One of the things I’ve been occasionally trying to do during A Century of Books is read some of the authors who’ve been waiting on my shelves for years and years. Among those is Alice Thomas Ellis – I have three or four, and I think one of them has been there since about 2003. The one that I chose – Unexplained Laughter (1985) – has only been there since 2009, but it’s quite time that I gave her a go. Here are some quick thoughts about it…
“What was that?” asked Lydia. She was standing in blackness in the middle of a narrow, ice-cold stream. The stones over which it flowed were as slippery as its fish and Lydia was wearing town shoes.
“It’s an owl,” said Betty.
“No, it isn’t,” argued Lydia. “Owls go tu-whit-tu-whoo. Whatever that was was squeaking. It was a mammal – something furry. Something’s eating something furry.”
“Give me your hand,” said Betty irritably. “I’m on the other side. I think I’ve found the path again. And it’s only the tawny owl who goes tu-whit-tu-whoo. All the rest squeak like that.”
“I can’t see my hand,” said Lydia. “Anyway, you’ll have to wait because I’m going to have hysterics. I’m going to stand in this stream and scream.”
That’s more or less the beginning (except for one of the occasional, confusing bits in italics from ‘Angharad’ that I largely ended up skimming). Lydia has retired to the atavistic and wild world of a holiday cottage in Wales, escaping her cosmopolitan life. With her is put-upon friend/companion/dogsbody Betty – who is very much the victim of Lydia’s barbs and selfishness.
Based on this novel, I’d put Alice Thomas Ellis in the category of Muriel Spark, Jane Bowles, and (some) Penelope Fitzgerald – inasmuch as she creates larger than life characters who say exactly what comes to them. Lydia is a monster on a small scale, but it’s very entertaining to read her bluntness and quips. Because of the tone of the novel, we don’t feel too bad for Betty – or any of the villagers who receive the pointed end of Lydia’s observations.
Less successful, to my mind, was the curious supernatural undertone. I don’t have a problem with that being in the novel, but I just felt a bit confused and lost as to what was going on – and what the reader was supposed to be understanding by it.
But I’m a sucker for the late-century brittleness and absurdity, and I’m sure I’ll be back to my shelves to read more of the Alice Thomas Ellis there.
How interesting to see you writing about Alice Thomas Ellis in the same week as Ali’s post about another of her books, Home Life. There’s clearly something in the water! I like the idea of this writer being in a similar space to Muriel Spark and Penelope Fitzgerald (at least in part). Less so Jane Bowles, but maybe I need to persevere with her. I didn’t take to her Two Serious Ladies when I tried to read it a couple of years ago, but maybe my timing was a little off – it’s hard to tell. Anyway, you’ve definitely helped to put Alice Thomas Ellis on my radar. Thanks!
I just bought Home Life because of Ali’s review of it. Seeing Alice Thomas Ellis on both your blogs confirms my impression that this is an author I need to read. Neither of you has steered me wrong yet!
There must be something in the air Simon, with both of us reviewing Alice Thomas Ellis. This one sounds delightful. I have only read one novel by Alice Thomas Ellis (the book I just reviewed was the first volume of her Spectator articles). I am determined to investigate more of her work. I love that humor evidenced in those quotes you’ve used. The Inn at the edge of the world had a slight supernatural element too, although I enjoyed the novel overall, I wasn’t so fond of that element.