So. Just what is the point of DH Lawrence?
His writing I admire, but as a character in Dunmore’s barely biographical novel he amounts to a weak sub-plot and a denouement in which credibility is twisted into travesty in order to capitalise on Lawrencian history.
Zennor in Darkness is set in coastal Cornwall during the First World War, circa 1917. The protagonist is Clare, half-Cornish, half-gentry. Young men are being conscripted, and killed, and feelings run high. For Lawrence, a stranger with a German wife, times are bad for any number of reasons.
Dunmore is ambitious in her themes. War brings out bad things in essentially good people. War destroys its own agents. Conflict of innocence and experience, contrasted through sex and war. ‘Otherness’ is found in many characters.
These themes are awkwardly realised, where realised at all. The main difficulty with this novel lies in Dunmore’s roving eye, a point of view which skitters erratically from character to character. Not even Lawrence is exempt from this authorial invasion and, horribly, his language inhabits roughly the same register as every other character, give or take an occasional token word which may point at station or ambition. (Clare is heard on one occasion to use the word ‘subcutaneous,’ presumably so that we may infer her superior upbringing and education.) Differentiation between individual perception is not marked to any great degree, and characterisation suffers as a result. My personal feeling is that if a voice is to be given to Lawrence then it should be an extraordinary voice. In default of this the Lawrence presence can only disappoint. A fictional writer would have had more credibility.
Dunmore’s indiscriminate use of direct free discourse is technically clunky; particularly when she occupies a multiple consciousness, jars from one character to the next or, worse, occupies a mind within a mind. Confused? I was. And not in a good way.
Amongst Clare’s extended family we are less privileged with easy access to internal monologue. Consequently these relationships are more real, more alive, because the author permits us to fill in the blanks through our own empathic extrapolations. The minor characters take on a life of their own where the main cast do not.
In attempting to portray shell-shock Dunmore sets herself a difficult challenge, and the character of John William is insufficiently developed to make his fate seem more than a plot device. Append a pregnancy resulting from loss of virginity (yes, just the one time) and my patience with the story is wearing thin, but things are about to get worse. The Lawrences were ignominiously banished from Cornwall in 1917 and it is to facilitate this historical event that Clare’s father is required to ignore the evidence of his own eyes and draw erroneous conclusions from the flimsiest of circumstances.
Did I mention that the whole thing is in the present tense? Can I suggest a rationale for this unusual choice? I cannot.
The area in which Dunmore succeeds is in her feel for Cornwall. Geography and natural history are offered in descriptive bursts; avoiding cliché, painting a competent picture of the terrain. In terms of plot, technique and characterisation I am less impressed.
Maybe I shouldn’t have read your review as I haven’t finished it yet and, as you know, it’s part of my readalong.
I like it but maybe for all the wrong reasons. Not because of the bits about war nor those about Lawrence. I need to finish first for a final opinion. I didn’t find it confusing but I realize I may have done some overreading.
The book I read may have been better than then one she wrote, if you know waht I mean.
Hi Caroline. I don’t think there are any spoilers there, and I don’t think I am likely to sway your opinion, so reading my review hopefully won’t interfere with your enjoyment of the book.
The confusion for me lay in the swiftly changing point of view. Several times I lost track of whose thoughts I was hearing, and had to backtrack to work it out. Which is okay in a slow-paced novel like Proust, but not so good here, where it destroyed the rhythm. But if you can follow the switching without effort then I see that this wouldn’t be a problem.
If the book you read is better than the one she wrote, then the converse is also possible, and the book I read is worse than the one she wrote. Discussing the book with twenty or so literary types today I confess that I found myself in a very small minority.
I look forward to reading your review when you complete your readalong.
I wasn’t afraid of spoilers so much as having your review in mind when writing mine (as if I would answer yours, if you know what I mean). I will, if you like, add a link it at the bottom of my post with where I usuall add others’ reviews.
I am always grateful for a link. Thank you. The trackback will remind me to check out your review, and I will of course return the compliment with a reciprocal link.
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