Gatherings

I’m usually disappointed by modern novels that have been awarded a literary prize. The Gathering by Anne Enright is another. It received the Man Booker prize, awarded annually to a UK novel, in 2007. It is a first person account of a 40ish middle class Dublin mom of two who is the midst of a mid-life crisis exacerbated by the suicide of a brother a year younger than her. Her family is large, her mom pregnant 12 times, seven children lost to miscarriage. The title, of course, refers to the wake and funeral. The narrative is non-linear, jumping from present to past constantly. I enjoyed many of the insights, but I’ve never read a book where I so often had no idea what the character is trying to express. Some of that is probably due to the difference in UK and America English and culture, but I’ve read a lot of stuff from across the pond and never encountered this degree of difficulty. This is a tough read, although I realize the author, who suffered a nervous breakdown herself, was trying to capture a mind in turmoil, battered by the futility and apparent meaninglessness of life. This excerpt nailed the mindset: “… We each love someone, even though they will die. And we keep loving them, even when they are not there to love any more. And there is no logic or use to any of this, that I can see.” I wish more of the narrative had been as beautiful as that. As is the case in so many families, the relationships are strained but loving, and seem unusually ugly viewed from the outside, which makes the tone relentlessly downbeat. 336 readers at Amazon have rated The Gathering, forging to a consensus of 3.3 on a scale of five. I’ll go with three, grudgingly. Enright has published five other novels, three story collections and a work of non-fiction. She has worked in TV and radio. Knowing how much a writer puts into a work, it always gives me a creepy feeling to be so critical, especially of someone who is infinitely more successful than I. I’m confident I’ve been objective and not motivated by professional jealousy. Maybe works such as this are simply on a plain that is beyond my pedestrian faculties.

On your mark, get set — go. Here’s a pic from Children’s Day in Vilnius, Lithuania, which features a baby race:

My thanks to local barber Viktor, who bought up my vinyl albums inventory, about eight in all, one Elton John, the rest Bruce Springteen; and to the two gentlemen who purchased three novels in Russian between them.

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