mean her chats are as constantly scintillating as this book would make one think.

I want to memorialize page 200 here, because I strongly identified with it. I grew up in a household of silent, awkward family dinners, and I have a clear memory of one dinner where teenage me decided (without speaking the thought aloud, of course) that when I grew up I would have a family that talked at the dinner table. Page 200 raises the bar. "Huge comforting meals were served and . . . everything was discussed but nothing examined, so that there was no danger of passing . . . into the state of painful self-awareness where human fictions lose their credibility." Now I want to ensure that we both discuss and examine. Although this may have to wait until my seven-year-old is a bit more mature. 

The setting of this book is never revealed. I spent a good bit of the book trying to figure out where it might have taken place, and then felt a brief moment of annoyance that it wasn't specified, but then I imagined what the book would have been like if I knew where it took place, which made me realize this would have made it an entirely different book. The location really isn't that important, and it actually makes more sense for it to be anywhere/nowhere. But . . . ugh, but I'm still curious. 

"A Life's Work: On Becoming a Mother" by Rachel Cusk

This book is just as well-written and honest as Cusk's other books, but for some reason I didn't feel compelled to read it. I finally did finish it, but I'm pretty sure it was weeks between the time that I first picked it up and the time that I finally finished reading (and it's a tiny little book, so I didn't spend much time on it in between).

This book should not be read by the childless. Those who want to remain childless probably wouldn't be interested; those who plan to have children in the future would probably either be scared into the want-to-remain-childless camp, or would blow it off as hysterical over-exaggeration.

It's been a minute since I was a first-time mother, but the book still resonated with me. I distinctly remember the confusion and loneliness and lack of confidence that Cusk describes. What is more difficult for me to remember--or determine--is whether those feelings were more a function of being new to motherhood, or of lacking a supportive partner. My experience with my youngest child (and a supportive partner) was completely different. (In a good way, obvs.)

"Transit" by Rachel Cusk

I was just as impressed by Transit as I was by Outline, if slightly less surprised (because this time I knew to expect excellence). The two books are really similar but somehow also very different . . . kind of like two peas in a pod but one pea is valuable and the other is a pearl.

Transit, like Outline, is mostly told in conversation (though these conversations are somewhat more monologue-like than I remember those in Outline). I had the exact same feeling about some of these conversations, too: do people really open themselves up like this to just anyone? And are people really so well-spoken and intelligent that they can just spew all these deep thoughts in such a cohesive and fluent manner? Where are these people?

One thing I noticed and appreciated (and didn't remember from Outline) was the detailed character studies. I'm not sure whether to admire Cusk's imaginative and astute character development, or whether to assume she didn't actually make anything up and is a keen observer (and possibly a pariah for writing so honestly about her friends and acquaintances).

I found it funny, after how much I loved the book and after reading all the glowing reviews printed on its first few pages, to turn to the inside of the back cover of my used copy to find this:

I obviously was not bored by this book and find it hard to imagine how any reader could have been. However . . . there is an unsatisfying element in the way that nothing seems to be resolved. It's a true slice of life, and every interaction is cut off--not in a glaring or inelegant way, but in retrospect it's obvious that the rest of the story is still in the cake this book was cut from.

I want more! I know I won't find resolution for these conversations, but lucky for me there's another pea in the pod. I have Kudos waiting in the wings.

"Aftermath: On Marriage and Separation" by Rachel Cusk

I thought I would really connect with this book, that it would strike a deep chord with me, that it would bring raw emotions back to the surface. Which might be a bit difficult or uncomfortable, but wouldn't be wholly unwelcome; I thought enough time had passed that it would feel more cathartic than painful. So I was surprised to find this book didn't really resonate with me. Maybe this is just, to paraphrase Tolstoy, because all happy marriages are alike but every divorce is unhappy in its own way?

I'm not sure there's any real need to summarize this book, as it's all right there in the title; it's basically the author's autobiography covering this very brief and specific period of her life. And while I'm glad I read it, and I am appreciative of Cusk's writing, I doubt I would pick this title up again.

“Outline” by Rachel Cusk

It's happening again. I'm reading faster than I'm blogging and I'm getting behind. Yeah, I know, I have that rule that I can't start another book before I've blogged about the last one . . . well, I broke the rule a few times. Oops.

It's really unfortunate in this case, though, because I thought Outline was a great book, and now I won't be able to do it justice because I finished reading it weeks ago. If I'm honest with myself, though, I may not have been able to do it justice even if I'd blogged about it right after I finished reading . . . at least now I have an excuse.

This book's structure kind of floats somewhere between short stories and a novel. It seems like each chapter could stand alone as a short story, but the chapters are linked more than those in the usual book of short stories, and various characters appear and reappear (and the narrator remains the same throughout).

The general background of the book (I don't feel like it can be called a plot, and I don't know what else to call it): an English writer travels to Athens for a week (or was it a month?) to teach a writing course. The book is entirely composed of conversations the writer has (with her seatmate on the plane, a few friends, and the students in her class). I fluctuated between disbelief (that people would actually open themselves up enough to have such deep, meaningful conversations with practical strangers) and envy (that people have such intelligent conversations and I don't . . . though it made me feel better to remember this is fiction, after all), but despite disbelief and envy, these conversations were pretty intriguing. And it was really interesting to get a brief glimpse into the life of each student in the writer's class (in the first chapter where they are introduced) . . . but frustrating to come back to them a few chapters later and have to flip back in the book to match up the new stories with their old ones. 

So . . . I can't remember anything else I wanted to say about this book. But I am looking forward to reading the following book, Transit.