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Henry Dunbar, the once all-powerful head of a global media corporation, is not having a good day. In his dotage he hands over care of the corporation to his two eldest daughters, Abby and Megan, but as relations sour he starts to doubt the wisdom of past decisions. Now imprisoned in Meadowmeade, an upscale sanatorium in rural England, with only a demented alcoholic comedian as company, Dunbar starts planning his escape. As he flees into the hills, his family is hot on his heels. But who will find him first, his beloved youngest daughter, Florence, or the tigresses Abby and Megan, so keen to divest him of his estate? Edward St Aubyn is renowned for his masterwork, the five Melrose novels, which dissect with savage and beautiful precision the agonies of family life. His take on King Lear, Shakespeare's most devastating family story, is an excoriating novel for and of our times an examination of power, money and the value of forgiveness.… (more)
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St. Aubyn has found a worthy subject for his excoriating wit. Rarely have characters as thoroughly evil as Abby and Meg crossed his path. And he positively revels in his depiction of their depravity. Always more challenging is the youngest daughter. Where exactly does her duty of care lie? And how could the great manipulator, Dunbar, have been so thoroughly outfoxed?
As ever with Lear, the test for a director, actor, or author, is to decide whether Lear (i.e. Dunbar) is mad at the outset. If he is mad, then guilt does not accrue from his actions. If he is not mad, then how can such vile acts ever be redeemed or at least how can he tempt our sympathy in his onward decline? St. Aubyn opts for a chemically induced madness inflicted on Dunbar by his daughters’ pet physician, Dr. Bob. But that’s a bit of a cheat. And when the drug that provokes Dunbar’s paranoia wears off, it doesn’t seem as though his paranoia is lessened. So it remains unclear whether the drug was efficacious at all. However barring this niggle, the novel as a whole remains a thoroughgoing romp.
Recommended.
Edward St Aubyn decides to tell just part of the story so Dunbar is more "based on fragments from King Lear" than it is a straight retelling. And somewhere in those cut fragments is where the story loses its power a bit.
The novel opens much later than the play does - Dunbar had already made his decision to split his kingdom between only his two oldest daughters and cut the youngest a year earlier and when we meet him, he had been committed to an asylum in Manchester from his daughters for at least a few months - away from North America where everyone who cares about his is.
Dunbar's kingdom is not literal of course - he is an entertainment media mogul who had built one of the biggest media empire in the world. That empire is what got split. Just like King Lear, Dunbar tried to give the power away but keep the title... and things backfired as badly as it did in the original. This family drama is all here. What is missing is the second family as a counterpoint and for comparison - while the characters are there, the connection between them is not and there is no betrayal there... and the novel suffers from that.
When the novel opens Dunbar had started to realize that something is indeed rotten and before long he escapes the loony bin and goes wandering around the mountains. There is noone to assist him, he is all on his own (complete with the rage against the storm and the barn he finds) but... the power of that part of the story is in his companions and the fact that he has no idea who they are...
And then there are the sisters... the two older ones are evil personified, just as in the play, except that in a novel they come out almost cartoon evil - and so does Dr. Bob. Add that the sexual tension that carries through the play had been upgraded to almost pornographic here and things are just bizarre in places.
As it is billed as a retelling, everyone knows where this is going - Dunbar will be saved by his youngest daughter, the evil plans will be stopped. St Aubyn makes the same choice as with the start - he does not finish the play - almost noone dies in this version - literally or not. A case can be made that the troubles the sisters find themselves in is the same as dying but... it does not have the same power.
Even removing the King Lear connection does not save this novel - it is so tightly connected into everything that pulling it apart does not leave a secondary story under it.
On the other hand some of the writing was impressive - even if it failed as King Lear, even if half of the characters were comically good or evil, something in the language of St Aubyn works on a level that I did not expect. I am glad I read it -- at least I discovered a new author I want to explore. But this could have been done a lot better... :(
So, how do you update this time-honored story for a modern audience? In Dunbar, Edward St. Aubyn gives us his answer. Henry Dunbar has decided to step away from the multi-national communications company he has ruthlessly built. He turns over his stake in the operation to the daughters who have remained loyal to the firm while freezing out the one who wanted to live her own life. After escaping from the mental facility where his duplicitous offspring have placed him with the help of an unethical doctor, Dunbar seeks to reunite with the one child he has wronged while trying to thwart the plot of the other two schemers. Of course, none of this ends well, but then we already knew that would happen.
This is the sixth offering in Hogarth Shakespeare’s ambitious project to reimagine some of the Immortal Bard’s more famous plays as novels. For me, this particular rendition was entertaining, if only moderately successful. The new plot follows the original story very closely in the broad details, rather than trying to reinvent the tale in a creative way, as Margaret Atwood’s Hag-Seed did for The Tempest. Still, St. Aubyn has produced more compelling fiction than other authors in the series who simply tried to transport the original story to the present day (e.g., Tracy Chevalier’s New Boy, Anne Tyler’s Vinegar Girl). In particular, I thought the author’s use of a hostile corporate takeover to motivate the novel’s climax was quite clever and also managed to correctly convey the financial details of how those transactions actually work. Overall, while Dunbar does not leave a significant impression, it was a well-crafted book that was a pleasure to read.
My reading hardly took me to the tenth page when a number of references to the “Crazy Old King” came to my attention. As I read, I continued to mark these little nuggets. Only a few items were manipulated beyond the casual reader’s notice. Fortunately for one character, he did not suffer the fate of Gloucester at the hands of the evil Duke of Cornwall. No spoiler alerts here -- all the fun is in matching the characters in the two stories.
Here are some of those quotes. Who do you think they represent? “‘You can’t cling to the trappings of power, without the power itself. It’s just,’” he paused, trying to avoid the word, but eventually letting it fall on him from the plaster above, “‘decadent.’” (3). Try this easy one, “Oh, God, let me not go mad” (5). Or, “‘he turned his daughters into his mother!’”
Her is an interesting passage. St. Aubyn writes, “‘Grilled fish,’ said Garry, chuckling. ‘That always gets me’. // ‘He wouldn’t have been allowed one of your delicious sauces,’ said Peter, ‘because he was on a diet. That was a quotation from something he said to a waiter in Los Angeles, when he was having lunch with Gore Vidal.’ // ‘So, it’s a bit of history, then,’ said Garry. // ‘I’ll let you in on a little secret, Garry: everything is history. By the time you notice it, it’s already happened. That famous imposter, “the present,” disappears in the cognitive gap. Mind the gap!’ cried Peter, like a stationmaster warning passengers as train doors open” (33).
Dunbar is in a remote asylum with some henchmen trying to find and kill him. He learns of the plot, and manages to escape. St. Auybn writes, “He would get everything back and, with his power restored, he would punish his wicked daughters and leave the empire to Florence. He had always known that he was supposed to love his children equally, but couldn’t disguise that it was Florence who charmed and delighted him. She had inherited her mother’s beauty as well as her disarming sympathy. Just by listening to him, she could make the knots he tied himself in spontaneously loosen and unravel. She didn’t exercise this effect self-consciously; it was a natural phenomenon, like ice melting at a certain temperature. Apart from her virtues, he loved Florence simply because she was Catherine’s daughter, and Catherine was the great love of his life, a love, or at least an image of love, immortalized by death, sealed off from decay and habituation, from the mundane forces that turn admiration into tolerance, and tolerance into irritation. He could see now, in this moment of lucidity, that after Catherine was killed in the car accident, he had clung to Florence in a way that may have contributed to her desire for independence and her decision to have nothing more to do with his business” (37). Something of a major turning of the tables there, but this thought process of Dunbar’s nicely fits in with Lear’s madness, and his moments of lucidity.
All in all, Edward St. Aubyn’s Dunbar -- a version of King Lear set in the 21st century – is a worthy descendant of the Bard of Avon. If you have even a high school memory of Lear, Regan, Goneril, Cordelia, Edgar, Edmund, Gloucester, Kent, Albany and Cornwall, this can be a most enjoyable read in a mere 244 pages. 5 stars!
--Chiron, 11/1/17
“Dunbar” is part of the Shakespeare Hogarth project in which famous authors have transferred the bard’s stories into our modern time in honour of the 400th anniversary of his death. One of the four major tragedies provides the basis for this modern madness: King Lear.
Edward St Aubyn clearly is one of the most gifted authors of our time. He masterly managed to create a gripping story in which the core conflict of Shakespeare’s play can clearly be seen, but which speaks for itself and is a great pleasure to read from the very first to the last page. First of all, the setting. Transferring the king’s household to a media mogul’s family is absolutely adequate for today, it’s not only about power, but much more about the stock market and money. That’s what drives many people nowadays and for which they are willing to sell their own grandmother – or their father as it is here.
Strongest are the characters in the novel. The stubborn old head of the family who cannot be broken by medication and a remote clinic, who develops superhuman survival forces if needed but who finally finds the wisdom of the elderly and can see when in his life he was wrong – that’s one side of the story. Yet, I had a lot more fun with the beastly sisters Abby and Megan, they both are that sly and cunning – it was just a great fun to read (“Oh, God, it was so unfair! That selfish old man was spoiling everything”, Megan complains about her father when she learns that he has fled and her carefully designed plot is about to crumble down). Admittedly, I did not feel too much compassion for their Victim Dr. Bob, who, he himself, also was not the philantropic doctor whom you wish for but much more a turncoat seeking for his own benefit.
A lively family vendetta which completely gets out of control perfectly framed by Edward St Aubyn’s gifted writing. Great dialogues alternate with extraordinary inner monologues – for me so far one of the best works of the Hogarth Shakespeare series.
The plot provides suspense as the two eldest daughters, Abbey and Megan, plan to complete the divestiture of his estate and ensure that he never returns. Dunbar has only an alcoholic comedian by his side as he drifts through the wilds of the rural British countryside. Will he survive the ordeal? Will he escape the clutches of his elder daughters? And will the youngest daughter, Florence, who has never given up on him, be able to assist in his return and reconnect with her father?
The book's best passages come when St. Aubyn is alone with his central character. When he engages the brutal reality of nature with only his own purposefulness to guide him the story takes on a mesmerizing character. "He was locking into his walking stride, preserving his energy, refusing to disperse himself in speculative chatter, absorbed by a single objective: to get to London and somehow take back control of the Trust." He sounds like the man who had built an empire, not given it away. He engages with nature; "The leafless trees, with their black branches stretching out hysterically in every direction, looked to him like illustrations of a central nervous system racked by disease: studies of human suffering anatomised against the winter sky." I found my reading rapt with the tension of Dunbar's mind and his engagement with the world. The secondary characters were not as well drawn, although even when bordering on caricature they provided enough believable evil to suggest that they might prevail.
"Dunbar" is part of a series of contemporary novels based on Shakespeare's plays and published by Hogarth Press. His five Melrose novels, which dissect with savage and beautiful precision the agonies of family life, made him a perfect candidate to update King Lear, Shakespeare’s most devastating family story. In doing so he has translated much of the power of Shakespeare's great play into an agonizingly tense and metaphorically astute novel for and of our times – an examination of power, money and the value of forgiveness. Edward St. Aubyn has been able to create a work that his worthy of his reputation and also respectful to the source of this Shakespearean tragedy for our times.
The story has the tragic ending one would expect for a King Lear retelling. It's pretty obvious that St. Aubyn has used Rupert Murdoch as his model for Dunbar. In fact, it's so obvious that it overshadows the parallel to King Lear.
This review is based on an electronic advance readers copy provided by the publisher through NetGalley.
This story is billed as an adaptation of King Lear, and it certainly is, but you do not have to be familiar with Shakespeare's play to understand and enjoy the book. There's a bit of an adventure here in the plot, but there are also elements of suspense and family drama. It's an easy-to-follow read, and an engaging story, great for a rainy afternoon or a day of traveling.
[Disclaimer: This review is based on a copy of the book received from the publisher via BloggingForBooks.]
Much of the pleasure afforded by this novel is similar to that which comes from watching a “modern-dress” Shakespeare production. St Aubyn follows the plot of King Lear quite closely, and it’s fun to seek the often-ingenious parallels between this novel and the play which inspired it. Even considered without reference to Lear, the novel has its merits – it is fast-paced, borrowing as it does from the “corporate” or “legal thriller” genre and, particularly until Walker remains on the scene, it also has a considerable dose of (dark) humour.
Overall, however, “Dunbar” did not work for me. For a start, the novel’s characters and certain plot details were too over the top. Just to give an example, St Aubyn is not happy with casting Abby and Megan ‘merely’ as scheming and shady entrepreneurs. He also portrays them as sadistic nymphomaniacs, guarded by well-honed bodyguards ready to appease them at their beck and call. These elements turn the characters into grotesque caricatures, draining them of their humanity. As a result, instead of underlining Shakespeare’s continued relevance, the novel presents us with figures with whom it is hard to identify. What bothered me most of all, however, is that the narrative and dialogue lack that distinctiveness and originality which I would expect from a supposedly “literary” novel. There is the occasional arresting metaphor but, otherwise, the style struck me as workaday – surely, an author once nominated for the Booker can do better than this?
The book was sent to me by the publisher via NetGalley. Thank you.
DUNBAR is a Hogarth Shakespeare Project entry.
Who would King Lear be if he lived in the 21st century? St. Aubyn has come up with the definitive answer. Lear would be media mogul Henry Dunbar, a man who owns
Henry Dunbar’s story begins in an exclusive “rest” home where he has been placed by his two eldest daughters after exhibiting dangerously erratic behavior. Dunbar tries to make sense of his fall from power by repeating his story to his fool, a broken-down alcoholic comedian named Peter Walker who has the talents of Robin Williams to switch personalities. It was a mistake, Dunbar admits, not to follow his lawyer’s advice. Charles Wilson adamantly opposed Dunbar’s plan to turn over titular control of his empire to his daughters. But, Dunbar countered, why should his estate be devastated with death duties when he could easily prevent this. His daughters technically would hold the majority of shares but they would follow his directions. Dunbar would still be in charge and have all the trappings of a CEO, just without the title. What could possibly go wrong?
Megan and Abigail are, if anything, more ruthless than their Shakespearean counterparts Regan and Goneril. Lear’s daughters may have driven that father to madness by their actions; Dunbar’s daughters actually caused his psychotic incidents with the aid of mind-altering drugs handily injected by their father’s doctor and their lover, Dr Bob. It was easy for Dr. Bob to have him committed when Dunbar was found in a hollow tree on Hampstead Heath talking to himself after causing a disturbance on Hampstead High Street. And, of course, the exclusive care facility followed the doctor’s directives to keep him on his meds.
All this is explained in flashbacks and it is Peter the comedian/fool who suggests they escape to the outside world. Crafty Dunbar did manage to sequester one credit card and they flee to the wintry wilds of the Lake District. When Peter cannot be lured from a pub, Dunbar must survive on his own. Alone and afraid that he really is losing his mind, he may not howl but he does mutter, “Please don’t let me go mad….Please, please don’t let me go mad.”
The novel easily parallels the play with perfect 21st century sensibility and, importantly, does not force the comparison. The novel stands on its own for the reader who has never heard of King Lear. The characters are true to their counterparts. Megan does not put anyone’s eyes out but she does commit a barbarous act against an innocent. Regan does something that explains a mystery that Shakespeare left hanging. Cordelia rejects her share of the inheritance because she would rather live with her American husband in Montana, instead either New York or London. The lawyer Charles Wilson is a combination of Lear’s faithful Kent and Gloucester. Doctor Bob is Edmund but no relation to Gloucester. And the ending is an epic battle, not between countries, but between two global corporations who control what the world sees and hears. Epic, indeed!
St. Aubyn has done a magnificent job in adapting a magnificent play.
I haven't read King Lear yet, but I have been meaning to.
Henry Dunbar (our King Lear) the media mogul is our lead, who has three daughters (two of whom seem out of their right mind 99% of the time, I feel like they should have been in the psych ward, personally), is currently in what appears to be a psych ward with a not-so-funny comedian. He plans to escape and prevent the two psychotic daughters from running his company/getting his trust money.
The two psychotic daughters appear to be too evil - like it's obvious, but their reasoning for getting the trust money doesn't seem like a good enough reason to be crazy. I would have liked to see the craziness pulled back a bit to make it more realistic, or interesting. I just found them to pull away from the great story of Henry and Florence. While Florence does seem to be a little too goody-goody, their scenes are really beautiful and seem to be the best part of this entire story.
St. Aubyn uses a lot of Shakespeare quotes - which I loved! They were used in the correct context too. My issue within this, is sometimes it seemed like he was trying to write in iambic pentameter or using language from that era when it just didn't fit in. The first chapter when Henry and his comedian friend are telling stories seem to be edging towards that era, but it just wasn't funny. If anything, it made me more confused and bored. I had to keep re-reading what they were saying just to try to understand what they are doing (and I was an ace at Shakespeare in English, so how could I not understand normal English?...Geez).
My overall review - just read the original. There are some FANTASTIC adaptions out there that can wow your socks off and rival the original, and this one isn't it. It's a great story, and if it entered a contest it could potentially win, but it's not the best I've seen. I gave up a few chapters in just to force myself through the book.
Edward is a great author, and while this might not be his strongest novel I'm sure he is great in other areas. I definitely want to give him another shot in the future with a book that's an original story because I'm sure he could shine there.
Two out of five stars.
I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.
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