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A review by john_bizzell
A Country Road, A Tree by Jo Baker
3.0
If you are familiar with Samuel Beckett, this story of his time trapped in occupied France during WWII may give you deeper insight into his later work. Or, like me, you may be so frustrated by his spoilt, self-righteous portrayal here that you never want to encounter him again. He chooses suffering over sense often because the alternative would ‘suffocate’ him. That’s when he explains himself at all, a lot of the time he thinks about what he should say or do but then doesn’t say it or do it. He’s exasperating.
Meanwhile, his partner Suzanne is much more interesting and hardly gets a look in, which is a shame because I’d have liked to have known what she saw in him. When she finds herself ‘seething with irritation’ I was right there with her. ‘One would think, now, in the midst of all this, he could at least pay attention.’ Correct Suzanne, but he’s a selfish twat. ‘He’s a disappointment to her, he’s a disappointment to himself.’ Yes and yes. Clearly people do all sorts of things in war out of necessity and desperation, but I’d have rather understood more about her choices than him tapping the last cigarette in his pack and putting it away AGAIN.
I loved Longbourne and Jo Baker writes beautifully, but her Beckett is a bore. By the end Suzanne finds herself ‘too worn out with it all to care.’ Me too.
Meanwhile, his partner Suzanne is much more interesting and hardly gets a look in, which is a shame because I’d have liked to have known what she saw in him. When she finds herself ‘seething with irritation’ I was right there with her. ‘One would think, now, in the midst of all this, he could at least pay attention.’ Correct Suzanne, but he’s a selfish twat. ‘He’s a disappointment to her, he’s a disappointment to himself.’ Yes and yes. Clearly people do all sorts of things in war out of necessity and desperation, but I’d have rather understood more about her choices than him tapping the last cigarette in his pack and putting it away AGAIN.
I loved Longbourne and Jo Baker writes beautifully, but her Beckett is a bore. By the end Suzanne finds herself ‘too worn out with it all to care.’ Me too.