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bunnieslikediamonds's review
4.0
Convicted sex offender becomes obsessed with little girl, causing secrets and neuroses to surface in 60's suburbia.
The lack of violence in this novel does nothing to diminish its creepiness. As is her style, Millar keeps things vague. We don't know the exact nature of the crime the childlike Charlie committed in the past, but it was bad enough to put him away. His legal guardian and brother resents having to watch him and is eager to marry him off to the town librarian, although he does seem to genuinely care about Charlie (as does the librarian, though for murkier reasons). The adults in the little girl's vicinity do little to protect her from their own dysfunction, let alone from creeps in the streets.
Dark and suspenseful, with that sixties sensibility of WTF.
The lack of violence in this novel does nothing to diminish its creepiness. As is her style, Millar keeps things vague. We don't know the exact nature of the crime the childlike Charlie committed in the past, but it was bad enough to put him away. His legal guardian and brother resents having to watch him and is eager to marry him off to the town librarian, although he does seem to genuinely care about Charlie (as does the librarian, though for murkier reasons). The adults in the little girl's vicinity do little to protect her from their own dysfunction, let alone from creeps in the streets.
Dark and suspenseful, with that sixties sensibility of WTF.
mvrieelisa's review
dark
mysterious
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
neven's review
4.0
It’s always unsettling to be reading a sympathetic portrayal of a pedophile, even in a book written by a woman, in the 1960s, and without too much naive hand-waving around how serious a subject it is. While this is not a gratuitous work—nothing graphic really happens—the dark nature of the subject is there.
This is also a page-turning mystery by a master of the form, and the juxtaposition between the earnest and realistic psychology and the plot machinations is sometimes a little unsavory. Without spoiling the ending, and with the understanding that fiction doesn’t have to mirror the realities and statistics of the real world, I can’t help feeling that it’s a little disingenuous to resolve the story of a potential child predator with a shock twist.
Still, it’s respectable that the book understands how its protagonist’s disease is not something that just gets cured (and that’s on top of even taking the sympathetic approach, in the 1960s, no less). It’s a well done book, if uncomfortable to read and discuss.
This is also a page-turning mystery by a master of the form, and the juxtaposition between the earnest and realistic psychology and the plot machinations is sometimes a little unsavory. Without spoiling the ending, and with the understanding that fiction doesn’t have to mirror the realities and statistics of the real world, I can’t help feeling that it’s a little disingenuous to resolve the story of a potential child predator with a shock twist.
Still, it’s respectable that the book understands how its protagonist’s disease is not something that just gets cured (and that’s on top of even taking the sympathetic approach, in the 1960s, no less). It’s a well done book, if uncomfortable to read and discuss.
migrex's review
5.0
I love the characters' voices, especially those of the children. Millar also really understood human nature.
littlemonster's review
5.0
For a long time, I've been wanting to read a Margaret Millar novel. It was a bit of an anticipatory and nervous undertaking when I finally decided to purchase one. There are many interesting books with many interesting synopses, but for some reason, it was The Fiend that really caught my eye in this particular moment. And all I can say is, I'm sure glad that it did.
We're thrust immediately into the world of Charlie Gowen, a unassuming, awkward, uneasy man - and one who has been arrested in the past for "trouble with children." He lives with his brother, Ben, who has had the burden of caring for Charlie for so many years now it seems almost as if he can't remember a time when he was free to be Ben, to do the things Ben wants to do. Completing this little trifecta is Louise Lang, a studious librarian, who meets Charlie one day and is immediately smitten, perhaps because she is equally bereft of self-esteem. Whatever the case, Louise is easily sucked into this twisted dynamic, and there are times when, despite my sympathetic feeling for her, I wondered just why she was allowing herself to be pulled apart like this. I was filled with the sense that perhaps she believed she was deserving of only such a life - what do you want to be, a martyr? Ben asks her at one harrowing point - and that's why she went along without complaint.
Whatever the case, Charlie is not the heart of this novel. Lately he's been parking by a playground, watching the children, and there's one daring, brave little girl who catches his eye. He worries about her, frets constantly on how she's not being cared for properly. She roughhouses, and is frail-looking to begin with, in spite of her good health. Charlie feels that something needs to be done. And, of course, Charlie has to be the one to do it.
Jessie Brant is the girl who has caught Charlie's attention. She lives with her brother, Mike, and her mother and father, Ellen and Dave. Their neighbors are Virginia and Howard Arlington, who Jessie affectionately calls Aunt and Uncle; and Mary Martha and her mother Kate Oakley, the former of which is Jessie's best friend in the entire world. Each of these characters play their own unique part in the story being told, but are also given their own lives, their own sets of oddities and quirks that flesh them out beyond the typical side character, doing nothing but pushing the plot along.
I won't elaborate any further on major plot points, simply because I don't want to spoil any of it. What I will discuss, however, is the rich interpersonal world Millar has managed to craft in this book.
The children, I felt, were accurately rendered (if perhaps a little mature). Jessie in particular, precocious and tomboyish, reminded me of myself at that age, and our experiences of overhearing and worrying over adult's issues felt very true to me as a child who had a similar problem. And poor Mary Martha, suffering even more acutely than the nearly-deranged Kate, from being such a firsthand witness to her parents' nasty divorce. I found Kate by turns frustrating, by turns maddeningly sad.
And I was blown away by Millar's ability to make even Charlie someone who you find yourself feeling sad for. There's a passage when Ben is speaking with Louise, and he tells her to please get out, leave and never come back, because one of the three of them should be able to survive and live a happy life. It can't be me, and it sure can't be Charlie, he tells her. Louise (naturally) does not heed his advice, but it hurt my heart. How tragic, these people all shackled to one another, never able to escape their own demons, or each other's.
The only issue I have with this - and it still does not detract from its five-star rating - is the ending. I felt it was unsatisfying, but perhaps in the way that most 'endings' in life are as well.
Millar was brave. Writing something like this in the '60s, not shirking away from such distasteful subject matter, particularly as a woman, was one of the reasons I knew I had to read one of her novels. I certainly wasn't disappointed.
Highly, highly recommended.
We're thrust immediately into the world of Charlie Gowen, a unassuming, awkward, uneasy man - and one who has been arrested in the past for "trouble with children." He lives with his brother, Ben, who has had the burden of caring for Charlie for so many years now it seems almost as if he can't remember a time when he was free to be Ben, to do the things Ben wants to do. Completing this little trifecta is Louise Lang, a studious librarian, who meets Charlie one day and is immediately smitten, perhaps because she is equally bereft of self-esteem. Whatever the case, Louise is easily sucked into this twisted dynamic, and there are times when, despite my sympathetic feeling for her, I wondered just why she was allowing herself to be pulled apart like this. I was filled with the sense that perhaps she believed she was deserving of only such a life - what do you want to be, a martyr? Ben asks her at one harrowing point - and that's why she went along without complaint.
Whatever the case, Charlie is not the heart of this novel. Lately he's been parking by a playground, watching the children, and there's one daring, brave little girl who catches his eye. He worries about her, frets constantly on how she's not being cared for properly. She roughhouses, and is frail-looking to begin with, in spite of her good health. Charlie feels that something needs to be done. And, of course, Charlie has to be the one to do it.
Jessie Brant is the girl who has caught Charlie's attention. She lives with her brother, Mike, and her mother and father, Ellen and Dave. Their neighbors are Virginia and Howard Arlington, who Jessie affectionately calls Aunt and Uncle; and Mary Martha and her mother Kate Oakley, the former of which is Jessie's best friend in the entire world. Each of these characters play their own unique part in the story being told, but are also given their own lives, their own sets of oddities and quirks that flesh them out beyond the typical side character, doing nothing but pushing the plot along.
I won't elaborate any further on major plot points, simply because I don't want to spoil any of it. What I will discuss, however, is the rich interpersonal world Millar has managed to craft in this book.
The children, I felt, were accurately rendered (if perhaps a little mature). Jessie in particular, precocious and tomboyish, reminded me of myself at that age, and our experiences of overhearing and worrying over adult's issues felt very true to me as a child who had a similar problem. And poor Mary Martha, suffering even more acutely than the nearly-deranged Kate, from being such a firsthand witness to her parents' nasty divorce. I found Kate by turns frustrating, by turns maddeningly sad.
And I was blown away by Millar's ability to make even Charlie someone who you find yourself feeling sad for. There's a passage when Ben is speaking with Louise, and he tells her to please get out, leave and never come back, because one of the three of them should be able to survive and live a happy life. It can't be me, and it sure can't be Charlie, he tells her. Louise (naturally) does not heed his advice, but it hurt my heart. How tragic, these people all shackled to one another, never able to escape their own demons, or each other's.
The only issue I have with this - and it still does not detract from its five-star rating - is the ending. I felt it was unsatisfying, but perhaps in the way that most 'endings' in life are as well.
Millar was brave. Writing something like this in the '60s, not shirking away from such distasteful subject matter, particularly as a woman, was one of the reasons I knew I had to read one of her novels. I certainly wasn't disappointed.
Highly, highly recommended.
raehink's review
2.0
Margaret Millar is known for her psychological development of characters as well as her talent for creating uneasiness in her suspenseful stories. This particular novel addresses the issue of mental illness.
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