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karieh13 's review for:
The House on Fortune Street
by Margot Livesey
Although it certainly doesn’t occur in every story or every book – it seems to be very common that the end of a work of fiction ties back in some way to the beginning. In “The House on Fortune Street”, although I am sure it is probably my fault, the only link between the end and beginning of this book is that both contain a letter. One is a mundane letter from a back, the other a letter whose contents have been eagerly anticipated throughout the book. And yet – I was left flat. I enjoyed the book, on the whole, but I don’t feel as if either the big reveal nor the journey the reader takes to get there lived up to expectations.
The four main characters of the novel – Sean, Dara, Abigail and Cameron are each given their own section of the book. In each, we look through their eyes at many of the events that tie them all together. I did feel as if I gained some insight as to why they did what they did, but there was still a barrier that left the question of why they were who they were unanswered.
(I did find it interesting though, that the one character whose head I most did not want to be in was the one character whose section is written in the first person. His thoughts, the images we see while inhabiting his mind, continue to bother me, days after finishing the book.)
And yet, that tantalizing bit that remains out of reach is hinted at in many ways throughout the book. Maybe, now that I think about it, that’s one of the main themes of the story.
“She was looking at him across the table, her eyes deep and steady, and he knew that if he stretched out his hand she would lead him to her bedroom. He sat there, meeting her gaze, imagining the skin he could see leading to the skin he couldn’t, imagining the pleasure of sex without history. At last, not sure if he was being courageous or cowardly, he looked away.”
Each character is tied to a book or a writer, a plot device that I kept forgetting about unless it was being thrust in front of my face. The subtlety was lost on me.
“Dickens has been two years older that she was when he had published his first sketch, and described his eyes so dimmed with joy and pride, that they could not bear the street, and were not fit to be seen there. Her own eyesight was as keen as ever – she could distinguish the start ruin of the cathedral and beyond it the headland – but she understood about hiding joy.”
I still feel ambivalent about this book, and I’ve been considering my review for a few days. I enjoyed reading the book, there were parts that I felt were very well done and I felt as if I learned something about the characters.
And yet – and yet. I guess I never really felt as if the book lived up to its potential. I felt as if there was some big question that had been posed about these four people that was never answered. Four lives, tied together. Each character impacting and forever changing each others lives…
“But no, what she was sensing was absence, not a presence. Everything she could see, everything she could measure, was the same, and yet everything was profoundly altered.”
The four main characters of the novel – Sean, Dara, Abigail and Cameron are each given their own section of the book. In each, we look through their eyes at many of the events that tie them all together. I did feel as if I gained some insight as to why they did what they did, but there was still a barrier that left the question of why they were who they were unanswered.
(I did find it interesting though, that the one character whose head I most did not want to be in was the one character whose section is written in the first person. His thoughts, the images we see while inhabiting his mind, continue to bother me, days after finishing the book.)
And yet, that tantalizing bit that remains out of reach is hinted at in many ways throughout the book. Maybe, now that I think about it, that’s one of the main themes of the story.
“She was looking at him across the table, her eyes deep and steady, and he knew that if he stretched out his hand she would lead him to her bedroom. He sat there, meeting her gaze, imagining the skin he could see leading to the skin he couldn’t, imagining the pleasure of sex without history. At last, not sure if he was being courageous or cowardly, he looked away.”
Each character is tied to a book or a writer, a plot device that I kept forgetting about unless it was being thrust in front of my face. The subtlety was lost on me.
“Dickens has been two years older that she was when he had published his first sketch, and described his eyes so dimmed with joy and pride, that they could not bear the street, and were not fit to be seen there. Her own eyesight was as keen as ever – she could distinguish the start ruin of the cathedral and beyond it the headland – but she understood about hiding joy.”
I still feel ambivalent about this book, and I’ve been considering my review for a few days. I enjoyed reading the book, there were parts that I felt were very well done and I felt as if I learned something about the characters.
And yet – and yet. I guess I never really felt as if the book lived up to its potential. I felt as if there was some big question that had been posed about these four people that was never answered. Four lives, tied together. Each character impacting and forever changing each others lives…
“But no, what she was sensing was absence, not a presence. Everything she could see, everything she could measure, was the same, and yet everything was profoundly altered.”