Status
Available
Publication
New York : Scribner, 2005.
Description
Named by AudioFile magazine as one of the Best Audiobooks of 2005, this unforgettable audio performance represents the best of what the medium can do. Colm Tóibín tells the story of Henry James, the famous novelist born into one of America's intellectual first families two decades before the Civil War, and who left his country to live in Paris, Rome, Venice, and London among privileged artists and writers. In stunningly resonant prose, Tóibín captures the loneliness and longing, the hope and despair of a man who never married, who never resolved his sexual identity, and whose forays into intimacy inevitably failed him and those he tried to love. The emotional intensity of Tóibín's portrait of James is riveting. Time and again, James, a master of psychological subtlety in his fiction, proves blind to his own heart.… (more)
Media reviews
''The Master'' is sure to be greatly admired by James devotees; just as surely it will strike less ardent readers as the kind of book in which not much actually happens.
Whatever Toibin's literary-critical and ideological interest in James, ''The Master'' is unquestionably the work of a first-rate novelist -- one who has for the past decade been writing excellent novels about people cut off from their feelings or families or both.
User reviews
LibraryThing member phebj
I started this book back in March and was captivated by the beginning. Unfortunately, it slowed down about 75 pages in and I put it aside for almost a month. I’m so glad I picked it up again because I ended up loving it.
It’s a fictionalized account of the life of the writer Henry James that
Toibin paints a picture of a man that was well-liked and a sought after guest at social affairs but one that relished his solitude. This was one of my favorite passages in the book:
"He loved the glorious silence a morning brought, knowing that he had no appointments that afternoon and no engagements that evening. He had grown fat on solitude, he thought, and had learned to expect nothing from the day but at best a dull contentment. Sometimes the dullness came to the fore with a strange and insistent ache which he would entertain briefly, but learn to keep at bay. Mostly, however, it was the contentment he entertained; the slow ease and the silence could, once night had fallen, fill him with a happiness that nothing, no society nor the company of any individual, no glamour or glitter, could equal."
The case builds throughout the novel that James was very repressed, especially sexually, but it’s hard to know how much this bothered him. He never married, never had children and often distanced himself from close friends and family but for the most part I didn’t see him as an unhappy person. He was a great observer of life and was successful at conveying that in his writing which he obviously derived a lot of satisfaction from.
I would highly recommend this book even if you know nothing about Henry James. It’s a beautiful portrait of a unique life that’s not to be missed.
It’s a fictionalized account of the life of the writer Henry James that
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takes place during the last five years of the 19th century when the work James was doing would earn him the nickname “The Master.” Each chapter is marked by a month and year in that period but Henry spends so much of his time ruminating about past events that you get a good picture of the course of his life up through his mid-fifties.Toibin paints a picture of a man that was well-liked and a sought after guest at social affairs but one that relished his solitude. This was one of my favorite passages in the book:
"He loved the glorious silence a morning brought, knowing that he had no appointments that afternoon and no engagements that evening. He had grown fat on solitude, he thought, and had learned to expect nothing from the day but at best a dull contentment. Sometimes the dullness came to the fore with a strange and insistent ache which he would entertain briefly, but learn to keep at bay. Mostly, however, it was the contentment he entertained; the slow ease and the silence could, once night had fallen, fill him with a happiness that nothing, no society nor the company of any individual, no glamour or glitter, could equal."
The case builds throughout the novel that James was very repressed, especially sexually, but it’s hard to know how much this bothered him. He never married, never had children and often distanced himself from close friends and family but for the most part I didn’t see him as an unhappy person. He was a great observer of life and was successful at conveying that in his writing which he obviously derived a lot of satisfaction from.
I would highly recommend this book even if you know nothing about Henry James. It’s a beautiful portrait of a unique life that’s not to be missed.
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LibraryThing member japaul22
[The Master] is excellent biographical fiction about American author, Henry James, living and writing in Europe. Toibin focuses on the middle of James's career 1895-1899 including many flashbacks about his personal life and writing. During this time he settled in Rye, England, purchasing a house,
Toibin seems to really capture James's personality in this book. Rather than a discovery of James through his known travels, correspondence, etc, Toibin uses these facts in the background to create a real character study. He subtly reveals James's habits of observation and how they were used to create his work. He also illuminates the personality traits of this fussy, particular, sensitive man in a way that made me feel fondness rather than annoyance, a great feat on Toibin's part as these are characteristics that drive me crazy!
Reading this book in tandem with [The Ambassadors] was a great experience for me. I really identified with Toibin's take on Henry James and could see how James's personality and writing style converged. This book may make me a bit more patient with James's wordiness (or not, but I hope so) and definitely will make me more appreciate the power of his characterization and observation. I do think James has a knack for creating seeming mundane situations that take on great importance in a character's life. I like that.
Toibin created excellent biographical fiction in which you can hear James's voice and witness his character all the way through the book, with no shift to an omniscient perspective or intrusion by the author. I thought it was a wise choice to present this book in third person limited. I got immersed in James without having to get too personal if it was in first person. Henry James does not seem to be the sort of person who could have given away his thoughts, even in his own head, so first person would have been too revealing.
Really excellent book.
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and had already written Daisy Miller and The Portrait of a Lady. He was yet to write The Ambassadors, The Wings of the Dove, and the Golden Bowl. Toibin seems to really capture James's personality in this book. Rather than a discovery of James through his known travels, correspondence, etc, Toibin uses these facts in the background to create a real character study. He subtly reveals James's habits of observation and how they were used to create his work. He also illuminates the personality traits of this fussy, particular, sensitive man in a way that made me feel fondness rather than annoyance, a great feat on Toibin's part as these are characteristics that drive me crazy!
Reading this book in tandem with [The Ambassadors] was a great experience for me. I really identified with Toibin's take on Henry James and could see how James's personality and writing style converged. This book may make me a bit more patient with James's wordiness (or not, but I hope so) and definitely will make me more appreciate the power of his characterization and observation. I do think James has a knack for creating seeming mundane situations that take on great importance in a character's life. I like that.
Toibin created excellent biographical fiction in which you can hear James's voice and witness his character all the way through the book, with no shift to an omniscient perspective or intrusion by the author. I thought it was a wise choice to present this book in third person limited. I got immersed in James without having to get too personal if it was in first person. Henry James does not seem to be the sort of person who could have given away his thoughts, even in his own head, so first person would have been too revealing.
Really excellent book.
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LibraryThing member baswood
The Master in question is Henry James and Tóibín has written an historical fiction which blurs the borders with biography. He has attempted to put his readers into the thoughts and feelings of James when he was already a successful author, revered and loved by many. His book starts with James
Tóibìn examines in some detail the themes that surround the life of this author; an American exiled in Europe writing about Americans abroad, his seemingly repressed sexuality (homosexuality). his difficulties in becoming intimate with any one human being and his ambiguity about his need for his own space and order in his life. As this is Tóibín writing, expect no sensationalism, but a sympathetic portrait that I think succeeds in getting under the skin of a gentle man who was a little out of step with the society that he portrayed so brilliantly in his novels. Tóibín’s understated prose fits perfectly with the character, who he succeeds in bringing to life in this compelling biography.
Henry James moved in the upper echelons of society, he came from a respected American family and could quickly adapt to living in England and the rest of Europe, he knew how to behave and his manners were impeccable. Towards the end of his book Tóibin has the Baroness von Rabe tell Henry James some home truths and as readers we wince at her accuracy, but it does not jolt our sympathy for him. The scene is at a gathering of American exiles in Rome and the Baroness succeeds in hitting her target when she says to him:
“I remember you when you were young and all the ladies followed you, nay fought with each other to go riding with you. That Mrs Sumner and young Miss Boott and young Miss Lowe. All the young ladies and those not so young. We all liked you and I suppose you liked us as well, but you were too busy gathering material to like anyone too much. You were charming of course, but you were like a young banker collecting our savings. Or a priest listening to our sins. I remember my aunt warning me not to tell you anything”
She leaned towards him conspiratorially.
“and I think that is what you are still doing. I don’t think you have retired. I wish however you would write more clearly and i’m sure the young sculptor, who is watching you, I’m sure he wishes the same.”
We know that this is not the whole story. Tóibín while describing the significant events in the years covered by the book also fills in important details of James’ earlier life, particularly his relationship with his brothers and sister and his family background. For example in the chapter dealing with May 1896; James is finding it difficult to write, he has a sort of repetitive strain injury and this leads him to reminisce about other issues that were important in his life and we learn about his family and their involvement in the American Civil War. This background ‘filling in’ becomes part of the biography and succeeds in presenting to us a full and rounded picture of Henry James. The first chapter headed January 1985 tells us about the opening night of James’ play Guy Domville. It is a disaster and James as a nervous author cannot bear to be in the theatre and takes himself off to a production of Oscar Willde’s The importance of Being Ernest. James does not like the play and significantly cannot understand why the audience finds it so amusing. James himself understands that the life of a playwright is exciting, the social interaction with directors and actors is stimulating, it is something he wishes he could do, but realises he is more suited to the lonely life of a novelist. The comparison with Wilde’s openly gay persona is also a marked contrast with Henry James’ closet homosexuality. It all points to one of the major themes of the book which is James’ inability for intimacy and it is this which Toibin suggests both shapes and defines his art.
Tóibin surmises that James felt intense guilt about his failure to do what was expected by friends who he became particularly close to. Others accuse him of not being there for a couple of his female friends at their time of need, and it is this which pushes Tóibíns book into the realms of conjecture. We cannot know what Henry James felt, but it is the novelists job to make us think that we do and this is what makes this meta biography such an absorbing read. The period detail is lovingly described and we sense Henry James’ pride in his position in the world. It is a biography that goes further than telling a story of a life and so it would appeal to readers who have not read, or even know nothing about Henry James. It is a portrait of a man and his times and for me a four star read.
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unsuccessful attempts at becoming a playwright in 1895 and takes us through to 1899 when the author was 57 years old and still had what many critics believe to be his major achievements in front of him.Tóibìn examines in some detail the themes that surround the life of this author; an American exiled in Europe writing about Americans abroad, his seemingly repressed sexuality (homosexuality). his difficulties in becoming intimate with any one human being and his ambiguity about his need for his own space and order in his life. As this is Tóibín writing, expect no sensationalism, but a sympathetic portrait that I think succeeds in getting under the skin of a gentle man who was a little out of step with the society that he portrayed so brilliantly in his novels. Tóibín’s understated prose fits perfectly with the character, who he succeeds in bringing to life in this compelling biography.
Henry James moved in the upper echelons of society, he came from a respected American family and could quickly adapt to living in England and the rest of Europe, he knew how to behave and his manners were impeccable. Towards the end of his book Tóibin has the Baroness von Rabe tell Henry James some home truths and as readers we wince at her accuracy, but it does not jolt our sympathy for him. The scene is at a gathering of American exiles in Rome and the Baroness succeeds in hitting her target when she says to him:
“I remember you when you were young and all the ladies followed you, nay fought with each other to go riding with you. That Mrs Sumner and young Miss Boott and young Miss Lowe. All the young ladies and those not so young. We all liked you and I suppose you liked us as well, but you were too busy gathering material to like anyone too much. You were charming of course, but you were like a young banker collecting our savings. Or a priest listening to our sins. I remember my aunt warning me not to tell you anything”
She leaned towards him conspiratorially.
“and I think that is what you are still doing. I don’t think you have retired. I wish however you would write more clearly and i’m sure the young sculptor, who is watching you, I’m sure he wishes the same.”
We know that this is not the whole story. Tóibín while describing the significant events in the years covered by the book also fills in important details of James’ earlier life, particularly his relationship with his brothers and sister and his family background. For example in the chapter dealing with May 1896; James is finding it difficult to write, he has a sort of repetitive strain injury and this leads him to reminisce about other issues that were important in his life and we learn about his family and their involvement in the American Civil War. This background ‘filling in’ becomes part of the biography and succeeds in presenting to us a full and rounded picture of Henry James. The first chapter headed January 1985 tells us about the opening night of James’ play Guy Domville. It is a disaster and James as a nervous author cannot bear to be in the theatre and takes himself off to a production of Oscar Willde’s The importance of Being Ernest. James does not like the play and significantly cannot understand why the audience finds it so amusing. James himself understands that the life of a playwright is exciting, the social interaction with directors and actors is stimulating, it is something he wishes he could do, but realises he is more suited to the lonely life of a novelist. The comparison with Wilde’s openly gay persona is also a marked contrast with Henry James’ closet homosexuality. It all points to one of the major themes of the book which is James’ inability for intimacy and it is this which Toibin suggests both shapes and defines his art.
Tóibin surmises that James felt intense guilt about his failure to do what was expected by friends who he became particularly close to. Others accuse him of not being there for a couple of his female friends at their time of need, and it is this which pushes Tóibíns book into the realms of conjecture. We cannot know what Henry James felt, but it is the novelists job to make us think that we do and this is what makes this meta biography such an absorbing read. The period detail is lovingly described and we sense Henry James’ pride in his position in the world. It is a biography that goes further than telling a story of a life and so it would appeal to readers who have not read, or even know nothing about Henry James. It is a portrait of a man and his times and for me a four star read.
Show Less
LibraryThing member janeajones
I found The Master, Tóibín's biographical novel about Henry James both fascinating and occasionally tedious. Tóibín uses a selective omniscient narrator to get into James's head to seemingly reveal how his reactions, musings and reminiscences informed the crafting of his novels. In actuality,
The action of the novel takes place from 1895-1899 when James was in his fifties. However we learn much about James earlier in his life as he remembers incidents and people from his younger days. The major people with whom James interacts are his siblings, William and Alice; his cousin, Minnie Temple; his friend, the novelist, Constance Fenimore Woolson; and the Scandinavian-American sculptor, Hendrik Christian Andersen. But James seems unable to form deeply intimate ties with anyone -- he needs his own space and solitude. Tóibín does not judge the Master -- he seeks to understand him.
As there are many allusions to the more famous of James's novel in this book, it helps to be somewhat familar with his work.
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however, what Tóibín has done is used the novels (and undoubtedly biographies and critical studies) to craft his own portrait of James in this novel. Tóibín creates a psychological portrait of James that resembles the kind of psychological portrait of characters created by Henry James himself. If that sounds circular, it is, but it is intriguing.The action of the novel takes place from 1895-1899 when James was in his fifties. However we learn much about James earlier in his life as he remembers incidents and people from his younger days. The major people with whom James interacts are his siblings, William and Alice; his cousin, Minnie Temple; his friend, the novelist, Constance Fenimore Woolson; and the Scandinavian-American sculptor, Hendrik Christian Andersen. But James seems unable to form deeply intimate ties with anyone -- he needs his own space and solitude. Tóibín does not judge the Master -- he seeks to understand him.
As there are many allusions to the more famous of James's novel in this book, it helps to be somewhat familar with his work.
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LibraryThing member lilithcat
Five years in the life of Henry James, the late '90's, beginning with the production and abysmal failure of his play, Guy Domville. These are the years of What Maisie Knew, The Spoils of Poynton, The Awkward Age.
It is a dangerous thing to write a novel which is a psychological portrait of Henry
He has also shunned any sort of plot, preferring instead to simply give us a picture of James through his own thoughts, memories and actions. It is a complex picture, and ultimately a sad one.
James was an observer of life, more than a participant in its passions, yet Tóibín shows us the undercurrents. His James is not the repressed New Englander so often described, but more a man who, while having emotions, and recognizing them, cannot allow himself to be vulnerable to them. As a result, he may appear cold and unfeeling,. Indeed, when he is accused by his old friend, Oliver Wendell Holmes, of failing to take their friend, Minny Temple, to Italy, an act which might have mitigated the TB that killed her, he has to hunt up her old letters to see if she really did ask him to do that.
Anyone familiar with James' work will recognize those moments and ideas which will eventually be transmuted into various stories and novels. (It is, in fact, rather fun to say to oneself, "Aha! Turn of the Screw! ") Tóibín frequently alludes to the way in which all is grist to the writer's mill. It is not only James, of course. Describing James' trip to Venice after the suicide of his friend, the novelist Constance Fenimore Woolson, he writes: "This, he thought, was her last novel. They all played their assigned roles. He watched as the American women stood in her bedroom afraid to approach the window to the small balcony from which she had jumped. Constance would have been able to conjure up their stricken faces and would have known, too, that Henry James would have studied the women, observing them with cold sympathy. She would have smiled to herself at his ability to keep his own feeling a a great distance from himself, careful to say nothing. Thus the scene taking place in this room, each breath they took, the very expresssions on their faces, each word they left said and unsaid, all of it belonged to Constance. It was pictured by her with wry interest during the time when she knew she would die, Henry believed. They were her characters; she had written the script for them. And she knew that Henry would recognize her art in these scenes. His very recognition was part of her dream. No matter where he looked or what he thought, he felt the sharpness of her plans and a sort of sad laughter at how easy it was to manipulate her sister and her niece and how delicious to direct the actions of her friend the novelist who, it seemed, had wished to be free of her. "
Oscar Wilde is introduced as a counter-point to James, the man who indulged his passions juxtaposed with the man who refused them. As Wilde's triumphant dramatic career turns to ashes, James observes it in a detached, yet sympathetic, manner. Tóibín does not shirk the issue of James' sexuality (which, whatever his inclinations, he seems not to have indulged), and there is much homoeroticism here. James clearly recognizes his feelings (of a night spent platonically sharing a bed with Holmes, he " wondered if he would ever again be so intensely alive"). But he cannot give in to them.
Tóibín's James is a man who prefers to look on, sympathetically, ironically, indulgently, analytically, but alone and in control. At the end, his brother and his family having left after a visit, James returns home. "Lamb House was his again. He moved around it relishing the silence and the emptiness. He welcomed the Scot, who was waiting for him to begin a day's work, but he needed more time alone first. He walked up and down the stairs, going into the rooms as though they, too, in how they yielded to him, belonged to an unrecoverable past, and would join the room with the tasseled tablecloths and the screens and the shadowed corners, and all the other rooms from whose windows he had observed the world, so that they could be remembered and captured and held."
It is a dangerous thing to write a novel which is a psychological portrait of Henry
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James, the great master of the psychological novel. Tóibín succeeds wonderfully, avoiding the temptation to imitate James' style. (There is quite an amusing passage when Henry's elder brother, William, tries to tell him what he should write about and how. "Harry, I find I have to read innumerable sentences you now write twice over to see what they could possibly mean."He has also shunned any sort of plot, preferring instead to simply give us a picture of James through his own thoughts, memories and actions. It is a complex picture, and ultimately a sad one.
James was an observer of life, more than a participant in its passions, yet Tóibín shows us the undercurrents. His James is not the repressed New Englander so often described, but more a man who, while having emotions, and recognizing them, cannot allow himself to be vulnerable to them. As a result, he may appear cold and unfeeling,. Indeed, when he is accused by his old friend, Oliver Wendell Holmes, of failing to take their friend, Minny Temple, to Italy, an act which might have mitigated the TB that killed her, he has to hunt up her old letters to see if she really did ask him to do that.
Anyone familiar with James' work will recognize those moments and ideas which will eventually be transmuted into various stories and novels. (It is, in fact, rather fun to say to oneself, "Aha! Turn of the Screw! ") Tóibín frequently alludes to the way in which all is grist to the writer's mill. It is not only James, of course. Describing James' trip to Venice after the suicide of his friend, the novelist Constance Fenimore Woolson, he writes: "This, he thought, was her last novel. They all played their assigned roles. He watched as the American women stood in her bedroom afraid to approach the window to the small balcony from which she had jumped. Constance would have been able to conjure up their stricken faces and would have known, too, that Henry James would have studied the women, observing them with cold sympathy. She would have smiled to herself at his ability to keep his own feeling a a great distance from himself, careful to say nothing. Thus the scene taking place in this room, each breath they took, the very expresssions on their faces, each word they left said and unsaid, all of it belonged to Constance. It was pictured by her with wry interest during the time when she knew she would die, Henry believed. They were her characters; she had written the script for them. And she knew that Henry would recognize her art in these scenes. His very recognition was part of her dream. No matter where he looked or what he thought, he felt the sharpness of her plans and a sort of sad laughter at how easy it was to manipulate her sister and her niece and how delicious to direct the actions of her friend the novelist who, it seemed, had wished to be free of her. "
Oscar Wilde is introduced as a counter-point to James, the man who indulged his passions juxtaposed with the man who refused them. As Wilde's triumphant dramatic career turns to ashes, James observes it in a detached, yet sympathetic, manner. Tóibín does not shirk the issue of James' sexuality (which, whatever his inclinations, he seems not to have indulged), and there is much homoeroticism here. James clearly recognizes his feelings (of a night spent platonically sharing a bed with Holmes, he " wondered if he would ever again be so intensely alive"). But he cannot give in to them.
Tóibín's James is a man who prefers to look on, sympathetically, ironically, indulgently, analytically, but alone and in control. At the end, his brother and his family having left after a visit, James returns home. "Lamb House was his again. He moved around it relishing the silence and the emptiness. He welcomed the Scot, who was waiting for him to begin a day's work, but he needed more time alone first. He walked up and down the stairs, going into the rooms as though they, too, in how they yielded to him, belonged to an unrecoverable past, and would join the room with the tasseled tablecloths and the screens and the shadowed corners, and all the other rooms from whose windows he had observed the world, so that they could be remembered and captured and held."
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LibraryThing member Crazymamie
I loved this one! My favorite read of January. This is one of those novels featuring a blend of truth and supposition that can bring a moment in time to life, letting the reader feel as if he or she is invading personal space. Here, Tóibín explores the life of Henry James, and it is brilliantly
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done. It has made me want to go back and reread James' masterpiece [Portrait of a Lady] - I was really unhappy with the ending of that one, and there is a conversation presented here between James and his niece (a precocious reader) about why he ended the novel the way that he did, and it elevated that novel for me. James drew so much of his writing from personal life, and here we get insights into what and who inspired some of his most famous characters and stories. Now I am wanting to read more about James and also [All a Novelist Needs: Colm Tóibín on Henry James], which is a collection of all of Tóibín's essays on James. Show Less
LibraryThing member m.belljackson
Even for those readers for whom Henry James is definitely not The Master, the insights into his personality, passive behavior, and precise, calculating expression of emotions
illuminate the often solitary life of a writer. The pace of the book veers into belabored, considering, as James does in his
of many boring rich people's concerns.
Death pervades much of the mood and readers will likely wish that he had stayed with the beloved dying cousin who loved him above all others rather than taking off on a pleasure
trip to Rome, consoling her with tales of all the fun he was having. As well, it would have been welcome if the very well off James family had not made this young girl feel "penniless"
and without prospects, hastening her illness.
I sloughed through because this was the book I had chosen to fulfill the Irish Author Challenge and was near catatonic until William James came to Rye and spoke his mind!
Henry James wrote some great travelogue descriptions, but his novels can be wrenching, stilted with repression of feelings and actions.
illuminate the often solitary life of a writer. The pace of the book veers into belabored, considering, as James does in his
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books, almost every possible angle of considerationof many boring rich people's concerns.
Death pervades much of the mood and readers will likely wish that he had stayed with the beloved dying cousin who loved him above all others rather than taking off on a pleasure
trip to Rome, consoling her with tales of all the fun he was having. As well, it would have been welcome if the very well off James family had not made this young girl feel "penniless"
and without prospects, hastening her illness.
I sloughed through because this was the book I had chosen to fulfill the Irish Author Challenge and was near catatonic until William James came to Rye and spoke his mind!
Henry James wrote some great travelogue descriptions, but his novels can be wrenching, stilted with repression of feelings and actions.
Show Less
LibraryThing member rab1953
This is a masterful book about a masterful subject – Henry James and his writing. The book opens with an imagined nighttime awakening from which James thinks about his day and how it might go. In a few paragraphs, he condenses the tone and content that he then fills out and details in the rest of
Though the book is called The Master, the title could almost be ironic. As portrayed by Tóibín, James is uncertain, often uncomprehending, self-doubting and self-deceiving. He misreads his support in London after his first and only play opens and fails on its first night, then flees to Ireland rather than face his friends. He allows a domineering acquaintance to push him into furnishing his home with items he doesn’t really want. He allows his servants to appear drunk and slovenly in front of guests rather than confront them. Most disastrously, he allows his closest friend, a woman, to fall in love with him, but rather than talk about it, he avoids her, leading or contributing to her recent suicide. (Following which, he manages to have himself appointed her literary executor, and secretly burns any compromising correspondence with her.) He has strong homoerotic feelings without even acknowledging them for what they are (understandable in the context of the times, when Oscar Wilde, whom James thinks shallow and clumsy, faces his own disgrace and imprisonment). Far from being a master, this view of James has him as a diffident, ineffectual stumbler.
Yet he observes and interprets what he sees around him as the basis for a lifetime of deeply sensitive, insightful literature. In spite of the frequent misunderstanding of his readers, his family and friends, he stays fixed to his conception of his writing. He thinks about style, themes, content for a variety of stories in the course of the novel (and it’s fascinating to see where well known stories like The Turn of the Screw come from – curious also to find out how much ghosts, both spectral and metaphorical, fit into his life and his writing). He pulls themes from his own complex relationships with his family and friends, and from what he understands, or is willing to admit, about them. Underlying much of the characterization of James is his repression of his homosexuality, which leads to his need to control and hide so much of his life from others and from himself. And yet, while struggling to repress, or at least control, his life, he somehow has enough awareness to use his observations as fodder for his stories. He is, in fact, a master in his writing. It is fitting that the book ends with James explaining to a friend that “the moral … is that life is a mystery and that only sentences are beautiful.” After which, he sends his friends home and returns to his writing.
Tóibín himself writes with a control and insight that seem equal to James’. As a skilled writer himself, and author of a previous book on James, I can see his fascination with the details of James’ life and writing process. He uses James’s own style, complex and internal, on James himself, a kind of homage to a literary master. He traces the development of James’ thinking, his development of story ideas, his resentment of other people’s misinformed views of his writing and his appreciation of the few who do understand him. In James’ interior monologues, Tóibín traces the shifting relationships and sense of control, just as James would do in his own writing. I wonder how much of this is Tóibín’s imagining of the literary process taken from his own insight as a masterful writer, and how much comes from his research into James’ thinking from James’ letters and other personal writing. I think it must be at least as much the former as the latter, for this is a work of imagination, not simply a knitting together of various stories from James. And, as always in fictions about real people, the stories are about the author’s characters, not the people they are modeled on.
In the end, the book gives me an insight, not only into James’ life, but also into his stories. It makes me want to read more James. But it also introduces me to Tóibín as a skilled novelist that I want to read more.
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the book. Though the book is called The Master, the title could almost be ironic. As portrayed by Tóibín, James is uncertain, often uncomprehending, self-doubting and self-deceiving. He misreads his support in London after his first and only play opens and fails on its first night, then flees to Ireland rather than face his friends. He allows a domineering acquaintance to push him into furnishing his home with items he doesn’t really want. He allows his servants to appear drunk and slovenly in front of guests rather than confront them. Most disastrously, he allows his closest friend, a woman, to fall in love with him, but rather than talk about it, he avoids her, leading or contributing to her recent suicide. (Following which, he manages to have himself appointed her literary executor, and secretly burns any compromising correspondence with her.) He has strong homoerotic feelings without even acknowledging them for what they are (understandable in the context of the times, when Oscar Wilde, whom James thinks shallow and clumsy, faces his own disgrace and imprisonment). Far from being a master, this view of James has him as a diffident, ineffectual stumbler.
Yet he observes and interprets what he sees around him as the basis for a lifetime of deeply sensitive, insightful literature. In spite of the frequent misunderstanding of his readers, his family and friends, he stays fixed to his conception of his writing. He thinks about style, themes, content for a variety of stories in the course of the novel (and it’s fascinating to see where well known stories like The Turn of the Screw come from – curious also to find out how much ghosts, both spectral and metaphorical, fit into his life and his writing). He pulls themes from his own complex relationships with his family and friends, and from what he understands, or is willing to admit, about them. Underlying much of the characterization of James is his repression of his homosexuality, which leads to his need to control and hide so much of his life from others and from himself. And yet, while struggling to repress, or at least control, his life, he somehow has enough awareness to use his observations as fodder for his stories. He is, in fact, a master in his writing. It is fitting that the book ends with James explaining to a friend that “the moral … is that life is a mystery and that only sentences are beautiful.” After which, he sends his friends home and returns to his writing.
Tóibín himself writes with a control and insight that seem equal to James’. As a skilled writer himself, and author of a previous book on James, I can see his fascination with the details of James’ life and writing process. He uses James’s own style, complex and internal, on James himself, a kind of homage to a literary master. He traces the development of James’ thinking, his development of story ideas, his resentment of other people’s misinformed views of his writing and his appreciation of the few who do understand him. In James’ interior monologues, Tóibín traces the shifting relationships and sense of control, just as James would do in his own writing. I wonder how much of this is Tóibín’s imagining of the literary process taken from his own insight as a masterful writer, and how much comes from his research into James’ thinking from James’ letters and other personal writing. I think it must be at least as much the former as the latter, for this is a work of imagination, not simply a knitting together of various stories from James. And, as always in fictions about real people, the stories are about the author’s characters, not the people they are modeled on.
In the end, the book gives me an insight, not only into James’ life, but also into his stories. It makes me want to read more James. But it also introduces me to Tóibín as a skilled novelist that I want to read more.
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LibraryThing member lucybrown
The fictionalized biography can be a vexing thing! Often focusing on the scandalous or the trivial, sadly out of tune with its inspiration. This fictionalized account of James' life, or a part of it, is lovingly in tune and seems an even better mirror of him than the straight biographies which
One of the things that most caught my attention is Toibin's awareness of James' almost peculiar anxiety for the care and tending of children. It has always struck me as odd that a man who was himself childless, did not spend much time in the company of children, and indeed, seemed to never have ever been a child himself and, finally, even as a child did not have much association with children should take such a deep and anxious interest in children. In the novel, he is keenly interested and saddened by the situation of Oscar Wilde's young sons and concerned for the well-being of a young girl named Mona who is, or it seems to his mind, being unconsciously, or maybe even actually abused by the guests at a house party in Ireland. He is concerned that the child is not properly chaperoned and that she is made much of at an adults' ball and is vaguely sexualized. So often children in James' books suffer from indifferent care or are used in a most calculated way of exacting revenge. From a callow reading of his work one might think that he is using them only as the ultimate examples to highlight is theme of innocence versus corruption. However, readers of What Maise Knew can be only but painfully aware of James' deep concern and anxiety for children. Interestingly the question of the child Mona, which was highly suggestive of the adults at least unwittingly sexualizing the girl, if not actually abusing her, was never returned to. It lingered in my mind exactly what the author was trying to get at. As the tireless efforts Josephine Butler uncovered, child prostitution and the shunting of these children from one wealthy household to another was hardly a secret and seems to have been a vice endemic of the European aristocracy. I still wonder if this is what Toibin was suggesting. James is certainly unsettled by the girl and her presence at a gathering which is all adults, excepting her. In true Jamesian fashion it is left a mystery.
For the most part I find The Master a masterful portrait of a complex man, a man who had a genius for subtlety and observation. Toibin captures James as well as any biography ever has, and he has done so much in the manner of James, to wit, the Mona episode.
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never seem to capture the subtleties of this most subtle of men and minds. I am in awe of the way Toibin has not only captured the man but also his time. He has a rare sensibility and understanding of the nature of this deeply conflicted author.One of the things that most caught my attention is Toibin's awareness of James' almost peculiar anxiety for the care and tending of children. It has always struck me as odd that a man who was himself childless, did not spend much time in the company of children, and indeed, seemed to never have ever been a child himself and, finally, even as a child did not have much association with children should take such a deep and anxious interest in children. In the novel, he is keenly interested and saddened by the situation of Oscar Wilde's young sons and concerned for the well-being of a young girl named Mona who is, or it seems to his mind, being unconsciously, or maybe even actually abused by the guests at a house party in Ireland. He is concerned that the child is not properly chaperoned and that she is made much of at an adults' ball and is vaguely sexualized. So often children in James' books suffer from indifferent care or are used in a most calculated way of exacting revenge. From a callow reading of his work one might think that he is using them only as the ultimate examples to highlight is theme of innocence versus corruption. However, readers of What Maise Knew can be only but painfully aware of James' deep concern and anxiety for children. Interestingly the question of the child Mona, which was highly suggestive of the adults at least unwittingly sexualizing the girl, if not actually abusing her, was never returned to. It lingered in my mind exactly what the author was trying to get at. As the tireless efforts Josephine Butler uncovered, child prostitution and the shunting of these children from one wealthy household to another was hardly a secret and seems to have been a vice endemic of the European aristocracy. I still wonder if this is what Toibin was suggesting. James is certainly unsettled by the girl and her presence at a gathering which is all adults, excepting her. In true Jamesian fashion it is left a mystery.
For the most part I find The Master a masterful portrait of a complex man, a man who had a genius for subtlety and observation. Toibin captures James as well as any biography ever has, and he has done so much in the manner of James, to wit, the Mona episode.
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LibraryThing member bookworm12
This is a slightly fictionalized account of the later years of novelist Henry James’ solitary life. He struggles to balances his social life and his desire for solitude. He represses his sexuality, never allowing anyone to become too close. He lives in the sea of regrets and guilt, blaming
It’s a very cold book. It reminded me a little bit of The Remains of the Day, in which an English butler reminisces about the past. But unlike that book, The Master lacked the beautiful language that made Remains so captivating. It’s a poignant reminder that refusing to live an honest life can make a person very lonely.
BOTTOM LINE: The book may be an accurate representation of how Henry James lived his life, but it’s hard for a reader to be drawn into the world of someone who keeps themselves completely separate.
** I think that having read a lot of James’ work would add to your appreciation of the book.
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himself for the unhappiness of so many others. He’s never happy with all the choices he has made or the number of successes and failures he’s had. He grieves the loss of friends and family members. He avoids conflict at any cost, often sacrifices his own comfort in life to avoid confrontation. The end result is a man that’s difficult to connect to. It’s a very cold book. It reminded me a little bit of The Remains of the Day, in which an English butler reminisces about the past. But unlike that book, The Master lacked the beautiful language that made Remains so captivating. It’s a poignant reminder that refusing to live an honest life can make a person very lonely.
BOTTOM LINE: The book may be an accurate representation of how Henry James lived his life, but it’s hard for a reader to be drawn into the world of someone who keeps themselves completely separate.
** I think that having read a lot of James’ work would add to your appreciation of the book.
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LibraryThing member dczapka
I had to sit and ruminate frequently while reading The Master: it's a book that demands patience and unfolds very slowly and deliberately. In that respect, it's incredibly poetic with moments of very beautiful prose.
Unfortunately, the stylistic flourishes are in service of a book that is frankly
The problem, I feel, is that the novel feels as if it is a series of portraits, drawn masterfully and in exquisite detail, but static and unmoving: little happens in the later chapters and much of the book is written without the benefit of dialogue, so that Tóibín forces the reader to trust his eye to show the truth of each scenario.
The earlier, shorter chapters, as well as the extended sequence explaining Henry's relationship with Constance Fenimore Woolson, work much better than other chapters that feel painfully plodding. Even the character sketches, though thorough, aren't especially exciting or revelatory.
Maybe I missed something, but it feels like something -- namely, perhaps, action -- is missing from The Master, and because of that it represents little more than a lesson in style rather than a truly great novel.
Unfortunately, the stylistic flourishes are in service of a book that is frankly
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uninteresting and not especially engaging. I suppose that's part of the risk an author takes when writing an historical novel about a real person, but Henry James rarely comes off in the novel as a person we care much about. He is mostly quiet and stoic, and the brief moments of true emotion don't reveal as much as we might expect them to.The problem, I feel, is that the novel feels as if it is a series of portraits, drawn masterfully and in exquisite detail, but static and unmoving: little happens in the later chapters and much of the book is written without the benefit of dialogue, so that Tóibín forces the reader to trust his eye to show the truth of each scenario.
The earlier, shorter chapters, as well as the extended sequence explaining Henry's relationship with Constance Fenimore Woolson, work much better than other chapters that feel painfully plodding. Even the character sketches, though thorough, aren't especially exciting or revelatory.
Maybe I missed something, but it feels like something -- namely, perhaps, action -- is missing from The Master, and because of that it represents little more than a lesson in style rather than a truly great novel.
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LibraryThing member KrisR
I loved this book. I thought Tóibín did a beautiful job adapting his style to one that was evocative of Henry James, although more easily readable. The novel moves with James to London, Ireland, Italy, and Rye, and effectively integrates James' memories of the past in flashbacks that come as
Tóibín has been described as a writer who is keenly interested in his characters' psychology and relationships, and this interest comes to the fore in The Master. James emerges very much as an isolated figure. He worries about how he appears to others, he struggles to maintain his composure, and in his zeal to maintain his privacy, he shies away from intimate relationships with others inside and outside of his family. He even (or especially) shields himself from knowledge of his true identity, particularly with regards to his sexuality. Tóibín's style, restrained and formal, beautifully (and sadly) conveys James' isolation and separation.
Finally, I also found Tóibín's depiction of James's writing process to be revealing. Through chapters that focus on James's relationships with important figures in his life, including his sister Alice, Tóibín explores ways in which James used his writing to communicate with, remember, and in some cases make amends to ghosts in his life. I was left thinking about the limitations on intimacy that this approach can lead to - the barriers a writer can erect by being an observer rather than an active participant, the instrumentality of relationships formed and experiences sought primarily to provide material for a novel or play, and the betrayal felt by friends and family when they read James's work only to see themselves appearing as characters.
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responses to his relationships, tensions, and interactions with others.Tóibín has been described as a writer who is keenly interested in his characters' psychology and relationships, and this interest comes to the fore in The Master. James emerges very much as an isolated figure. He worries about how he appears to others, he struggles to maintain his composure, and in his zeal to maintain his privacy, he shies away from intimate relationships with others inside and outside of his family. He even (or especially) shields himself from knowledge of his true identity, particularly with regards to his sexuality. Tóibín's style, restrained and formal, beautifully (and sadly) conveys James' isolation and separation.
Finally, I also found Tóibín's depiction of James's writing process to be revealing. Through chapters that focus on James's relationships with important figures in his life, including his sister Alice, Tóibín explores ways in which James used his writing to communicate with, remember, and in some cases make amends to ghosts in his life. I was left thinking about the limitations on intimacy that this approach can lead to - the barriers a writer can erect by being an observer rather than an active participant, the instrumentality of relationships formed and experiences sought primarily to provide material for a novel or play, and the betrayal felt by friends and family when they read James's work only to see themselves appearing as characters.
Show Less
LibraryThing member lucybrown
The fictionalized biography can be a vexing thing! Often focusing on the scandalous or the trivial, sadly out of tune with its inspiration. This fictionalized account of James' life, or a part of it, is lovingly in tune and seems an even better mirror of him than the straight biographies which
One of the things that most caught my attention is Toibin's awareness of James' almost peculiar anxiety for the care and tending of children. It has always struck me as odd that a man who was himself childless, did not spend much time in the company of children, and indeed, seemed to never have ever been a child himself and, finally, even as a child did not have much association with children should take such a deep and anxious interest in children. In the novel, he is keenly interested and saddened by the situation of Oscar Wilde's young sons and concerned for the well-being of a young girl named Mona who is, or it seems to his mind, being unconsciously, or maybe even actually abused by the guests at a house party in Ireland. He is concerned that the child is not properly chaperoned and that she is made much of at an adults' ball and is vaguely sexualized. So often children in James' books suffer from indifferent care or are used in a most calculated way of exacting revenge. From a callow reading of his work one might think that he is using them only as the ultimate examples to highlight is theme of innocence versus corruption. However, readers of What Maise Knew can be only but painfully aware of James' deep concern and anxiety for children. Interestingly the question of the child Mona, which was highly suggestive of the adults at least unwittingly sexualizing the girl, if not actually abusing her, was never returned to. It lingered in my mind exactly what the author was trying to get at. As the tireless efforts Josephine Butler uncovered, child prostitution and the shunting of these children from one wealthy household to another was hardly a secret and seems to have been a vice endemic of the European aristocracy. I still wonder if this is what Toibin was suggesting. James is certainly unsettled by the girl and her presence at a gathering which is all adults, excepting her. In true Jamesian fashion it is left a mystery.
For the most part I find The Master a masterful portrait of a complex man, a man who had a genius for subtlety and observation. Toibin captures James as well as any biography ever has, and he has done so much in the manner of James, to wit, the Mona episode.
Show More
never seem to capture the subtleties of this most subtle of men and minds. I am in awe of the way Toibin has not only captured the man but also his time. He has a rare sensibility and understanding of the nature of this deeply conflicted author.One of the things that most caught my attention is Toibin's awareness of James' almost peculiar anxiety for the care and tending of children. It has always struck me as odd that a man who was himself childless, did not spend much time in the company of children, and indeed, seemed to never have ever been a child himself and, finally, even as a child did not have much association with children should take such a deep and anxious interest in children. In the novel, he is keenly interested and saddened by the situation of Oscar Wilde's young sons and concerned for the well-being of a young girl named Mona who is, or it seems to his mind, being unconsciously, or maybe even actually abused by the guests at a house party in Ireland. He is concerned that the child is not properly chaperoned and that she is made much of at an adults' ball and is vaguely sexualized. So often children in James' books suffer from indifferent care or are used in a most calculated way of exacting revenge. From a callow reading of his work one might think that he is using them only as the ultimate examples to highlight is theme of innocence versus corruption. However, readers of What Maise Knew can be only but painfully aware of James' deep concern and anxiety for children. Interestingly the question of the child Mona, which was highly suggestive of the adults at least unwittingly sexualizing the girl, if not actually abusing her, was never returned to. It lingered in my mind exactly what the author was trying to get at. As the tireless efforts Josephine Butler uncovered, child prostitution and the shunting of these children from one wealthy household to another was hardly a secret and seems to have been a vice endemic of the European aristocracy. I still wonder if this is what Toibin was suggesting. James is certainly unsettled by the girl and her presence at a gathering which is all adults, excepting her. In true Jamesian fashion it is left a mystery.
For the most part I find The Master a masterful portrait of a complex man, a man who had a genius for subtlety and observation. Toibin captures James as well as any biography ever has, and he has done so much in the manner of James, to wit, the Mona episode.
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LibraryThing member LaurieRKing
If you're going to write a fictionalized biography, why not make the subject Henry James rather than that Frey fellow?
LibraryThing member zyclist
This is a masterly fiction about the life of Henry James, including some of its little known aspects. The inherent tragedy of his life is told through the timeless conundrum of life versus art. Henry James was acknowledged in his lifetime as an exemplar of literary gracefulness, and yet his social
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awkwardness which was less recognised blighted his own and the lives of others. Show Less
LibraryThing member bobbieharv
A fictionalized biography of Henry James, written I think in the HJ style. It's like James' life made into one of his novels. Lovely calm ruminative soothing writing; made me want to reread Portrait of a Lady.
LibraryThing member wisecat
This fictionalized biography of Henry James was disappointing & dull. It dealt too much with really depressing facets of his internal life.
LibraryThing member shihtzu
Beautifully written fictional account of the life of Henry James. One of the best books I've read in the past few years.
LibraryThing member hvhay
I just read all my Henry James books this year so this was a natural follow-up. Many, many scenes from the novels and stories are echoed in this book and it was fun to try to identify them. However, while I found the book well-written as far as style goes, in my opinion it suffers from the fact
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that the lives of real people don’t typically follow a narrative arc that translates well to a novel. But overall, a nice alternative to a traditional biography. Show Less
LibraryThing member wandering_star
This is a beautifully written book - the sentences roll over you as you are reading them. And it's a sensitive examination of the way that James' life was echoed in his work, and the way his desire to observe, and write, led to a certain disengagement from the world - and made him let down the
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people who loved him. However, it seemed a little repetitive - the same events recur, with different protagonists. Perhaps this is meant to be cyclical - but James' approach doesn't really change, despite his guilt or shame about the events that have gone before. I agree with the comments of one of the reviewers below, that it ended up reading like an exercise in style rather than anything with real feeling. Show Less
LibraryThing member Matsar
A wonderful book, especially for people who are as fascinated with Henry James the man as much as they are his stories. A touching novel about this complex, lonely and brilliant man.
LibraryThing member V.V.Harding
Colm Tóibín's Henry James seems a tame chap compared to the author who imagined and wrote A London Life, which it inspired me to read immediately following The Master. It raises the question: should novels be about actual people? since they are bound to disappoint, and seem like a short-cut, a
One potential problem appeared but didn't materialize: Colm Tóibín works around the question of homosexuality and finally lets it remain as inconclusive as James himself did -- a blessing. The possibility that James might be seen as both a homosexual and an Irish novelist was rather tantalizing, especially in the scenes in Ireland, but having a single Irish grandfather apparently wasn't claim enough, and if James considered himself at all Irish, it seems he didn't record the fact, or not tellingly enough to be included here.
So, a lot of reasons not to like this book going in, and now upon reflection it seems very likely Colm Tóibín's view is just wrong on several counts. But it doesn't matter once the issues of identity and engagement take center stage. And while the narrative voice could never be confused with James's own, it is careful and introspective and quite suitable for a book -- ostensibly -- about him.
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way of not having to imagine everything. So while The Master was very much a pleasure to read (hence so many stars), it might have been a better book had it been about an imaginary author, one more exactly shaped to Colm Tóibín's needs.One potential problem appeared but didn't materialize: Colm Tóibín works around the question of homosexuality and finally lets it remain as inconclusive as James himself did -- a blessing. The possibility that James might be seen as both a homosexual and an Irish novelist was rather tantalizing, especially in the scenes in Ireland, but having a single Irish grandfather apparently wasn't claim enough, and if James considered himself at all Irish, it seems he didn't record the fact, or not tellingly enough to be included here.
So, a lot of reasons not to like this book going in, and now upon reflection it seems very likely Colm Tóibín's view is just wrong on several counts. But it doesn't matter once the issues of identity and engagement take center stage. And while the narrative voice could never be confused with James's own, it is careful and introspective and quite suitable for a book -- ostensibly -- about him.
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LibraryThing member AlCracka
I know this looks really weird and everything, but apparently it's pretty great. Fictionalized bio of Henry James. Just, y'know, if I read him maybe I'll check this out too.
LibraryThing member siri51
This was my ‘between bookclub books ‘read, borrowed from the GVRL. I don’t usually like novels about real characters as it is hard to know where fact and fiction meet. Perhaps because I didn’t know anything about the life of the author Henry James, I thoroughly enjoyed this. I have only
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ever read one ghost story of Henry James but the book seemed to capture the tone of the late 1890’s in Europe. On the last page of acknowledgments, Toibin says he ‘peppered the text with phrases and sentences from the writings of Henry James and his family” – he has done a fine job. Show Less
LibraryThing member wiremonkey
(listened to the audio book) Now for something completely different. The Master is Toíbin's hommage to the writer Henry James. He leads us through the latter years of Jame's life from the devastating reception of his play, Guy Domville, in 1895 to....wait. I can't remember where it ends. I am
This is a slow, nuanced and textured read (or listen), that hints at James' homosexuality through subtle comments and meaningful glances but is never explicitly stated. It also relies on flashbacks to talk about his different novels and the periods in James' life that influenced them.
After all the post-apocalyptic craziness I have been into lately or all the heavy on the plot YA novels I read, this was a comforting salve. Beautifully written, meticulous as James' personality, I would recommend this book to anyone who loves to lose themselves in the ornate, subtle and layered world of Henry James.
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pretty sure it did not end with James' death though. I think he left off at James' house in Rye. I am pretty sure it ends before WWI- as it wasn't mentioned and James' died in 1916.This is a slow, nuanced and textured read (or listen), that hints at James' homosexuality through subtle comments and meaningful glances but is never explicitly stated. It also relies on flashbacks to talk about his different novels and the periods in James' life that influenced them.
After all the post-apocalyptic craziness I have been into lately or all the heavy on the plot YA novels I read, this was a comforting salve. Beautifully written, meticulous as James' personality, I would recommend this book to anyone who loves to lose themselves in the ornate, subtle and layered world of Henry James.
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Subjects
Awards
Booker Prize (Longlist — 2004)
Dublin Literary Award (Winner — 2006)
Lambda Literary Award (Winner — 2004)
Audie Award (Finalist — 2005)
LA Times Book Prize (Finalist — Fiction — 2004)
Publishing Triangle Awards (Finalist — 2005)
Stonewall Book Award (Winner — 2005)
The Economist Best Books (2004.6)
Meilleur livre étranger (2005)
Booklist Editor's Choice: Adult Books (Fiction — 2004)
Christian Science Monitor Best Book (Fiction — 2004)