Alice Thompson (1) (1961–)

A young woman marries a rich, noble widower after a whirlwind romance. Regrets soon set in when this supposed "fairytale match" turns out to be disappointingly different from what was bargained for.

The same description could more or less sum up my relationship with this frustrating novel. Reading the blurb on the back of the back and the initial chapters, I thought that “The Book Collector” would be right up my street. Set in Edwardian England, it revels in the tropes of the Gothic and “sensation novels”, two genres I particularly like. There’s a vulnerable female protagonist from whose (unreliable) perspective the story is recounted; there’s an abusive husband with a shady past and even shadier present; there’s a mansion in the countryside which represents a “domestic prison”; there’s madness and a mental asylum; there is – Rebecca-like – the intangible presence of a dead wife; there’s even a walk-in role for a detective as we venture into crime story territory. On another level, the novel is also an Angela-Carteresque feminist fairy tale retelling – which is wholly appropriate considering that at the dark heart of its plot lies a precious edition of a book of fairy tales.

So why didn’t I like this novel? First of all, traditional Gothic tales were strong on atmosphere, with descriptions of settings being particularly important. I challenge any reader however to give a decent description of the buildings where the action in this book takes place. Everything remains vague and unreal. Indeed, the novel at times reminds me of some modernist stagings of 19th Century opera where the traditional lavish scenery is replaced by symbolic minimalist props. I don’t mind it in opera, but I certainly did here. Even the language is bare and spare, sometimes bordering on the simplistic, with some concepts put across with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

This approach is probably deliberate, to focus on the drama going on within the protagonist’s mind without the distractions of stylistic trappings. The problem however is that neither the protagonist, nor the other characters ever seem develop. Nor are we given any background to them beyond what is strictly necessary for the story to work. We don’t learn anything about their past, and are not given any hints as to why they do what they do. They seem to be archetypes rather than flesh and blood characters. Just as in fairy tales, I hear you say. Could be, but it certainly didn’t make me feel “involved”.

Some readers were lavish in their praises of this novel, so mine could be just an issue of taste. It might well be that others were drawn to the same elements which put me off. Indeed, I look forward to reading other Alice Thompson novels which might make me change my mind about her work.… (més)

A young woman marries a rich, noble widower after a whirlwind romance. Regrets soon set in when this supposed "fairytale match" turns out to be disappointingly different from what was bargained for.

The same description could more or less sum up my relationship with this frustrating novel. Reading the blurb on the back of the back and the initial chapters, I thought that “The Book Collector” would be right up my street. Set in Edwardian England, it revels in the tropes of the Gothic and “sensation novels”, two genres I particularly like. There’s a vulnerable female protagonist from whose (unreliable) perspective the story is recounted; there’s an abusive husband with a shady past and even shadier present; there’s a mansion in the countryside which represents a “domestic prison”; there’s madness and a mental asylum; there is – Rebecca-like – the intangible presence of a dead wife; there’s even a walk-in role for a detective as we venture into crime story territory. On another level, the novel is also an Angela-Carteresque feminist fairy tale retelling – which is wholly appropriate considering that at the dark heart of its plot lies a precious edition of a book of fairy tales.

So why didn’t I like this novel? First of all, traditional Gothic tales were strong on atmosphere, with descriptions of settings being particularly important. I challenge any reader however to give a decent description of the buildings where the action in this book takes place. Everything remains vague and unreal. Indeed, the novel at times reminds me of some modernist stagings of 19th Century opera where the traditional lavish scenery is replaced by symbolic minimalist props. I don’t mind it in opera, but I certainly did here. Even the language is bare and spare, sometimes bordering on the simplistic, with some concepts put across with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

This approach is probably deliberate, to focus on the drama going on within the protagonist’s mind without the distractions of stylistic trappings. The problem however is that neither the protagonist, nor the other characters ever seem develop. Nor are we given any background to them beyond what is strictly necessary for the story to work. We don’t learn anything about their past, and are not given any hints as to why they do what they do. They seem to be archetypes rather than flesh and blood characters. Just as in fairy tales, I hear you say. Could be, but it certainly didn’t make me feel “involved”.

Some readers were lavish in their praises of this novel, so mine could be just an issue of taste. It might well be that others were drawn to the same elements which put me off. Indeed, I look forward to reading other Alice Thompson novels which might make me change my mind about her work.… (més)

I could handle the strange prose since it's trying to create a ghostly atmosphere, but I couldn't get through when Charlotte came into play. Why why WHY did the narrative put down a character who is respected by the main male characters, hardworking, and emotionally stable, for not being obviously, unabashedly SEXY in a plot where that's not even relevant? ?????????????????????????? Finally get a woman who exists not to be a romantic interest, and the narrative puts her down for it. And that's where I put the book down.… (més)