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4.13 AVERAGE
4.13 AVERAGE
I read Mary Renault's 1953 novel The Charioteer for @openbookopen's #queeryouryear prompt 'a novel published before you were born', and what a revelation it was. I just adored the gorgeous, if often rather opaque, prose in this WW2 gay melodrama, set in a military hospital after Dunkirk, and notable for its unusual for the time happy ending for its gay protagonists.
In fact I read this after Cat Sebastian had her characters read it in her excellent 1950s set m/m romance We Could Be So Good, and one of her leads is reluctant to believe a book with a queer happy ending could be published in America.
Aside from its historical interest its also a cracking great read, with wounded soldier Laurie caught between relationships with a pacifist conscientious objector working at the hospital and a sailor Laurie idolised when they were at school together. It has such a vivid feel of time and place, and all the minor characters are lovable, if rather stereotypical at times.
I definitely had thoughts about the depictions of the heroic butch plato-reading characters vs the catty fem empty-headed characters, and the discussions of the value of queer community, and I found it so interesting that the author was a lesbian nurse - I wonder how much her own views were showing vs the general homophobia of the time. This is definitely one to pick up if you're interested in queer history or early gay literature.
In fact I read this after Cat Sebastian had her characters read it in her excellent 1950s set m/m romance We Could Be So Good, and one of her leads is reluctant to believe a book with a queer happy ending could be published in America.
Aside from its historical interest its also a cracking great read, with wounded soldier Laurie caught between relationships with a pacifist conscientious objector working at the hospital and a sailor Laurie idolised when they were at school together. It has such a vivid feel of time and place, and all the minor characters are lovable, if rather stereotypical at times.
I definitely had thoughts about the depictions of the heroic butch plato-reading characters vs the catty fem empty-headed characters, and the discussions of the value of queer community, and I found it so interesting that the author was a lesbian nurse - I wonder how much her own views were showing vs the general homophobia of the time. This is definitely one to pick up if you're interested in queer history or early gay literature.
Aching and achingly sweet; earnest and introspective. My one critique is that the narration could be oblique in an mid-century, british kind of way. Lots of "He knew now what he had known before, and when he looked into X's eye's, he had his knowledge confirmed. He turned away." etc etc. Not a lot of time spent on hashing out this knowledge, but one can guess.
Whew. This book really affected me, and I’m still trying to parse through my feelings about it. The Charioteer is a love triangle between three men in early WWII Britain. The story is told from the perspective of Laurie, whose leg was wounded at Dunkirk. While recuperating at a field hospital, he falls in love with Andrew, a conscientious objector on staff at the hospital. Later, Laurie reconnects with Ralph, whom he knew in his school days.
The book includes a whole cast of gay characters, and the odds are stacked against them: they are isolated because of their sexuality, and they are facing a world war—some of them are wounded, and some are on active duty, facing death every day. Even home isn’t safe--there are weekly bombing raids, and people are losing family members and friends. It’s heartbreaking.
I think this is what makes me feel so emotional, to see love blooming in such hostile ground, against the odds, despite society’s best attempts to stamp it out, despite the chaos in the world at large.
So this story is more than just a love triangle; it’s a tale of forbidden love. The inability of these men to display their love in obvious ways imbues even the smallest looks and gestures with profound romantic import. This is easily one of the most romantic books I have ever read.
Heads up, for anyone who hasn’t read it: this is also one of the most confusing books I’ve ever read. For an American, I’m pretty familiar with British slang—as a teenager, I read more British than American lit. But The Charioteer is written in coded language, with gay themes referenced obliquely. Between mid-century British jargon and the inability to discuss homosexuality directly, I reread many sections trying to figure out what the heck was happening. Usually, my inferences were correct, but I wish I’d had an edition with footnotes (I don’t think that exists!).
Though this book was groundbreaking at the time, Mary Renault, who was queer herself, was clearly affected by the homophobia of her time. There is an ongoing theme in the book of “good” and “bad” gays. At a queer party, the main character judges most of the men, thinking to himself: “They had identified themselves with their limitations; they were making a career of them.” But I don’t know how these men can be expected NOT to identify with their sexuality, when society views them only in terms of their sexual orientation. Perhaps this is a real problem for these men, but if so, it was society’s problem first.
Love triangles are hard for me, and this book really broke my heart. Am I Team Ralph or Team Andrew? Read on for spoilers.
In regard to Andrew, I understand why Laurie doesn’t confess his love. In essence, Laurie doesn’t want to “out” Andrew to himself. I think I’m a little hard on Andrew because I see my younger self in him—this moral surety, this black-and-white certainty. Laurie often says that Andrew seems like a soldier when he defends his ideals, and that level of moral rigidity can hurt the people you love. Andrew and Laurie clearly love each other, and I hate that the book ends without Andrew seeing Laurie one last time and without Andrew learning the truth about Bunny and Ralph, but I don’t see a future for Andrew and Laurie. In Andrew’s letter to Laurie, he writes, “If I say I have had feelings about you it would have been wrong to act on, you know enough to see what I mean.” Andrew felt guilty just for punching someone; I cannot imagine him going against the Friends' religious beliefs and having a sexual relationship with a man. Ultimately, I think Andrew is selfish. He would have preferred to keep Laurie in their precious “limbo,” as they call it. But how long could that limbo have lasted? It seems to me that Andrew would never have allowed himself to have a physical relationship with Laurie, and he would have been happy for Laurie to give that up, too.
In the end, it is Ralph who demonstrates courage. Does he sometimes meddle too much in people’s affairs? Is he sometimes bossy? Sure. But he always takes responsibility for his failures of character. To me, he is braver than Andrew; he is willing to accept consequences and make decisions in a way Andrew is not.
Andrew finally makes decisions at the end, but he doesn’t fight for Laurie; he doesn’t fight for love. He was angry and jealous enough to punch Bunny, but he didn’t care enough about Laurie to see him face to face. I think he martyrs himself at the end (or at least, risks the likelihood of death) because he finally had to face the truth about his own sexuality and Laurie’s, and he wasn’t willing to sacrifice his religious beliefs for love. Which is a totally valid choice. But not very romantic.
There are so many beautiful, heart-wrenching moments in this book, but one of my favorites is from the night Ralph and Laurie finally sleep together: "'I’ve often had a feeling that there’s nowhere I really belong.' [Laurie] had hardly known himself what he wanted; but Ralph had said, without a moment's hesitation, 'You belong with me. As long as we’re both alive, this will always be your place before anyone else's. That’s a promise.'" Cue the tears.
The book includes a whole cast of gay characters, and the odds are stacked against them: they are isolated because of their sexuality, and they are facing a world war—some of them are wounded, and some are on active duty, facing death every day. Even home isn’t safe--there are weekly bombing raids, and people are losing family members and friends. It’s heartbreaking.
I think this is what makes me feel so emotional, to see love blooming in such hostile ground, against the odds, despite society’s best attempts to stamp it out, despite the chaos in the world at large.
So this story is more than just a love triangle; it’s a tale of forbidden love. The inability of these men to display their love in obvious ways imbues even the smallest looks and gestures with profound romantic import. This is easily one of the most romantic books I have ever read.
Heads up, for anyone who hasn’t read it: this is also one of the most confusing books I’ve ever read. For an American, I’m pretty familiar with British slang—as a teenager, I read more British than American lit. But The Charioteer is written in coded language, with gay themes referenced obliquely. Between mid-century British jargon and the inability to discuss homosexuality directly, I reread many sections trying to figure out what the heck was happening. Usually, my inferences were correct, but I wish I’d had an edition with footnotes (I don’t think that exists!).
Though this book was groundbreaking at the time, Mary Renault, who was queer herself, was clearly affected by the homophobia of her time. There is an ongoing theme in the book of “good” and “bad” gays. At a queer party, the main character judges most of the men, thinking to himself: “They had identified themselves with their limitations; they were making a career of them.” But I don’t know how these men can be expected NOT to identify with their sexuality, when society views them only in terms of their sexual orientation. Perhaps this is a real problem for these men, but if so, it was society’s problem first.
Love triangles are hard for me, and this book really broke my heart. Am I Team Ralph or Team Andrew? Read on for spoilers.
Spoiler
Andrew is a sympathetic character, full of heart, but I was Team Ralph from the start, from that momentary kiss at school, to the crossing from Dunkirk, when Laurie said, “Sorry, dearie. Some other time.” LOL. I loved the arc of Ralph and Laurie’s story, from beginning to end.In regard to Andrew, I understand why Laurie doesn’t confess his love. In essence, Laurie doesn’t want to “out” Andrew to himself. I think I’m a little hard on Andrew because I see my younger self in him—this moral surety, this black-and-white certainty. Laurie often says that Andrew seems like a soldier when he defends his ideals, and that level of moral rigidity can hurt the people you love. Andrew and Laurie clearly love each other, and I hate that the book ends without Andrew seeing Laurie one last time and without Andrew learning the truth about Bunny and Ralph, but I don’t see a future for Andrew and Laurie. In Andrew’s letter to Laurie, he writes, “If I say I have had feelings about you it would have been wrong to act on, you know enough to see what I mean.” Andrew felt guilty just for punching someone; I cannot imagine him going against the Friends' religious beliefs and having a sexual relationship with a man. Ultimately, I think Andrew is selfish. He would have preferred to keep Laurie in their precious “limbo,” as they call it. But how long could that limbo have lasted? It seems to me that Andrew would never have allowed himself to have a physical relationship with Laurie, and he would have been happy for Laurie to give that up, too.
In the end, it is Ralph who demonstrates courage. Does he sometimes meddle too much in people’s affairs? Is he sometimes bossy? Sure. But he always takes responsibility for his failures of character. To me, he is braver than Andrew; he is willing to accept consequences and make decisions in a way Andrew is not.
Andrew finally makes decisions at the end, but he doesn’t fight for Laurie; he doesn’t fight for love. He was angry and jealous enough to punch Bunny, but he didn’t care enough about Laurie to see him face to face. I think he martyrs himself at the end (or at least, risks the likelihood of death) because he finally had to face the truth about his own sexuality and Laurie’s, and he wasn’t willing to sacrifice his religious beliefs for love. Which is a totally valid choice. But not very romantic.
There are so many beautiful, heart-wrenching moments in this book, but one of my favorites is from the night Ralph and Laurie finally sleep together: "'I’ve often had a feeling that there’s nowhere I really belong.' [Laurie] had hardly known himself what he wanted; but Ralph had said, without a moment's hesitation, 'You belong with me. As long as we’re both alive, this will always be your place before anyone else's. That’s a promise.'" Cue the tears.
While reading this book, I spent my time alternately wanting to hug Laurie Odell and tell him it would all be okay, and wanting to slap him because he was being such an idiot. That kind of response means that the book had its frustrating moments, but it also means that the story affected me enough to get me so deeply involved. The book is a bit of a soap opera, sure, and it unravels a little in the second half, but that didn't prevent it from being a ton of fun to read. And Laurie is the sort of character whom I will remember long after finishing the book.
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
challenging
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
the book notes channel on my personal discord server is filled to the brim with quotations from THE CHARIOTEER because it’s so resonant. like yelling down to the bottom of the well and the well echoes back with truths that leave you choked up. i’ve read a mary renault book before. i think it was... the friendly young ladies but it wasn’t as good as the charioteer. or it’s just the headspace? i might try to read friendly young ladies again.
i lingered too long with this book because it had this air of oppressive silences where things are kept vague that if you don’t pay attention or maybe have little intuition in regards to particular sensitivities, the book won’t mean much to one. but reading the charioteer feels decadent and sparse at once. i cannot fathom how it’s done, stylistically, but i adore it. i lingered too, because i saw too much of myself in the book in too short a time. and i’ve always loathed looking at mirrors.
i lingered too long with this book because it had this air of oppressive silences where things are kept vague that if you don’t pay attention or maybe have little intuition in regards to particular sensitivities, the book won’t mean much to one. but reading the charioteer feels decadent and sparse at once. i cannot fathom how it’s done, stylistically, but i adore it. i lingered too, because i saw too much of myself in the book in too short a time. and i’ve always loathed looking at mirrors.
challenging
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes