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"How wonderful to be an artist and a woman in the twentieth century", Fleur Talbot rejoices. Happily loitering about London, c. 1949, with intent to gather material for her writing, Fleur finds a job "on the grubby edge of the literary world", as secretary to the peculiar Autobiographical Association. Mad egomaniacs, hilariously writing their memoirs in advance -- or poor fools ensnared by a blackmailer? Rich material, in any case. But when its pompous director, Sir Quentin Oliver, steals the manuscript of Fleur's new novel, fiction begins to appropriate life. The association's members begin to act out scenes exactly as Fleur herself has already written them in her missing manuscript. And as they meet darkly funny, pre-visioned fates, where does art start or reality end? "A delicious conundrum", The New Statesman called Loitering with Intent.Copyright © Libri GmbH. All rights reserved.… (more)
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Muriel Spark’s novels won’t appeal to everyone. She was famously detached from (and sometimes brutal to) other people in her personal life, and she has the same attitude towards the characters in her novels, even this one, where the book is written in the first person. But I think she also has to be—Spark’s focus is on human existence and interaction as a whole, so she doesn’t get too deeply invested in her characters. As a result, there are some really great quotes in the book, such as “Contradictions in human character are one of its most consistent notes.” It’s that detachment from her characters that allows Spark to paint a full picture of them. Spark’s novels are characterized by observations of deceit and the use and abuse of power. As with novels like Aiding and Abetting, Spark proves that these kinds of things sometimes happen in some of the most bizarre circumstances.
Loitering With Intent is somewhat autobiographical; set around the time that Spark began to write, it captures very well a first-time author’s attempts to get published—a secondary theme to the novel in how it explores the edge of London literary life in the late 1940s/early1950s.
Spark's novel brims with eccentric characters, including Sir Oliver, Fleur's employees, and her various lovers--one of whom is the husband of a co-worker who has not only Fleur on the side but also a gay poet named Gray Mauser. The best of the bunch is Sir Oliver's elderly mother, Edwina, who uses her supposed senility and incontinence as weapons and who helps Fleur to get the best of everyone.
I read and loved Spark's A Far Cry from Kensington earlier this month and was eager to read more by her. Through Fleur, she's a keen observer of human nature and the foibles of polite society. Loitering with Intent is delightful, witty, urbane, and even at times downright hilarious. Spark is now right up there with Barbara Pym in my estimation--and may even surpass her.
If that sounds a bit strange, hang on, because the story gets more bizarre with every page. The society’s clients are a band of misfits and unknowns, and it’s hard to imagine anyone would be interested in their life stories. But Sir Quentin Oliver, head of the society, coddles them and coaches them through each chapter, focusing on their childhood, their early romantic and sexual experiences, and so forth. As secretary, Fleur has access to their manuscripts and uses her creative talents to spice things up a bit. In the office, which is actually Sir Quentin’s flat, she engages in a power struggle with Quentin's housekeeper Mrs Beryl Tims, and befriends his elderly and incontinent mother, Edwina.
But all of this is secondary to Fleur; her life is focused on finishing her novel and getting it published. She’s also distracted by an affair that’s gone sour, and an unlikely friendship with the man’s wife, Dottie. For some reason she convinces Dottie to join the Autobiographical Society and write her memoirs, and gradually discovers Dottie may not be the friend she thought (really? I could have told her that). She also begins to see another side of Sir Quentin that is obvious to the reader, but would stun the society members who idolize him. When Fleur’s manuscript goes missing, and scenes from her novel are played out in real life, the story gets very strange indeed.
Spark’s characters are very funny. Edwina pees on the floor nearly every time she stands up; Beryl Tims is very proper and judgmental. There’s an unfrocked priest with a story that’s far less controversial than he thinks, a disabled mystic, and many more. The madcap storyline moves along at a brisk pace. This is a light read, darkly funny, and while I enjoyed it on one level, it was also all a bit over the top. I found it a nice diversion from some of the heavier stuff I’m reading. For my tastes, Spark is best taken in small doses like this one.
I just love Muriel Spark. I love her voice, and I especially love her voice as it sounds through Nadia May, my favorite audiobook narrator (the same narrator is now happily conveying me to and from school with Emma). She creates the most interesting characters, from Fleur herself to Lady Edwina, the outrageous, incontinent, cackling old crone who is Sir Quentin's mother, and whom no one but Fleur can tolerate. Beryl and Dotty, Sir Quentin's housekeeper and Fleur's "frenemy,' respectively, are two more wickedly drawn characters. One of them wears English Rose eau de toilette and the other English Rose lipstick, collectively creating the perfect simpering, sniffy, and annoying English Rose archetype Fleur loves to hate. This book is totally unlike anything I've read, and I loved it.
The
Loitering with intent is quite a popular title for humorous memoirs, and it's obviously no accident that Spark picked it as the title for a novel that explores the complicated relationship between experience, fiction and memory. This is one of the most believable accounts of the process of writing a novel that I've seen in fiction, but it's also a very funny comic story in itself, with a glorious eccentric old lady, a complex missing-manuscript plot, and a lot of clever jokes at the expense of literary pretensions, incompetent amateur writers, shady publishers, sex, and plenty of little digs at the author's younger self.
Underneath the wicked humor, this is a novel about writing and writers, particularly autobiography and autobiographical fiction, biographers and novelists. How much falsehood is present in an autobiography, and how much truth is there in autobiographical fiction? Which one is preferable? Spark's novel is a quick and entertaining read that raises philosophical questions for readers to ponder long after turning its last page.
I was sure that nothing had happened in their lives and equally sure that Sir Quentin was pumping something artificial into their real lives instead of on paper. Presented fictionally, one could have done something authentic with that poor material. But the inducing them to express themselves in life resulted in falsity.
What is truth? I could have realized these people with my fun and games with their life-stories, while Sir Quentin was destroying them with his needling after frankness...
Anyway, "Loitering with Intent" concerns the intrigue surrounding the composition of a first novel and its author's involvement with a cult-like group of putative autobiographers. It is at once a lovely description of what I'm more-or-less legally obligated to refer to as the "grey period" that occupied the years between between the end of the Second World War and the swinging London of the nineteen sixties, a portrait of a determined young author who may or may not bear a resemblance to Muriel Spark herself, an examination of the folly of human egotism, an amusing parade of enjoyably bizarre, decaying remnants of Britain's former glory -- brief interviews with horrible Britons, if you will -- and, perhaps most important, an author's love-letter to the process of writing. In my review of Ian McEwan's "Amsterdam," which I didn't much enjoy, I noted that one of the book's strong points was that it gave a lovely account of the creative process, to wit, the composing of a symphony. "Loitering with Intent" contains another one. The positively nurturing tone that the book takes when the Miss Talbot describes the development of her novel -- titled Warrender Chase -- makes the romantic entanglements that come and go throughout the book seem unimportant by comparison. I don't suppose it would have been an easy choice for a young woman to give up on family life in order to write in the late 1940s, but the fictional author's obvious passion for the craft of writing makes it seem almost an obvious choice. Her heart belongs to the written word, and it wouldn't be overstating the case to say that this novel's a sort of love letter to writing itself. "Loitering with Intent" is, along with many other things, a sincere testament to the enormous personal fortitude and committed friendships it takes to get any book published.
Not that it wastes its time with reflexive, post-modernist gamesmanship, even though, at various points, the line between "fiction" and "reality" is effectively erased as elements of "Warrender Chase" seem to bleed into the rest of the novel. Somewhere around its middle point, "Loitering with Intent" seamlessly transforms into a not-bad semi-thriller, as manuscripts are repeatedly lost, stolen, destroyed and recovered and the publishing industry's dirtiest tricks are brought to light. Give Spark credit for finding an amusing way of dealing with themes that lesser writers might have made dry and tedious. What's amazing about "Loitering with Intent," and about Spark in general, is how well all of these elements seem to cohere, and how easily the resulting product reads. Recommended to aspiring writers, as well as to everyone else, really.
Muriel Spark is clearly having the time of her life with Fleur’s autobiographical account of her younger life. But she’s also having great fun with the play between fiction and autobiography as well as the preposterous lives we imagine for our favourite novelists. Nothing is really as it seems here. How could it be? It would be absurd. On the other hand, life just might be absurd. And for a novelist as playful and subtle as Spark, it almost certainly must be.
Good fun and warmly recommended.