When I reviewed Jenny Offill’s brilliant novel Dept. of Speculation earlier in the year, I asked for recommendations for other books told in fragments or vignettes. The comment section has lots of brilliant suggestions, but I don’t think anybody mentioned Paul Bailey’s Trespasses (1970). The fragmentary style may be in vogue now, but Bailey shows that some authors were doing it more than half a century ago.
Trespasses is mostly (by not entirely) told in short, sharp vignettes. They are often headed HER or HIM or THEM or BOY or BEFORE or AFTER – being, in turn, about Ralph, Ellie, them as a couple, Ralph as a child, and then before and after the big event. We learn what that is almost immediately: Ellie died by suicide. With chronology thrown out the window, the reader is flung instantly into a maelstrom of perspectives, events, and memories. Here’s a taste – this is the first page or so:
EARLY
It is May and the sun is shining. It is warm.
Early this morning, walking in the grounds, I stopped before an apple tree. I looked up at its branches, which seemed to droop under the weight of so much white and pink.
My head was empty; I could enjoy the blossom.
HER
She has been dead some weeks. Mrs Dinsdale complained – the state of her bathroom due to all that blood. People who disposed of themselves, she told me, were as inconsiderate as they were wicked. If wicked was putting it too strong, perhaps unnatural was nearer the mark. My wife had gone against nature.
PEACE
Endless green and blue: below and above. And one apple tree – white and pink, because it is always spring – darkening the earth, and fiercely light against the sky.
Some birds, occasionally singing, and a sun just strong enough to look into.
THEN
It was not a scream in the strict sense of the word. It was more like a howl.
We can’t rest in reflections on Ellie’s act, because of the constant jumps in time. Indeed, a funeral is mentioned in the opening pages – but we quickly realise it is Ralph’s father’s funeral, many years earlier. We are wrong-footed so often that you quickly give up trying to work out where you are, and instead take it all in like an abstract painting. What it conveys brilliantly is Ralph’s state of mind, after his wife’s suicide – unable to process anything properly, and disoriented to the point of mental collapse.
But considering how fragmentary, achronological and formally experimental Trespasses is, I was very impressed by how clearly the secondary characters come to life. Through a jigsaw of fleeting encounters, we get to know comic creations like landlady Mrs Dinsdale and her vicious relationship with her daughter, who would now probably be described as ‘sex positive’. Ellie and Ralph’s respective and contrasting upbringings speak a lot to their meeting across class barriers, and their mothers are fun and oddly poignant to spend time with.
I couldn’t decide if their gay friend Bernard was surprisingly progressive for a 1970 novel or not – he is a camp caricature of arch sayings, but nobody seems bothered about his sexuality. He speaks of his own actions with a mixture of shame and shamelessness, and he is one of two background characters given long, non-fragmented sections to narrative about themselves in the second half of the novel. Bailey keeps us on our toes, with this traditional approach to novel writing feeling fresh and even jarring, coming in the midst of the experimental.
The one thing we never get a grasp of (and I think this is a good narrative choice) is why Ellie made the decision to kill herself. When the novel came out, suicide had only been decriminalised in the England for nine years, and I’m sure it wasn’t considered with as much understanding as it is now. It is a bold topic for a novel, and Bailey writes it brilliantly. The experimentalism is never allowed to overshadow character, and Trespasses is first and foremost a book about character – often very amusingly, but there is something deeply moving about Ralph’s raking back and forth through his memories, for clues about what would happen.
I’ve read two Paul Bailey novels – his debut, At the Jerusalem, and now his second. I’ve been unintentionally reading them in order. I don’t see him much discussed now, though he is in fact still alive, but I’d love to hear from anyone else who admires and enjoys his work. And I’m glad the 1970 Club sent me back to my Bailey shelf. In my year of loving fragmentary novels, this is an excellent find.
I’m also curious about the fragmentary style & this sounds like a superb example. Paul Bailey is nothing more than a name to me–I’ll have to hunt this up.
He doesn’t seem to get mentioned much in the blogosphere, but (based on the two books I’ve read) is a really good author
What a well-written review! This is just perfect: “But considering how fragmentary, achronological and formally experimental Trespasses is, I was very impressed by how clearly the secondary characters come to life. Through a jigsaw of fleeting encounters, we get to know comic creations like landlady”
Aw thanks Lisa, I really appreciate it!
I think it’s quite right that the suicide isn’t explained. It’s what people want to know, and families often torture themselves with the belief that if they’d only known, they could have prevented it.
But when (as a teacher) I attended professional development about suicide, we were told by a prominent psychiatrist here, that people under long term care of psychiatrists sometimes suicide, and his point was that if a trained psychiatrist doing everything possible to help didn’t know in advance, and didn’t know why, and didn’t know why then and not at some other time, and couldn’t prevent it, how can any of us ordinary people know the reason and be able to prevent it? Even a suicide note often doesn’t explain it. It might say, for example, that the person has lost all their money, or a secret lover has died, or whatever, but it doesn’t explain why they couldn’t cope with it, as most people somehow do.
That’s part of the tragedy of it.
Your comment makes me realise that I hadn’t made it clear that I thought it was a good narrative choice to not give Ellie’s reason(s) – so I’ve added an extra bit to make that clear.
This sounds absolutely fascinating and stylistically very experimental – I’m intrigued. I think I only really knew of Bailey from his introductions to Elizabeth Taylor’s work, and he obviously warrants further investigation.
Yes, I think that’s where I first encountered him too! And it led me to At The Jerusalem, which has a lot in common with Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont.
Bailey has written many fine novels and has taken to writing poetry recently. One interesting aspect is his non-judgmentality (is there such a word?). Old Soldiers is another fine novel; not as fragmented as Trespasses but still circling around important events.
At the time the novel was published I knew people very like Bernard. When homosexuality was illegal many gay people adopted a camp persona as a challenge to the “straight” world I think
Oo good, I have Old Soldiers waiting for me on my shelves, thanks Roger
I think I’ve met Paul Bailey, at an Iris Murdoch thing possibly and definitely the Elizabeth Taylor day Ali and I went to years ago. This doesn’t sound my type of thing but I’m glad you enjoyed it and what a good one for the Club!
Oh interesting – I was at the Elizabeth Taylor day too, but had no idea he was there!
It might have been the Barbara Pym thing I went to in Preston (at which you were not). Who knows! It was about a decade ago!
Ah yes, that makes sense!
Thanks for sharing the except, sounds really interesting! I’ve enjoyed his memoirs, An Immaculate Mistake and A Dog’s Life, but have not tried any of his novels yet. Might have to check this out…. :)
I found this very good review – thank you – because I’m reading Trespasses myself and wondered what others thought of it. Paul Bailey died on 27 October. He lived down the road from me and I published his last two books, both collections of poetry, with my own small press, CB editions. As well as being a fine writer he was wonderful company, generous and full of enthusiasms.
Thank you, Charles! I saw he’d died and was sorry to hear it – glad to see a few obituaries and his legacy acknowledged. And even gladder to hear he was such a good man.