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A review by zefrog
Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann
2.0
The salient features of Ducks, Newburyport are probably its length (1000 pages) and its structure.
The book is famously often described as consisting of only one sentence. This is not quite true. While the majority of it is indeed a continuous succession of clauses, random words and phrases, this avalanche of words is sporadically interrupted by short, conventional pieces of narration telling the story a mountain lion and her kittens. The reader is clearly invited to draw parallels between the lioness and the narrator.
Along all those pages we learn a few things about that narrator (possibly not as many as one would expect), but she isn't completely convincing as a character.
We don't know her name but we know that she is a housewife in her mid 40s who lives in Newcomerstown, Ohio. She is married to Leo and formerly to Frank. She has four children (Stacy, Ben, Gillian and Jake - Stacy is from the first marriage and a teenager). She has two cats (Opal and Federick), 14 or 15 chickens, and, briefly, a dog (Jim). She has two siblings (Ethan and Phoebe) and a cousin (Barry). She has recovered from cancer but not from the death of her mother about 12 years previously.
She is a former teacher but is now a stay-at-home mum with a side line in "remunerative cake-baking", specialising in tarte tatin. Politically she leans to the left. She is a bit of a prude suffering from low self-esteem and anxiety. She seems oddly obsessed by the Amish, martin houses, Julia Child, The Little House on the Prairie, and a few other things. Annoyingly, she loves ruminating on the plots of films, often mixing up several films featuring the same actors, and telling us her dreams.
And she has thoughts. Lots of thoughts!
The title, which appears about half a dozen times in the book, is never explained, though it is a reference to a minor and not particularly relevant incident that happened to the narrator's mother during her childhood.
As far as stream of consciousness books go, this one is consistently accessible and readable. Some of the juxtapositions are playful and amusing and Ellmann's aptitude at weaving all those ideas and echoes over such a length is commendable.
However the constant repetition of the phrase "the fact that" to introduce new idea and the fragmentary nature of the text make for a slow and disjointed reading.
The structure also creates a regrettable distance with what is being told. For the reader the effect is of statics blocking reception, like looking at a landscape through a window in the middle of a blizzard: details and clarity get lost. The last fifty or so pages of the book (minus the last 4) get much more straight forwardly narrative and are as such a welcome relief.
But the begs the question of why Ellmann chose this form for her book. Why make it so long (some of the seemingly pointless content often feels like she made a bet with herself)? Why chose this convoluted and indirect way to tell what could have a been a much more straightforward, and therefore powerful, story?
The book is infused with a mundanity undermined by undertow of violence. It ultimately resolves into an indictment of Trump's America and its gun culture. But its form itself feels like a form of violence inflicted on the reader. While it's not a "bad book", its scale and meanderings feel like overkill. Its point could easily have been made more succinctly and better.
The book is famously often described as consisting of only one sentence. This is not quite true. While the majority of it is indeed a continuous succession of clauses, random words and phrases, this avalanche of words is sporadically interrupted by short, conventional pieces of narration telling the story a mountain lion and her kittens. The reader is clearly invited to draw parallels between the lioness and the narrator.
Along all those pages we learn a few things about that narrator (possibly not as many as one would expect), but she isn't completely convincing as a character.
We don't know her name but we know that she is a housewife in her mid 40s who lives in Newcomerstown, Ohio. She is married to Leo and formerly to Frank. She has four children (Stacy, Ben, Gillian and Jake - Stacy is from the first marriage and a teenager). She has two cats (Opal and Federick), 14 or 15 chickens, and, briefly, a dog (Jim). She has two siblings (Ethan and Phoebe) and a cousin (Barry). She has recovered from cancer but not from the death of her mother about 12 years previously.
She is a former teacher but is now a stay-at-home mum with a side line in "remunerative cake-baking", specialising in tarte tatin. Politically she leans to the left. She is a bit of a prude suffering from low self-esteem and anxiety. She seems oddly obsessed by the Amish, martin houses, Julia Child, The Little House on the Prairie, and a few other things. Annoyingly, she loves ruminating on the plots of films, often mixing up several films featuring the same actors, and telling us her dreams.
And she has thoughts. Lots of thoughts!
The title, which appears about half a dozen times in the book, is never explained, though it is a reference to a minor and not particularly relevant incident that happened to the narrator's mother during her childhood.
As far as stream of consciousness books go, this one is consistently accessible and readable. Some of the juxtapositions are playful and amusing and Ellmann's aptitude at weaving all those ideas and echoes over such a length is commendable.
However the constant repetition of the phrase "the fact that" to introduce new idea and the fragmentary nature of the text make for a slow and disjointed reading.
The structure also creates a regrettable distance with what is being told. For the reader the effect is of statics blocking reception, like looking at a landscape through a window in the middle of a blizzard: details and clarity get lost. The last fifty or so pages of the book (minus the last 4) get much more straight forwardly narrative and are as such a welcome relief.
But the begs the question of why Ellmann chose this form for her book. Why make it so long (some of the seemingly pointless content often feels like she made a bet with herself)? Why chose this convoluted and indirect way to tell what could have a been a much more straightforward, and therefore powerful, story?
The book is infused with a mundanity undermined by undertow of violence. It ultimately resolves into an indictment of Trump's America and its gun culture. But its form itself feels like a form of violence inflicted on the reader. While it's not a "bad book", its scale and meanderings feel like overkill. Its point could easily have been made more succinctly and better.