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3.99 AVERAGE
3.99 AVERAGE
After a break of several months I picked this series up again and felt like I'd forgotten all the characters. But it was just that the first chapter was full of new ones - I think, possibly I had just forgotten them from before! Eventually the characters I did remember turned up again, a little bit older and not a lot wiser, though perhaps they are getting a bit more interesting as they age. Nicholas has found a girl to marry this time, the last one I thought he'd found was just an affair. She barely gets a line in the book so I don't know how she feels about this development. I wonder if we'll ever learn any more about her directly? Somehow I expect she's destined to stay in the shade as Nick himself does. The other characters repeatedly move into the spotlight for a while and then move off stage again. I veer between finding it all rather dull and finding it a tiny bit fascinating as an artifact of the life of the entitled white male in the twentieth century.
funny
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Preferred the previous volume, not as emotionally engaging, but Widmerpool’s engagement interesting, and Conyers interest in psychoanalysis. Is Nick really anywhere near a main character in this series?
Life rolls on as war approaches again, just as Jenkins decides to marry, and Widmerpool backs out. It's been interesting to read about the complexities of British upper crust life and all of its bed hopping, despite the reputation of mainly keeping the upper lip stiff.
In the fourth installment of a series that feels as if it will never end, Nick's youth is definitely running thin. Frequent assertions that it's about time he got married are the most obvious way this is conveyed, but I suppose where in the earlier books Nick was more often confused, at a loss, bewildered, unclear, in [b: At Lady Molly's|1376768|At Lady Molly's (A Dance to the Music of Time, #4)|Anthony Powell|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1345949635s/1376768.jpg|43273723] Nick has developed a reservoir of a sense of humour, to draw energy from whenever an awkward moment occurs. This is lucky because there are many.
As I was reading this I felt displeasedbecause Nick gets engaged, for God's sake, yet he and his fiancée barely exchange two words in the whole novel . Then I remembered the words of my better Year 13 English teacher: "Never judge a work of literature on something it never intended to do." Like all maxims this is best only partly followed, but I want to say that series is unlike anything I've ever read before. Most of what Nick does is have conversations with other people to get through to their temperaments; he relays gossip, turns over observations and gently mocks people who need mocking. What he does not really do is talk about himself. People have called Powell the 'English Proust'; it will come as no surprise to anyone that I have not read Proust. So for me, this series is quite unique in my literary landscape. I read a lot of historical romance which is all about a structured build-up and growth of a relationship, focusing on the inner life of the main characters. Even the literary stuff I read is unlike this; I once compared this to [b: The Great Gatsby|4671|The Great Gatsby|F. Scott Fitzgerald|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1490528560s/4671.jpg|245494] but have since decided that the two are alike only in terms of narrator. The scope and intentions of The Music of Time are decidedly different to Gatsby.
These books make me feel my age, which in the grand scheme of things is really quite young. I don't want to bang on about the metaphor of life as a dance because it doesn't seem original enough to withstand much repeating, but I just mean I have hardly enough experience of life to be able to stand back and see it in metaphor. I'm still at the (latter end of the) [b: A Question of Upbringing|16116|A Question of Upbringing (A Dance to the Music of Time, #1)|Anthony Powell|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1328162630s/16116.jpg|1847340] stage; there hasn't been time for anyone to exit my life and then entered again. Part of me feels as if Widmerpool's strange constancy is the surest fiction of all; the other part is conscious that I am in no way fit to make sweeping judgements about life. Certainly, these feel like books to grow old to, and weirdly I hope I shall. By which I mean I will reread them when I am an old crone.
Also I think the title is just dreadful. There's something so unsophisticated about a preposition and especially as the previous titles have all been rather whimsical and metaphorical, this is a grave disappointment. It's very obvious: much of the story takes place at Lady Molly's weird parties, therefore we'll call the book At Lady Molly's. Neither is Lady Molly a particularly captivating character. I'm not enthusiastic about [b: Casanova's Chinese Restaurant|1052987|Casanova's Chinese Restaurant (A Dance to the Music of Time, #5)|Anthony Powell|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1320389095s/1052987.jpg|2474345] either, which sounds as if Powell threw darts at an edgy bingo card and pieced the results together. Nevertheless I'm sure later it'll make sense why #4 and #5 are such titular departures.
Really though this was very funny and also downright shocking in parts. And of course, beautiful:because later at the house, he meets his future wife . If I were sentimental, I'd take this to mean that the end of every moment can yield something even better.
As I was reading this I felt displeased
These books make me feel my age, which in the grand scheme of things is really quite young. I don't want to bang on about the metaphor of life as a dance because it doesn't seem original enough to withstand much repeating, but I just mean I have hardly enough experience of life to be able to stand back and see it in metaphor. I'm still at the (latter end of the) [b: A Question of Upbringing|16116|A Question of Upbringing (A Dance to the Music of Time, #1)|Anthony Powell|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1328162630s/16116.jpg|1847340] stage; there hasn't been time for anyone to exit my life and then entered again. Part of me feels as if Widmerpool's strange constancy is the surest fiction of all; the other part is conscious that I am in no way fit to make sweeping judgements about life. Certainly, these feel like books to grow old to, and weirdly I hope I shall. By which I mean I will reread them when I am an old crone.
Also I think the title is just dreadful. There's something so unsophisticated about a preposition and especially as the previous titles have all been rather whimsical and metaphorical, this is a grave disappointment. It's very obvious: much of the story takes place at Lady Molly's weird parties, therefore we'll call the book At Lady Molly's. Neither is Lady Molly a particularly captivating character. I'm not enthusiastic about [b: Casanova's Chinese Restaurant|1052987|Casanova's Chinese Restaurant (A Dance to the Music of Time, #5)|Anthony Powell|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1320389095s/1052987.jpg|2474345] either, which sounds as if Powell threw darts at an edgy bingo card and pieced the results together. Nevertheless I'm sure later it'll make sense why #4 and #5 are such titular departures.
Really though this was very funny and also downright shocking in parts. And of course, beautiful:
I wished we would continue to walk, as we were doing, through glades of oak and chestnut trees in the cool twilight, without ever reaching the house and the grim meal which now seemed to lie ahead of us.The unlikely and quite comforting thing is that Nick is wrong
I really enjoyed Widmerpool in this book. On the other hand, I do find the shallowness of the characters somewhat annoying; even as they worry about war on the horizon, they don't seem to take it particularly seriously. But that is realistic! Maybe I just find it annoying because it is a trait I see in myself and the people around me.
Hm, this was as readable as all the others and then - just when I’m thinking it’s all a bit insubstantial - there’s a nice moment at the end that seems to bring some needed clarity and focus. Life as a series of anecdotes but you have to decide for yourself whether or not they’re illuminating.
Originally published on my blog here in August 1999.
For the fourth novel in Dance to the Music of Time series, first of the second trilogy, we once again jump ahead a few years, to 1934, with the narrator Nick Jenkins now around thirty. His affair with Jean Templer over, Nick is earning a living writing scripts for cheap British films, made to allow cinemas to fulfil "the Quota". (At this time, British cinemas had to show the same number of minutes of British films to match the crowd-pulling Hollywood features.)
The style of Dance to the Music of Time is for each individual novel to concentrate on a few weeks of Nick's life, with gaps of up to several years in between. These weeks are those in which significant events happen to him and he meets up with the friends he had at school once again. At this particular period, the significant events in Nick's life centre around the parties held by Lady Molly Jeavons, and Nick's relationship with her vast family. Like any reasonably small society, in the circles in which Nick moves everyone is somehow connected to everyone else. This means that as the particular focus of Nick's life changes, we are presented with characters from earlier books in slightly different guises, as seen through their relationships with new groups of people. An example of this in At Lady Molly's is left-wing writer Quiggin.
In this novel, one aspect of the series becomes clearer. Through a friend of Jenkins' parents, interested in psychology, we are given an analysis of one of the recurring characters, Kenneth Widmerpool. This seems to imply similar analyses of the other main characters, and perhaps shows their origins in Powell's mind, with the idea that the novels would show the reactions of these different types to the events of the twentieth century as they affected London society. This would explain the slight feeling of eccentricity when any of Stringham, Templer or Widmerpool are being portrayed. Jenkins, of course, is meant to be the balanced, impartial observer - how everyone narrator thinks of their view of the world around them.
For the fourth novel in Dance to the Music of Time series, first of the second trilogy, we once again jump ahead a few years, to 1934, with the narrator Nick Jenkins now around thirty. His affair with Jean Templer over, Nick is earning a living writing scripts for cheap British films, made to allow cinemas to fulfil "the Quota". (At this time, British cinemas had to show the same number of minutes of British films to match the crowd-pulling Hollywood features.)
The style of Dance to the Music of Time is for each individual novel to concentrate on a few weeks of Nick's life, with gaps of up to several years in between. These weeks are those in which significant events happen to him and he meets up with the friends he had at school once again. At this particular period, the significant events in Nick's life centre around the parties held by Lady Molly Jeavons, and Nick's relationship with her vast family. Like any reasonably small society, in the circles in which Nick moves everyone is somehow connected to everyone else. This means that as the particular focus of Nick's life changes, we are presented with characters from earlier books in slightly different guises, as seen through their relationships with new groups of people. An example of this in At Lady Molly's is left-wing writer Quiggin.
In this novel, one aspect of the series becomes clearer. Through a friend of Jenkins' parents, interested in psychology, we are given an analysis of one of the recurring characters, Kenneth Widmerpool. This seems to imply similar analyses of the other main characters, and perhaps shows their origins in Powell's mind, with the idea that the novels would show the reactions of these different types to the events of the twentieth century as they affected London society. This would explain the slight feeling of eccentricity when any of Stringham, Templer or Widmerpool are being portrayed. Jenkins, of course, is meant to be the balanced, impartial observer - how everyone narrator thinks of their view of the world around them.
"Woman may show some discrimination about whom they sleep with, but they will marry anybody."
― Anthony Powell, At Lady Molly's
"Marriage, as I have said, is a form of action, of violence almost; an assertion of the will. Its orbit is not to be chartered with precision, if misrepresentation and contrivance are to be avoided. Its facts can perhaps only be known by implication. It is a state from which all objectivity has been removed."
― Anthony Powell, At Lady Molly's
'At Lady Molly's' is the fourth book of 12, or the first book in [b:A Dance to the Music of Time: 2nd Movement|16115|A Dance to the Music of Time 2nd Movement|Anthony Powell|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1386924230s/16115.jpg|1844144]. If you prefer to think of Anthony Powell's (rhymes with pole's, not towel's) masterpiece cycle in terms of months, 'At Lady Molly's' is April.
This novel, like most all of Powell's novels so far, brings in new characters, allows old characters to flow through, and generally pushes time forward a few years. I've heard many descriptions of Anthony Powell's narrative. Some describe it as a dance (obviously) that Powell choreographs. Some describe it as a symphony where themes and instruments appear, play their part, and remain silent for a couple minutes only to reappear in slightly different circumstances and dress.
I am reminded a bit of Degas' experimentations with monotypes. He loved to play with the process of printmaking. How the printmaking process could smudge and press his ideas with either dark fields or light fields. His images of people and landscapes would emerge out of darkness, smudged reflections would arrive from the plates. He would create multiple images from the same plate that would allow him to create ghost images. He would let the press express, through colored smudges, the idea of movement. I think Powell is playing with some of the same ideas. Through time and memory, faces blur, but the dance continues. People spin into focus, briefly, and then spin away. That is the cycle of life and relationships.
I also like the appearance early in this novel of Lord Alfred Warminster (or Erry, short for Erridge, or Alf). This character is largely based on [a:George Orwell|3706|George Orwell|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1450573063p2/3706.jpg], a contemporary of Anthony Powell and classmate and friend from Eton, who operated in many of the same circles. Orwell and Powell were actually very close for several years, and Alf, seems to be Powell both celebrating Orwell and poking gentle fun at his talented, leftist friend. In fact, Powell and Orwell were so close that at Orwell's funeral in 1950 Powell was the one who selected the hymns. Reflecting on this Powell wrote:
"The Lesson was from Ecclesiastes, the grinders in the streets, the grasshopper a burden, the silver cord loosed, the wheel broken at the cistern. For some reason George Orwell's funeral service was one of the most harrowing I have ever attended."
Anyway, like Proust, it is easy to get caught up in the talk, the movement. Whereas reading Proust always reminded me of participating in a lucid dream, reading Powell seems more like being fairly toasted at a beautiful party or -- well -- a dance.
― Anthony Powell, At Lady Molly's
"Marriage, as I have said, is a form of action, of violence almost; an assertion of the will. Its orbit is not to be chartered with precision, if misrepresentation and contrivance are to be avoided. Its facts can perhaps only be known by implication. It is a state from which all objectivity has been removed."
― Anthony Powell, At Lady Molly's
'At Lady Molly's' is the fourth book of 12, or the first book in [b:A Dance to the Music of Time: 2nd Movement|16115|A Dance to the Music of Time 2nd Movement|Anthony Powell|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1386924230s/16115.jpg|1844144]. If you prefer to think of Anthony Powell's (rhymes with pole's, not towel's) masterpiece cycle in terms of months, 'At Lady Molly's' is April.
This novel, like most all of Powell's novels so far, brings in new characters, allows old characters to flow through, and generally pushes time forward a few years. I've heard many descriptions of Anthony Powell's narrative. Some describe it as a dance (obviously) that Powell choreographs. Some describe it as a symphony where themes and instruments appear, play their part, and remain silent for a couple minutes only to reappear in slightly different circumstances and dress.
I am reminded a bit of Degas' experimentations with monotypes. He loved to play with the process of printmaking. How the printmaking process could smudge and press his ideas with either dark fields or light fields. His images of people and landscapes would emerge out of darkness, smudged reflections would arrive from the plates. He would create multiple images from the same plate that would allow him to create ghost images. He would let the press express, through colored smudges, the idea of movement. I think Powell is playing with some of the same ideas. Through time and memory, faces blur, but the dance continues. People spin into focus, briefly, and then spin away. That is the cycle of life and relationships.
I also like the appearance early in this novel of Lord Alfred Warminster (or Erry, short for Erridge, or Alf). This character is largely based on [a:George Orwell|3706|George Orwell|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1450573063p2/3706.jpg], a contemporary of Anthony Powell and classmate and friend from Eton, who operated in many of the same circles. Orwell and Powell were actually very close for several years, and Alf, seems to be Powell both celebrating Orwell and poking gentle fun at his talented, leftist friend. In fact, Powell and Orwell were so close that at Orwell's funeral in 1950 Powell was the one who selected the hymns. Reflecting on this Powell wrote:
"The Lesson was from Ecclesiastes, the grinders in the streets, the grasshopper a burden, the silver cord loosed, the wheel broken at the cistern. For some reason George Orwell's funeral service was one of the most harrowing I have ever attended."
Anyway, like Proust, it is easy to get caught up in the talk, the movement. Whereas reading Proust always reminded me of participating in a lucid dream, reading Powell seems more like being fairly toasted at a beautiful party or -- well -- a dance.
A third of the way through this unique series, and I expect I'll continue (at a modest pace) to work through to the end. The narrator and the cast of characters that revolve around him continue to interest (and at times fascinate). I can't say that I loved this book or that I'm obsessed with starting the next one, but the content (so far) fully justifies continuing to see where things will go and how the relationships will play out.
In many ways, one of the most intriguing aspects of the books and the series is how neutral - unassuming, (at times, passive), vanilla, unexceptional? - Powell has crafted his protagonist. It's not fair to describe Nick as a cipher, but it feels that, while he may be the axle around which the action spins, his actions seem largely irrelevant to what animates each book.
On a book-by-book basis, and, particularly, on a chapter by chapter or page by page level, this is leisurely, languid stuff. Nothing jaw dropping, but, similarly, reading the books is a comfortable ... and strangely compelling experience. Today, it's very much a period piece - almost like reading a male-centric Jane Austen in serial form or, I'm guessing, for some, like watching Downton Abbey - lots of parlor room banter, social commentary, abstract observation, caste-and -status-related jockeying, etc.
One thing I find striking is that - while the story line (at least so far) evolves between WWI and WWII, the books (as I understand it), were originally published from 1951 to 1975. Nonetheless, it feels fresh and contemporary. As literary, historical fiction goes, it's easy to see why it's stood the test of time.
This may seem obvious, but my sense it would be a huge mistake to read these out of order.
In many ways, one of the most intriguing aspects of the books and the series is how neutral - unassuming, (at times, passive), vanilla, unexceptional? - Powell has crafted his protagonist. It's not fair to describe Nick as a cipher, but it feels that, while he may be the axle around which the action spins, his actions seem largely irrelevant to what animates each book.
On a book-by-book basis, and, particularly, on a chapter by chapter or page by page level, this is leisurely, languid stuff. Nothing jaw dropping, but, similarly, reading the books is a comfortable ... and strangely compelling experience. Today, it's very much a period piece - almost like reading a male-centric Jane Austen in serial form or, I'm guessing, for some, like watching Downton Abbey - lots of parlor room banter, social commentary, abstract observation, caste-and -status-related jockeying, etc.
One thing I find striking is that - while the story line (at least so far) evolves between WWI and WWII, the books (as I understand it), were originally published from 1951 to 1975. Nonetheless, it feels fresh and contemporary. As literary, historical fiction goes, it's easy to see why it's stood the test of time.
This may seem obvious, but my sense it would be a huge mistake to read these out of order.
Widmerpool really is one of the great comic characters in English fiction.