Mrs. Palfrey first came to the Claremont Hotel on a Sunday afternoon in January. Rain had closed in over London, and her taxi sloshed along the almost deserted Cromwell Road, past one cavernous porch after another, the driver going slowly and poking his head out into the wet, for the hotel was not known to him. This discovery, that he did not know, had a little disconcerted Mrs. Palfrey, for she did not know it either, and began to wonder what she was coming to. She tried to banish terror from her heart. She was alarmed at the threat of her own depression....
This is from Elizabeth Taylor's "Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont," her most famous novel, cited as one of the greatest novels of all time, in one of those silly rankings. She isn't THAT Elizabeth Taylor. She is a different person, and people say she would have won more fame if she hadn't shared her name with Martha/Brick's Wife/Cleopatra.
A story is a journey--any journey--even if it's simply an old woman checking into a kind of retirement home. There is intense drama even in everyday scenes, and Taylor hints at this with her language: "cavernous porches," "rain sloshed," "rain closed in," "banish terror from her heart," "alarmed at the threat of her own depression." It's pretty easy to recognize your own experiences in the scenes Taylor describes (if you ask me).
A cliche about writing is that it grows out of the quarrel you have with yourself, and like some other great writers, Elizabeth Taylor seems to have had an especially painful life. From what I remember, she was trapped in a loveless marriage, entangled with a third party--and if you add some talent to that mix, you get a great novelist! Like Stewart O'Nan, Taylor can find piercing beauty in ho hum moments--but, unlike O'Nan, Taylor weds her observations to absorbing plots. She can tell a story.
A standard Taylor scene has a cool, amused narrator, dispassionately explaining how moderately well-intentioned people can inflict pain on each other. For example, in her novel "The Soul of Kindness," Taylor observes a busybody nurse with a new mother. The nurse is a bully and borderline-incompetent, but she imagines that she is a saint. With great hypocrisy, she tells the new mom's husband not to sit on the side of the bed (and there's no reason for this rule). She uses notably patronizing language: "We can't have Daddy on the bed, now, can we?" The gap between nurse and Dad--between nurse and nurse's self-image--is weirdly riveting. It's hard to imagine a man writing this chapter.
I recommend "Mrs. Palfrey," but I also recommend "Blaming," "In a Summer Season," "The Soul of Kindness," "The Wedding Group," "A Game of Hide and Seek," "A View of the Harbour." Brilliant, observant writing--story after story after story. Taylor's admirers include(d) Kingsley Amis, Hilary Mantel, Caleb Crain, Paul Bailey, and Anne Tyler. Add me. Taylor was simply the best.
This is from Elizabeth Taylor's "Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont," her most famous novel, cited as one of the greatest novels of all time, in one of those silly rankings. She isn't THAT Elizabeth Taylor. She is a different person, and people say she would have won more fame if she hadn't shared her name with Martha/Brick's Wife/Cleopatra.
A story is a journey--any journey--even if it's simply an old woman checking into a kind of retirement home. There is intense drama even in everyday scenes, and Taylor hints at this with her language: "cavernous porches," "rain sloshed," "rain closed in," "banish terror from her heart," "alarmed at the threat of her own depression." It's pretty easy to recognize your own experiences in the scenes Taylor describes (if you ask me).
A cliche about writing is that it grows out of the quarrel you have with yourself, and like some other great writers, Elizabeth Taylor seems to have had an especially painful life. From what I remember, she was trapped in a loveless marriage, entangled with a third party--and if you add some talent to that mix, you get a great novelist! Like Stewart O'Nan, Taylor can find piercing beauty in ho hum moments--but, unlike O'Nan, Taylor weds her observations to absorbing plots. She can tell a story.
A standard Taylor scene has a cool, amused narrator, dispassionately explaining how moderately well-intentioned people can inflict pain on each other. For example, in her novel "The Soul of Kindness," Taylor observes a busybody nurse with a new mother. The nurse is a bully and borderline-incompetent, but she imagines that she is a saint. With great hypocrisy, she tells the new mom's husband not to sit on the side of the bed (and there's no reason for this rule). She uses notably patronizing language: "We can't have Daddy on the bed, now, can we?" The gap between nurse and Dad--between nurse and nurse's self-image--is weirdly riveting. It's hard to imagine a man writing this chapter.
I recommend "Mrs. Palfrey," but I also recommend "Blaming," "In a Summer Season," "The Soul of Kindness," "The Wedding Group," "A Game of Hide and Seek," "A View of the Harbour." Brilliant, observant writing--story after story after story. Taylor's admirers include(d) Kingsley Amis, Hilary Mantel, Caleb Crain, Paul Bailey, and Anne Tyler. Add me. Taylor was simply the best.
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