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140 reviews for:
The Patrick Melrose Novels: Never Mind, Bad News, Some Hope, Mother's Milk, and at Last
Edward St Aubyn
4.0 AVERAGE
140 reviews for:
The Patrick Melrose Novels: Never Mind, Bad News, Some Hope, Mother's Milk, and at Last
Edward St Aubyn
4.0 AVERAGE
The one I've read is a collection of five books - note that most editions comprise only the first four.
Patrick Melrose, his father and mother, his two sons, his wife and their extended family and "friends" are the subjects of these five novels, each of them desperately unhappy, but at the same time sarcastic, bitingly funny and very intelligent in quite different ways. The 2nd book contains the most haunting description of drug dependency I've read since The Goldfinch.
It reveals a lot of the otherwise hidden codes of the British upper classes - well worth a read if you plan to enter these circles. I'm sure princess Kate would have benefitted from reading this before her royal engagement/marriage...
You will want to read this if you wish to understand what it is that has both upheld and undermined the British upper classes for so many centuries. You will also want to read it if you want to read something that is incredibly well written, very intellectual and funny in a sad, sad way.
A few quotes to show the level of wit in this book:
"This must be what the oyster feels when the lemon juice falls."
"The connections between stupidity and malice were so tangled and so dense."
"(...) the apprehensive fat of people who had decided to become their own airbag systems in a dangerous world."
"She suddenly felt that both ends of life were absolutely terrifying, with a quite frightening stretch in between."
Read for yourself - it's a treasure trove of good quotes for people with a good memory ;-)
Oh, and Picador: Why don't you publish a picture of St Aubyn with a CC license, so it can be used freely - in blogs and in Wikipedia!
Patrick Melrose, his father and mother, his two sons, his wife and their extended family and "friends" are the subjects of these five novels, each of them desperately unhappy, but at the same time sarcastic, bitingly funny and very intelligent in quite different ways. The 2nd book contains the most haunting description of drug dependency I've read since The Goldfinch.
It reveals a lot of the otherwise hidden codes of the British upper classes - well worth a read if you plan to enter these circles. I'm sure princess Kate would have benefitted from reading this before her royal engagement/marriage...
You will want to read this if you wish to understand what it is that has both upheld and undermined the British upper classes for so many centuries. You will also want to read it if you want to read something that is incredibly well written, very intellectual and funny in a sad, sad way.
A few quotes to show the level of wit in this book:
"This must be what the oyster feels when the lemon juice falls."
"The connections between stupidity and malice were so tangled and so dense."
"(...) the apprehensive fat of people who had decided to become their own airbag systems in a dangerous world."
"She suddenly felt that both ends of life were absolutely terrifying, with a quite frightening stretch in between."
Read for yourself - it's a treasure trove of good quotes for people with a good memory ;-)
Oh, and Picador: Why don't you publish a picture of St Aubyn with a CC license, so it can be used freely - in blogs and in Wikipedia!
Brilliantly written, devastatingly ugly, priviledged people. Perhaps I wasn't in the correct frame of mind at the time of reading. *will revist*
St. Aubyn is a fantastic writer.
Patrick (St. Aubyn's doppelgänger? I admit to frequently pondering which parts were autobiographical and came to the conclusion: much. Yes, yes, one is supposed to pretend writers, especially the great Male writer, make it all up from their maarhvelous imaginations, but I'm calling bollocks on this one--a term I've never actually used before--as I am sick of the idea that autobiographical fiction is somehow less worthy than whatever else it is that other writers supposedly write. The argument is about as pointless as those about adverbs, POV, and the passive vs active voice, as the chosen winner is usually just the style that is in vogue by whatever writer is in vogue at the moment. Phew. Glad we got that settled. Now back to my brief review.) is a sharply detailed character, a quick wit, and a fabulous fuck-up who remains true to his racist, misogynist, fat-phobic, homophobic ways. Yup. He is quite the rat-fink. And yet. You root for him. Sure, his parents help with that sentiment. Patrick was horrifically abused as a child--and, seriously, aristocratic English society has never looked so bad. (Princess Margaret even makes a bovine appearance. One wonders why on earth people get so devoted to the crown. But, alas, they do.) The books on the whole wrestle the idea: are we free to become our own persons, separate from our parents? Or are we doomed to repeat and repeat the endless cycles of pain?
A taste of the St. Aubyn's prose-y goodness from Book 2:
"Patrick stared at the dented hubcap of an old white station wagon. It had seen so much, he reflected, and remembered nothing, like a slick amnesiac reeling in thousands of images and rejecting them instantly, spinning out its empty life under a paler wider sky."
Or this as his drug supplier takes a hit:
"Pierre's pupils dilated for a moment and then contracted again, like the feeding mouth of a sea anemone."
But also the unexpected wisdom:
"Of course it was wrong to want to change people, but what else could you possibly want to do with them?"
Or: "Above all, he wanted to stop being a child without using the cheap disguise of becoming a parent."
And the funny. Well, funny out of context, is not funny, but here's a small sample as Patrick sneaks away drunk:
"Tell family? Yes. No. Yes. No! Get in car. Ding ding ding. Fucking American car safety ding ding. Safer to assume sudden violent death. Police no please no police, p-l-e-a-s-e. Slip away over crunchy nutritious gravel ..."
Patrick (St. Aubyn's doppelgänger? I admit to frequently pondering which parts were autobiographical and came to the conclusion: much. Yes, yes, one is supposed to pretend writers, especially the great Male writer, make it all up from their maarhvelous imaginations, but I'm calling bollocks on this one--a term I've never actually used before--as I am sick of the idea that autobiographical fiction is somehow less worthy than whatever else it is that other writers supposedly write. The argument is about as pointless as those about adverbs, POV, and the passive vs active voice, as the chosen winner is usually just the style that is in vogue by whatever writer is in vogue at the moment. Phew. Glad we got that settled. Now back to my brief review.) is a sharply detailed character, a quick wit, and a fabulous fuck-up who remains true to his racist, misogynist, fat-phobic, homophobic ways. Yup. He is quite the rat-fink. And yet. You root for him. Sure, his parents help with that sentiment. Patrick was horrifically abused as a child--and, seriously, aristocratic English society has never looked so bad. (Princess Margaret even makes a bovine appearance. One wonders why on earth people get so devoted to the crown. But, alas, they do.) The books on the whole wrestle the idea: are we free to become our own persons, separate from our parents? Or are we doomed to repeat and repeat the endless cycles of pain?
A taste of the St. Aubyn's prose-y goodness from Book 2:
"Patrick stared at the dented hubcap of an old white station wagon. It had seen so much, he reflected, and remembered nothing, like a slick amnesiac reeling in thousands of images and rejecting them instantly, spinning out its empty life under a paler wider sky."
Or this as his drug supplier takes a hit:
"Pierre's pupils dilated for a moment and then contracted again, like the feeding mouth of a sea anemone."
But also the unexpected wisdom:
"Of course it was wrong to want to change people, but what else could you possibly want to do with them?"
Or: "Above all, he wanted to stop being a child without using the cheap disguise of becoming a parent."
And the funny. Well, funny out of context, is not funny, but here's a small sample as Patrick sneaks away drunk:
"Tell family? Yes. No. Yes. No! Get in car. Ding ding ding. Fucking American car safety ding ding. Safer to assume sudden violent death. Police no please no police, p-l-e-a-s-e. Slip away over crunchy nutritious gravel ..."
Mixed feelings about these. Fairly well written, but exceedingly dark and not a likeable character in the bunch. Not for the faint of heart, that's for sure.
I'm not sure what I can add that hasn't been said by other reviewers. This series of novels is funny, poignant, searing, and unique. Most of all, it's an unsparing look at the damage that parents bring upon their children, both through their base motivations, but also through their desire to avoid the mistakes of *their* parents.
In lesser hands, the story of the self-loathing Patrick Melrose would be cliched, but St. Aubyn's language and observations are so cutting that the reader understands Patrick, roots for him, and lives or dies with his successes and failures.
Each novel captures a brief period of Patrick's life, usually just a weekend or less. The first is when he is 5, and we see the monstrosity of his parents. The second is when Patrick is 22, in New York for a weekend to pick up his father's remains. He is a young, dissolute drug addict, and this segment in particular was quite hard to read (very graphic drug use and tripping). Not for the faint of heart. The last two books are later in adulthood (~30 and then ~40). I won't say anymore, so as not to give it away.
In lesser hands, the story of the self-loathing Patrick Melrose would be cliched, but St. Aubyn's language and observations are so cutting that the reader understands Patrick, roots for him, and lives or dies with his successes and failures.
Each novel captures a brief period of Patrick's life, usually just a weekend or less. The first is when he is 5, and we see the monstrosity of his parents. The second is when Patrick is 22, in New York for a weekend to pick up his father's remains. He is a young, dissolute drug addict, and this segment in particular was quite hard to read (very graphic drug use and tripping). Not for the faint of heart. The last two books are later in adulthood (~30 and then ~40). I won't say anymore, so as not to give it away.
"A submission, even an absurd one, was a real temptation to Eleanor. She would be sacrificing things she did not want to believe in -- table manners, dignity, pride -- for something she did want to believe in: the spirit of sacrifice. The emptiness of the gesture, the fact that it did not help anybody, made it seem more pure at the time." [NEVER MIND]
" 'Only in the English language,' said Victor, 'can one be "a bore", like being a lawyer or a pastry cook, making boredom into a profession -- in other languages a person is simply boring, a temporary state of affairs. The question is, I suppose, whether this points to a greater intolerance towards boring people, or an especially intense quality of boredom among the English.' " [NEVER MIND]
"Of course it was wrong to want to change people, but what else could you possibly want to do with them?" [BAD NEWS]
" 'I want to die, I want to die, I want to die,' he found himself muttering in the middle of the most ordinary task, swept away by a landslide of regret as the kettle boiled or the toast popped up." [SOME HOPE]
"He had seen his mother carrying Thomas to the edge of the pool and pointing to the fish, saying, 'Fish.' It was no use trying that sort of thing with Robert. What he couldn't help wondering was how his brother was supposed to know wether she meant the pond, the water, the weeds, the clouds reflected on the water, or the fish, if he could see them. How did he even know that 'Fish' was a thing rather than a colour or something that you do? Sometimes, come to think of it, it was something to do." [MOTHER'S MILK]
"Eleanor regretted what she had just said, but also felt a twinge of adolescent pride at giving precedence to honesty over tact." [MOTHER'S MILK]
" 'Only in the English language,' said Victor, 'can one be "a bore", like being a lawyer or a pastry cook, making boredom into a profession -- in other languages a person is simply boring, a temporary state of affairs. The question is, I suppose, whether this points to a greater intolerance towards boring people, or an especially intense quality of boredom among the English.' " [NEVER MIND]
"Of course it was wrong to want to change people, but what else could you possibly want to do with them?" [BAD NEWS]
" 'I want to die, I want to die, I want to die,' he found himself muttering in the middle of the most ordinary task, swept away by a landslide of regret as the kettle boiled or the toast popped up." [SOME HOPE]
"He had seen his mother carrying Thomas to the edge of the pool and pointing to the fish, saying, 'Fish.' It was no use trying that sort of thing with Robert. What he couldn't help wondering was how his brother was supposed to know wether she meant the pond, the water, the weeds, the clouds reflected on the water, or the fish, if he could see them. How did he even know that 'Fish' was a thing rather than a colour or something that you do? Sometimes, come to think of it, it was something to do." [MOTHER'S MILK]
"Eleanor regretted what she had just said, but also felt a twinge of adolescent pride at giving precedence to honesty over tact." [MOTHER'S MILK]
"A submission, even an absurd one, was a real temptation to Eleanor. She would be sacrificing things she did not want to believe in -- table manners, dignity, pride -- for something she did want to believe in: the spirit of sacrifice. The emptiness of the gesture, the fact that it did not help anybody, made it seem more pure at the time." [NEVER MIND]
" 'Only in the English language,' said Victor, 'can one be "a bore", like being a lawyer or a pastry cook, making boredom into a profession -- in other languages a person is simply boring, a temporary state of affairs. The question is, I suppose, whether this points to a greater intolerance towards boring people, or an especially intense quality of boredom among the English.' " [NEVER MIND]
"Of course it was wrong to want to change people, but what else could you possibly want to do with them?" [BAD NEWS]
" 'I want to die, I want to die, I want to die,' he found himself muttering in the middle of the most ordinary task, swept away by a landslide of regret as the kettle boiled or the toast popped up." [SOME HOPE]
"He had seen his mother carrying Thomas to the edge of the pool and pointing to the fish, saying, 'Fish.' It was no use trying that sort of thing with Robert. What he couldn't help wondering was how his brother was supposed to know wether she meant the pond, the water, the weeds, the clouds reflected on the water, or the fish, if he could see them. How did he even know that 'Fish' was a thing rather than a colour or something that you do? Sometimes, come to think of it, it was something to do." [MOTHER'S MILK]
"Eleanor regretted what she had just said, but also felt a twinge of adolescent pride at giving precedence to honesty over tact." [MOTHER'S MILK]
" 'Only in the English language,' said Victor, 'can one be "a bore", like being a lawyer or a pastry cook, making boredom into a profession -- in other languages a person is simply boring, a temporary state of affairs. The question is, I suppose, whether this points to a greater intolerance towards boring people, or an especially intense quality of boredom among the English.' " [NEVER MIND]
"Of course it was wrong to want to change people, but what else could you possibly want to do with them?" [BAD NEWS]
" 'I want to die, I want to die, I want to die,' he found himself muttering in the middle of the most ordinary task, swept away by a landslide of regret as the kettle boiled or the toast popped up." [SOME HOPE]
"He had seen his mother carrying Thomas to the edge of the pool and pointing to the fish, saying, 'Fish.' It was no use trying that sort of thing with Robert. What he couldn't help wondering was how his brother was supposed to know wether she meant the pond, the water, the weeds, the clouds reflected on the water, or the fish, if he could see them. How did he even know that 'Fish' was a thing rather than a colour or something that you do? Sometimes, come to think of it, it was something to do." [MOTHER'S MILK]
"Eleanor regretted what she had just said, but also felt a twinge of adolescent pride at giving precedence to honesty over tact." [MOTHER'S MILK]
The writing is good, but after reading more than half, I had to put the book back on the shelf. It was too hopeless. Is there any redemption for Patrick? I may never find out.