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3.62 AVERAGE
3.62 AVERAGE
sad but extremely well done. i will look for further works by this author.
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Clearly a well written and crafted book which I liked and admired in parts, but ultimately didn't really resonate with me, which left parts of it feeling flat to me. I'd be interested in reading other books by William Trevor, but I wouldn't race to do so.
This is a difficult book to rate, because I enjoyed it so much and yet was never really overjoyed by it. I think that is because of the story itself. And so, ignore the rating and read this instead.
William Trevor is often placed in the same exalted halls of contemporary writers as Alice Munro. I love Alice Munro, but until recently hadn't heard of Trevor. I'm glad I have, and took a chance to pick up a couple of his works for my present trip to Ireland. He, like Munro, is a masterful writer. Almost every sentence is perfect, teeming with the kinds of tragedy that are the mainstays of human existence. Broken spirits and people, lives disturbed by events of the past. This is the heart of Lucy Gault's story. Shockingly, it ends in an incomplete redemption for which not enough reason is provided. It also breaks your heart as tragedy piles on top of tragedy and heartbreak on top of heartbreak.
There are a couple things I noted while reading this work. First of all, the characters feel like characters rather than ideas. They are rounded and fresh and always intelligently written. The fictional communities of Enniseala, Kilauren, and Lahardane feel real as a result. Second, this story is written as a parable - there is a moral purpose here, of startling and unimaginable consequence caused by a single moment of violence. Third, the story is written as if it were a product of another era of English-literature writing. Particularly the nineteenth century - there are moments when a wisp of Jane Eyre flows by in your head while reading this work. And then disappears.
Fourth, this story is an attempt to write to story of Ireland in a less direct way than Midnight's Children is an attempt to write the story of India. The result is something both incredible and surprisingly simple. And, ultimately, this is the major downfall of the work - it feels simple at times. Perhaps it is Trevor's pacing. It is wonderful how each of the tragedies that he writes are presented with the same speed as any other moment in the book - the shock comes from the reader imagining it rather than the sudden arrival of horror. Trevor trusts his reader's intelligence, which is nice. But at times, rather than reading a work of truly great literature with major ideas and challenges, you feel as though you are reading some basic literature which can be bought at any drug store. A Khaled Hosseini rather than an Oscar Wilde. A Maeve Binchy rather than a Samuel Beckett. This doesn't make the work any less beautiful - and the same criticism could be applied to Munro - but it did leave me to question Trevor's space in the list of potential Nobel Prize winners.
By the end I was slightly more convinced, and I have every intention to read more of his works. I just hope that, in the future, I don't have the repeating sense that I've read this kind of thing somewhere else already.
William Trevor is often placed in the same exalted halls of contemporary writers as Alice Munro. I love Alice Munro, but until recently hadn't heard of Trevor. I'm glad I have, and took a chance to pick up a couple of his works for my present trip to Ireland. He, like Munro, is a masterful writer. Almost every sentence is perfect, teeming with the kinds of tragedy that are the mainstays of human existence. Broken spirits and people, lives disturbed by events of the past. This is the heart of Lucy Gault's story. Shockingly, it ends in an incomplete redemption for which not enough reason is provided. It also breaks your heart as tragedy piles on top of tragedy and heartbreak on top of heartbreak.
There are a couple things I noted while reading this work. First of all, the characters feel like characters rather than ideas. They are rounded and fresh and always intelligently written. The fictional communities of Enniseala, Kilauren, and Lahardane feel real as a result. Second, this story is written as a parable - there is a moral purpose here, of startling and unimaginable consequence caused by a single moment of violence. Third, the story is written as if it were a product of another era of English-literature writing. Particularly the nineteenth century - there are moments when a wisp of Jane Eyre flows by in your head while reading this work. And then disappears.
Fourth, this story is an attempt to write to story of Ireland in a less direct way than Midnight's Children is an attempt to write the story of India. The result is something both incredible and surprisingly simple. And, ultimately, this is the major downfall of the work - it feels simple at times. Perhaps it is Trevor's pacing. It is wonderful how each of the tragedies that he writes are presented with the same speed as any other moment in the book - the shock comes from the reader imagining it rather than the sudden arrival of horror. Trevor trusts his reader's intelligence, which is nice. But at times, rather than reading a work of truly great literature with major ideas and challenges, you feel as though you are reading some basic literature which can be bought at any drug store. A Khaled Hosseini rather than an Oscar Wilde. A Maeve Binchy rather than a Samuel Beckett. This doesn't make the work any less beautiful - and the same criticism could be applied to Munro - but it did leave me to question Trevor's space in the list of potential Nobel Prize winners.
By the end I was slightly more convinced, and I have every intention to read more of his works. I just hope that, in the future, I don't have the repeating sense that I've read this kind of thing somewhere else already.
Hace unos minutos que he cerrado el libro y aún siento el pequeño vacío que se queda tras terminar un libro de esos que dejan poso. La triste y melancólica historia de Lucy Gault comienza en la Irlanda de los años 20, donde los rencores y odios por la guerra de independencia son recientes.
Dichos sentimientos provocan acciones que acaban desencadenando la preocupación de una niña y una decisión equivocada. A partir de ahí, a través de Lucy y el resto de personajes, el libro habla de las decisiones y sus consecuencias, de la culpa (sobre todo de la culpa), la pérdida, el perdón y la espera. Todo ello narrado desde un estilo entrañable, aunque algo lioso en ocasiones.
Sin duda, ha sido una lectura interesante que me ha hecho querer saber más sobre aquella época en Irlanda.
Dichos sentimientos provocan acciones que acaban desencadenando la preocupación de una niña y una decisión equivocada. A partir de ahí, a través de Lucy y el resto de personajes, el libro habla de las decisiones y sus consecuencias, de la culpa (sobre todo de la culpa), la pérdida, el perdón y la espera. Todo ello narrado desde un estilo entrañable, aunque algo lioso en ocasiones.
Sin duda, ha sido una lectura interesante que me ha hecho querer saber más sobre aquella época en Irlanda.
So many times in our lives, we can look back at moments of chance or luck that changed everything. These moments can be positive or negative, major or minor: if you hadn't bought that raffle ticket on a whim, you wouldn't have won a vacation. If you had been distracted for a second longer, you would have been involved in a major car accident. What you do after these experiences is entirely up to you - you might go broke buying lottery tickets, convinced you're going to win again; you might drive more slowly; you might decide not to drive again at all. That combination of random event and reaction to it is what molds our lives.
Lucy Gault is 8 years old when we meet her at the beginning of the book. Her parents are planning to move the family from their home in Lahardane, Ireland after a couple of incidents making it apparent that their home is no longer a friendly place - their dogs are poisoned, a foiled attempt to burn down their house leaves one of the perpetrators injured. Lucy doesn't want to leave, so she decides to run away. Evidence seems to point to her death, and from there the die is cast on all their lives.
The book can best be described as a meditation. It's about the coping mechanisms we have inborn with our personalities, and the ones we learn as life experiences shape us. It's also about the difficulties of forgiveness, and the struggle to feel whole when you've lost so much that's important to you. The book is pretty short, just over 200 pages, but I can't imagine racing through it in one sitting - it's so dense and atmospheric that I think you might suffocate if you stay too long inside its covers. That said, it isn't the type of book that's out of sight, out of mind either. Its themes will play around your mind when you're not reading, and after you've finished.
Recommended for: people who read the "missed encounters" ads in free newspapers, anyone who feels lucky that any of a number of bad decisions in their pasts didn't lead to tragedy.
Quote: "They lay in one another's arms, they talked, she read out to him something she liked in a book, they were companions on their journeys; and yet on days like this one, she belonged only to herself."
Lucy Gault is 8 years old when we meet her at the beginning of the book. Her parents are planning to move the family from their home in Lahardane, Ireland after a couple of incidents making it apparent that their home is no longer a friendly place - their dogs are poisoned, a foiled attempt to burn down their house leaves one of the perpetrators injured. Lucy doesn't want to leave, so she decides to run away. Evidence seems to point to her death, and from there the die is cast on all their lives.
The book can best be described as a meditation. It's about the coping mechanisms we have inborn with our personalities, and the ones we learn as life experiences shape us. It's also about the difficulties of forgiveness, and the struggle to feel whole when you've lost so much that's important to you. The book is pretty short, just over 200 pages, but I can't imagine racing through it in one sitting - it's so dense and atmospheric that I think you might suffocate if you stay too long inside its covers. That said, it isn't the type of book that's out of sight, out of mind either. Its themes will play around your mind when you're not reading, and after you've finished.
Recommended for: people who read the "missed encounters" ads in free newspapers, anyone who feels lucky that any of a number of bad decisions in their pasts didn't lead to tragedy.
Quote: "They lay in one another's arms, they talked, she read out to him something she liked in a book, they were companions on their journeys; and yet on days like this one, she belonged only to herself."
A beautiful, melancholic, tragic tale. My blog: http://worncorners.com/2016/03/20/the-story-of-lucy-gault-the-solitary-survivor/
Short, sweet, and simple yet heartbreaking and deep at the same time. I read this book on the plane on the way to and from a job interview and could not put it down. Tragic with interesting characters.
"I wasn't sure what to expect from this novel written by a short story writer, but was mostly impressed. The poetic and tight language that works so well in a short format is beautiful here. I had to suspend disbelief a bit about the story itself, but found the characters and their reactions and emotions very realistic. I was also impressed with Trevor's courage to end the story in the way he did.
Lucy's life is a tragedy, and could have been very depressing, but Trevor's language and eye for description render it beautiful in a heartbreaking sort of way. He also puts the reader into the mind of many different characters, not directly in Lucy's. So, instead of suffering with Lucy, I felt that I was up one level - feeling for her and not with her. This could be construed as a bad thing for sure. I think, though, that Trevor sacrificed the potentially very emotional experience of being inside Lucy's head throughout for something greater. Instead we have a picture of how a whole family feels, and how each member is affected by the others.
Some favorite quotations:
'We are playing at being dead,' he had once gently protested, and she hadn't been able to explain why it was that she would always want to forget.
...in his sixty-ninth year he was establishing his survivor's status. He nodded that into place, feeling it to be true, and being a survivor was something at least, more than it seemed.
His daughter's brooding years had created something of their own that long ago had possessed her, wrapping her like fog that chilled.
'Love is greedy when it is starved,' Heloise reminded him when they walked across the difficult paving. 'Don't you remember, Everard? Love is beyond all reason when it is starved.'
She nodded. In novels people ran away. And novels were a reflection of reality, of all the world's desperation and of its happiness, as much of one as of the other. Why should mistakes and foolishness - in reality too - not be put right while still they might be?
Lucy's life is a tragedy, and could have been very depressing, but Trevor's language and eye for description render it beautiful in a heartbreaking sort of way. He also puts the reader into the mind of many different characters, not directly in Lucy's. So, instead of suffering with Lucy, I felt that I was up one level - feeling for her and not with her. This could be construed as a bad thing for sure. I think, though, that Trevor sacrificed the potentially very emotional experience of being inside Lucy's head throughout for something greater. Instead we have a picture of how a whole family feels, and how each member is affected by the others.
Some favorite quotations:
'We are playing at being dead,' he had once gently protested, and she hadn't been able to explain why it was that she would always want to forget.
...in his sixty-ninth year he was establishing his survivor's status. He nodded that into place, feeling it to be true, and being a survivor was something at least, more than it seemed.
His daughter's brooding years had created something of their own that long ago had possessed her, wrapping her like fog that chilled.
'Love is greedy when it is starved,' Heloise reminded him when they walked across the difficult paving. 'Don't you remember, Everard? Love is beyond all reason when it is starved.'
She nodded. In novels people ran away. And novels were a reflection of reality, of all the world's desperation and of its happiness, as much of one as of the other. Why should mistakes and foolishness - in reality too - not be put right while still they might be?
A beautiful, melancholic, tragic tale. My blog: http://worncorners.com/2016/03/20/the-story-of-lucy-gault-the-solitary-survivor/
This book, for me, is a modern Victorian novel, if ever there could be such a thing. The story seems rather non-20th century, but it is not entirely implausible, given the setting and time. Trevor's writing is straightforward, but with enough elegance to convey the flair of a mid-20th century writer. Disappointing I found the last sections; the passing of time seems rather brusque, given the novel's slower pace. However, I recommend this read without hesitation.