Elis odlazi vozom u posetu svojim sestrama u Škotsku. Šest sati kasnije, na stanici, ona ugleda nešto toliko strašno da se odmah okreće i prvim vozom vraća za London. I dalje u šoku, ona doživljava saobraćajnu nesreću nakon koje ostaje u komi. Vrtlog glasova i slika polako otkriva njenu prošlost – njene roditelje, a naročito njenu majku En, njenu voljenu baku Elspet, njene dve sestre, kao i Džona Fridmana kojeg je volela i izgubila.
Ovo je ljubavna priča, ali i priča o odsutnosti, i o tome kako naše odluke mogu odzvanjati kroz čitave generacije. Ona nas polako dovodi do mračne tajne koja se krije u srcu porodice.
Maggie O'Farrell (born 1972, Coleraine Northern Ireland) is a British author of contemporary fiction, who features in Waterstones' 25 Authors for the Future. It is possible to identify several common themes in her novels - the relationship between sisters is one, another is loss and the psychological impact of those losses on the lives of her characters.
I could probably read O’Farrell’s grocery list and be mesmerized—I just can’t keep my eyes off her words. They make me relaxed and excited at the same time. This is the fourth book I’m read of hers in the past couple of months, which says something, because I like to sit down with a variety of writers. Once in a blue moon, I’ll read two books by the same author in a year, but no more.
In her other books, O’Farrell makes these gigantic, run-on lists telling us what’s happening. I just love that style. She doesn’t do that in this debut novel, however, but I can see why this book set off her career. She knows how to reel you in, right away.
Behold her first sentence:
“The day she would try to kill herself, she realized winter was coming again.”
I don’t know about you, but I was all ears, pronto-like. Besides a sentence that slays me, everything else is right too. Her language is beauteous, the plot is tight, the atmosphere is vivid. And the best part, for me, are the hefty characters and their thoughts.
Most of the airtime goes to Alice, a young woman in love, although we also hear about her grandmother and mother. I like everything to be a surprise for the reader, so I’m just going to say that the book is about love, grief, and a secret. Oh, O’Farrell and her secrets!
Here is Alice’s secret, which sets up the mystery at the beginning of the book:
“…she saw something so odd and unexpected and sickening that it was as if she’d glanced in the mirror to discover that her face was not the one she thought she had.”
Okay, zap, you’ve got me, Ms. Maggie. You have me right in the palm of your hand, as usual. We don’t find out what Alice saw until the end of the book, which could have pissed me off. But the story is so damn interesting, I waited patiently. The ride there was worth the price of admission.
O’Farrell’s style is unique. She seamlessly mixes up time periods and types of narration, often right in the middle of a page, with no hint that you’re going into another universe. I’ve seen this in all the books of hers I’ve read; I’d say it’s her signature. She does it brilliantly, weaving several stories together with ease, and keeping up the intensity of each storyline. I feel like she has some sort of writing trick up her sleeve. The changes are abrupt, yet your mind makes the switch, lickety-split. Sometimes the point-of-view changes (and the type of narration, too) while everyone is in a room together, so we get to see the action from multiple people, in multiple ways. All very skillfully done. I’ve shoved this book into the hands of lovers of linear, and they’ve liked the book despite their need for sequential.
There were two things that screamed “debut.” First, occasionally (thank god, only occasionally) there’s a self-conscious creative-writing-class sentence, like this one:
“The vibrations of Annie’s strenuous efforts travelled across the table and up the twin-violin-bow bones of Alice’s forearms to reverberate in her cranium.”
Oh come on! Really? Good thing I’m already a big fan, or that sentence might have sent me running. I’m betting O’Farrell worked a long time on that sentence. Personally, I think she should have killed this little darling like any good writing manual would urge.
The other thing the debut detector turned up: A logistical mess that happened right at the beginning. We’re at a train station with Alice, her two sisters, and two small kids. Was one kid holding a hand the whole time? The hand of which sister? Who had the baby? The group hug with three sisters and two kids—hard to picture. I had to read it several times. My mind couldn’t see it because it was a blob of an interaction, and I couldn’t untangle it or the bodies trying to hug each other. The editor must have been snoozing. But the good news is that it was an isolated incident.
I’ve seen some reviewers call this chick lit, but I beg to differ. For one thing, I had to look up many words—you don’t often find killer vocabulary in chick lit. Plus, O’Farrell’s plots are intricate, complicated, and interwoven, also something you don’t often find in chick lit. This is not to say I don’t like chick lit—I do. I just think of this as literary fiction is all.
A silly aside—I know I shouldn’t go by appearances, but I do sometimes: That “you’d” in the book title bugs the hell out of me. It’s not just visual, though; I don’t like the sound either—it’s too deep-sounding and mean. (It rhymes with “booed”—maybe that’s my problem.) Plus, I don’t like contracting the word “had.” Never have, never will. It just sounds wrong, and I cringe every time I see the title.
This book is comfortable and entertaining. It’s not as wonderful as I Am, I Am, I Am or The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox, but it’s a good read. O’Farrell fans won’t be disappointed. I doubt I’ll remember the details of the story (like I will with Esme), but the book soothed me. It got me through the Kavanaugh week.
From the beginning I wanted to know what the awful thing was that Alice sees that causes her to leave Scotland so abruptly after just arriving for a family visit. She’s in a coma, after being hit by a car as she reflects back on her life, her loves, her family, as she grieves a loss. The narrative moves back and forth from past to present, from first to third person, and the reflections are not just Alice’s. Maggie O’Farrell does this phenomenal thing by moving back and forth between different points of views, different times, reminding me of her later books. There are no real breaks for the different time frames and points of view. They are blended on the same page. It’s like putting together the pieces of a puzzle and I’m amazed that for me there is never confusion. Relationships are often times complex, families many times have secrets that don’t always make life easy especially when trying to keep the secrets from others in the family. There always seems to be secrets in her novels and this creates for a little suspense, a lot of tension between the characters and wonderful character studies. It’s heartbreaking at times and my heart was with Alice as she forges her way through relationships with her mother, her grandmother, her best friend and John, the man she falls totally in love with. I’ve spent most of December reading books of some of my favorite authors that I just hadn’t gotten around to and this was one of them. Its Maggie O’Farrell’s debut novel and had I read this before her later novels, I would have thought that this was a writer I would watch for. One more to read in 2019.
In praise of this novel and writer, Colum McCann wrote: ”A psychological meditation on the issues of family and love . . . written in crisp, clear, unadorned prose. Maggie O’Farrell is certainly a voice to look out for.”
Prophetic words indeed, as we all now know. This was Maggie O’Farrell’s first novel, published in 2000. In the Author’s Notes at the end she describes how this book started with a couple of paragraphs, and was written piecemeal over a period of a few years while holding down what jobs she could during a recession. She also describes how it grew and grew until it was huge and cumbersome, and how she was fortunate to find people who helped her shape it – with solid guidance and scissors.
For any novel, this one is excellent; for a debut, it is outstanding. We experience first-hand the troubles and trials of three generations of a family struggling to make their way, as families do. Making mistakes, compounding errors by trying to cover them up; being exposed by who and how they love; the raw and unrelenting pains of loss; and the ways that families push each other out of their lives with one hand versus the need and drive to draw them closer with the other.
This is my first Maggie O’Farrell read and it will definitely not be my last. I have had several of her novels on my eReader for some time and cannot believe that I have not read them sooner. After the moving and eloquently raw writing of this first one, I am eager to explore this writer’s journey by reading her subsequent novels.
I highly recommend this novel to readers who enjoy reading family sagas that ring solidly of truth and the realities of life that we all face in some way or another.
“Love is not changed by death and nothing is lost, and all in the end is harvest.” Julian of Norwich
I was prepared for this not to be Maggie O’Farrell at her best. After all, it is her debut novel and she is bound to have gotten better over the years…right? Nope. She started out her writing career a full-blown amazement and never faltered afterward.
This novel starts off with a bit of a mystery. Alice sees something while visiting her home in Scotland that makes her run back to London, and we do not know what it is she saw. She is plunged into a coma immediately thereafter, so we must wait for the details of her experience to emerge. Just the desire to know what she saw would have been enough to propel me to the end, but there is so much more to this novel than that.
There is romance, but I would not label this a romance novel. There is humor, but it is tempered with foreboding. There is tragedy, particularly of the kind family members inflict upon one another. There is the reminder that our capacity for forgiveness should be equal to our capacity for love and that time is a limited commodity.
Written in flashbacks, while Alice lies in a coma, the details of Alice’s life come with clues that slowly unravel and reveal not only who Alice is but the secrets of those who touch on her life the closest. As the story progressed, my affinity for Alice grew, until I felt like I was living in her skin.
Maggie O’Farrell has rapidly become a favorite author for me, and I am convinced that her understanding of the human condition makes it unlikely she will ever fail to leave me in awe of her writing. I have hopes of reading all her books before I am through. Maybe 2022 will be the year of O’Farrell for me.
My goodness Ms. O’Farrell, where have you been all of my reading life and why is this only the second of your novels that I have read?
This debut was absolutely astonishing. Maggie O’Farrell can tell a story and fit all of the pieces together flawlessly. I knew from reading The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox that I needed to read more from this author, and now I want to gobble up and savor everything she’s written!
I also learned that it’s important not to start a book like this when I know I’m not going to be able to devote the time to read it straight through. I had guests in town for a week just after I started reading this book, and started over from the beginning after I’d only gotten just under a hundred pages done. This one needs your devotion and attention so that you can fully experience all of the emotional ups and downs Ms. O’Farrell takes readers through.
The story is simple but it’s not quite so really. It’s about love and family, grief and loss, forgiveness and healing. Ms. O’Farrell starts at the end of the story and works her way through the entire life story of Alice who is lying in a coma. She arrives on the train in Scotland to visit her family when she sees something so horrifying and shocking that she can’t stay. She abruptly heads back to London in a daze and is hit by a car on the way to the supermarket. As she lies in a coma, she reflects on her life’s events and remembers old boyfriends, fun times with her sisters, wonderful moments spent with her grandmother, some difficult experiences with her mother, and a loss she cannot get over.
To me it feels as if everything has been tilted to reveal this whole other picture which has existed just out of sight, all along.
The story goes back and forth in time almost effortlessly. If you don’t catch on pretty quickly that the narrative is not chronological, you might get confused. There aren’t breaks between each change in tense but I found that the flow of the story moving from different points of view and times was beautifully done. Through her memories, Alice’s life comes to make sense when the details are so perfectly and slowly revealed and the family secrets come to the surface. Several times I winced in agony over the heartbreaking events. O’Farrell’s stunning prose puts readers right there with her characters so that you feel with them, cry with them, laugh with them, and love with them.
I never knew it was possible to think about someone all of the time, for someone to be always doing acrobatic leaps across your thoughts. Everything else was an unwelcome distraction from what I wanted to think about.
This is a book not to be missed if you are a Maggie O’Farrell fan. I’m already trying to decide what I will pick up next.
Time is not infinite, and there is no way of knowing just how much of it a person has been allotted in a given life. It would behoove us to use it as wisely as possible. If forgiveness is warranted, grant it if you are able. Some choices made will make life more difficult. The power of love and of grief make themselves known in vastly different ways.
A stunning debut by Maggie O'Farrell. Fresh out of the egg, and she was already brilliant.
4★ “Why isn't life better designed so it warns you when terrible things are about to happen? I saw something. Something awful.”
I didn’t realise this was Maggie O’Farrell’s debut until after I’d read it. I’ve enjoyed other books of hers and always wanted to read more. Her female characters are complex and flawed and believable. I don’t remember any of the men, but perhaps that’s just me.
Alice is in a coma after being hit by a car, with her mother Ann and devoted dad, Ben, at her bedside. We see a lot of Ann’s story as well as Alice’s. We don’t know Ben particularly well (nice man) but we meet his mother, Elspeth, who was young Alice’s closest confidante.
There seems to be a fashion currently writing crossing timelines and points of view, but O’Farrell wrote this almost two decades ago. She runs scenes together, but something about the voice changes enough that I realised pretty quickly that I was in someone else’s head. I think she does it better than most.
We meet Alice as an adult, taking the train to Edinburgh to see her sisters, but after a brief cup of coffee at the train station, she suddenly announces she has to return to London. Now, this instant, next train. We were there, but we have no idea what it is except she seems to have seen “something. Something awful” reflected in a mirror when she was in the big bathroom at the station.
Mirrors do appear in other scenes, and one conceit I found interesting, was when Alice stops to look in a mirror and wonders if mirrors capture us when we look in them.
“It must have an image of him locked away somewhere in its depths. . . to imagine that he is standing just behind it, his face pressed up close to the surface, watching her passing beneath him . . . “
It’s an interesting idea. I have to say, however, in real life I find it disconcerting to see people I know well in a mirror. All the familiar irregularities are backwards, but it’s still a curious idea that part of us may be still be there. It’s akin to the belief that photographs will steal a piece of your life. But I digress.
Each of these women has had her own trials. Elspeth was only seven when her parents, who adored each other, became missionaries and left her in boarding school for seven years, sending her little gifts and postcards from time to time. Not only that, they didn’t tell her they were going.
“They dressed Elspeth in her best clothes and took her out for a walk on the beach, each holding one of her hands. While she was playing with the pebbles and seaweed on the blustery seashore, they slipped away and when she turned round they were gone and in their place was the upright figure of a housemistress for St Cuthbert's School for Girls, who took her by the elbow and led her up the beach and on to a train for Edinburgh and boarding-school.”
I was immediately reminded of the days of yore when young lads of seven (I think) left home to be assigned to serve knights. SEVEN! It really doesn’t bear thinking about for me. That was Elspeth’s generation.
Ann is the middle generation and another product of boarding school – eleven years of it – where the nuns teach the girls to peel fruit and exit a car gracefully without showing their slip. All the things a well-bred young lass needs to know to face the world. Ann learns it all easily and does well.
“Ann glances at herself in the rear-view mirror. Her way isn’t rebellion but inner defiance. She hoists herself from the seat gracefully, her skirt falling at the desired angle into the correct folds.”
She seems to maintain that defiant core right through life, and she needs it to deal with Alice, the middle of her three daughters. They are at permanent loggerheads.
“. . . [Alice] left to travel the world. She waved goodbye from a train window, beads looped and plaited into her long black hair, rainbow skirts trailing the ground. She returned crop-haired, in tight leather trousers, an Oriental dragon rampant on her shoulder-blade.
'How was the world?' Ann asked.
'Full,' she replied.”
Alice was outwardly rebellious, unlike her inwardly defiant mother, and she often went to Elspeth for understanding. Elspeth seemed to sense what would keep Alice in line, which is sometimes the case with skipped generations. Mind you, Alice set fire to the curtains and thought it was wonderful, so she wasn’t an easy child to understand!
There are a few love stories woven in, the central one being Alice’s, of course, and we are allowed into her mind in the coma as she remembers and relives her past. Because it’s not a chronological story, we piece the bits together as they are revealed until we have the whole picture. Love, jealousy, joy, grief – life, the whole thing.
This is the fifth novel I’ve read of this author and its her debut. I enjoyed it… a novel about love, loss, family, friends and grief… with a mystery in the beginning… what did Alice see in the lavatory of the train station that set her into a tailspin… you wonder about this through most of the book. Great characters, Scotland and London settings.. a bit of a dark novel.
'OK. My father said that if I were to marry you it would be like letting Hitler win,' he says, in a rush.
There is a pause while Alice attempts mentally to process this statement. 'Letting Hitler-?' She shakes her head. 'I don't understand. What on earth have we got to do with Hitler?'
'Because if I were to marry you, our children wouldn't be Jewish, and he sees that as the extermination of Jews.' (PG. 214)
What an intricate beautiful love story!! Against all odds Alice and John love one another and stay together only to be separated. Bittersweet.
The story is told in different viewpoints, which oddly enough, didn't confuse me. This is the author's earlier work and I feel through this title she found her niche. The families past coincides with the future and mistakes are made from the past that tumble into the present. We see each journey of the maternal side. O'Farrell knows how to weave her story. Glad she wasn't born a spider....
Sendo esta uma autora de eleição de algumas meninas aqui do GR, quando vi este livro na feira de velharias cá da cidade, resolvi trazê-lo comigo.
Comecei a ler, mas não me entusiasmou. Achei um pouco confuso. Apanha o comboio, sai do comboio, visita as irmãs, volta para o comboio. Não estava a perceber nada.
Depois, vi uma menina que não dá estrelas aos livros, sim, menina Katya, estou falando com você 😅, a ficar completamente arrebatada e tive de ir ver o que se passava de tão interessante para além do comboio.
E não me arrependo de o ter feito. Sente-se que houve uma tragédia, mas vai sendo revelada aos poucos, não é logo clara. Isso foi o que me deixou um pouco de pé atrás, pois nunca mais chegava ao que realmente aconteceu e eu sou pessoa impaciente que quer saber as coisas. E impaciente é algo que Dona Margarida não é.😂
NOT A REVIEW OF AFTER YOU'D GONE, WHICH WAS OKAY BUT WENT IN ONE EAR AND OUT THE OTHER
I realise goodreads is for books but I found a piece of beautiful writing about the vain search for modern romance in a movie called Kissing Jessica Stein. The first part of this movie is all about a thirty-ish woman in New York who can't meet the right guy, fairly usual but quite funny too. Then it takes off in a different direction, which I'll refrain from commenting on or you'll raise your eyebrows, I know you will. Anyway the dvd contained some deleted scenes, and in those scenes I found this gem. Jessica our heroine has been seeing a guy for a week or so and he seems okay-ish but fairly aggravating, and by now what she really wants is for him to go far far away, but at that very point he announces that he thinks he's in love with her and that he's never felt so close to another person and that he feels they just click. So this is what Jessica says, and she says it all in a breathless rush at 60 miles an hour.
Click? No. We do not click. You know we don't have one thing in common. We don't click in any way. We don't have chemistry or banter or common interests. You're a yoga instructor, you get colonics, you don't appreciate the chaos and absurdity of life on this planet and in this city, you don't understand irony or eccentricity or poetry or the simple joy of being a regular at your diner on your block - I love that. You don't drink coffee or alcohol, you don't overeat or cry when you're alone, you don't understand sarcasm, you plod through life in a neat, colourless caffeine free dairy free conflict free banal self-possessed way. I'm bold and angry and tortured and tremendous and I notice when somebody has changed their hair parting or when somebody is wearing two distinctly different shades of black or when someone changes the natural timbre of their voice on the phone. I don't give out empty praise, I'm not complacent or well-adjusted. I can't spend 50 minutes breathing and stretching and getting in touch with myself, I can't even spend three minutes finishing an article. I check my phone machine nine times a day because I feel there's so much to do and fix and change in the world and I wonder every day if I'm making a difference and if I will ever express greatness or if I will remain forever paralysed by muddled madness inside my head. I've wept on every birthday I ever had because life is huge and fleeting and I hate certain people and certain shoes and I feel that life is terribly unfair and sometimes beautiful and wonderful and extraordinary and also numbing and horrifying and insurmountable and I hate myself a lot of the time but the rest of the time I adore myself. I adore my life in this city, in this world that we live in, in this huge and wondrous bewildering brilliant horrible world. (Pause) In these ways I feel that we do not click.
This book wrecked me. It follows a woman named Alice who’s in a coma after stepping into traffic, and her family doesn’t know whether or not it was a suicide attempt. The narrative jumps around to all different periods of her life, focusing on her relationship with her lover, John – a relationship that we learn has ended, but we don’t know why. We also get snippets of her mother and grandmother’s lives. The writing overall wasn’t my favorite. Mostly I thought there were too many adjectives (she never uses one when she could use two or three, and I recognized this because it’s one of the flaws in my own writing), and sometimes the verb choices were strange and distracting. And there are several cases of insta-love that taken collectively would’ve bothered me more in another book. But really, I loved this novel. So much of the writing is beautiful in a slightly disjointed way (which I viewed as intentional, given the characters’ mental states), and the whole story happens in that emotional space where your chest aches and you feel tears pressing behind your eyes. The way O’Farrell crafts Alice and John’s relationship is gorgeous. She captures that feeling of being completely comfortable with someone, and loving them more than you ever thought you could. Having finished the story I feel emotionally fragile and like I might burst into tears if someone looks at me the wrong way. I’ll be reading all of O’Farrell’s backlist, I think – I’m just in the mood for her tone and imagery.
4.5 🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠 Bingo O 4 ✅ The Marvelous Ms. Maggie O. It would be reasonable to expect a let down reading a favorite author's debut novel after one has read her entire collection. But if you're a fan, you know that's probably a long shot if you're a betting person. It's like she's a human MRI scanner with her words, exposing detailed and intimate images of our deepest humanity and heartbreaks. It got a wee bit drawn out in the end hanging with Alice in her coma, just like it would if you were waiting it out with any comatose loved one, and then, and then . . . I am I am I am crying. I'm an emotional wreck and I don't care. I loved it.
What to do now? Maybe check out her husband's work looking for guilt by association? Thank you friend-fans for your marvelous reviews. I love revisiting the reading experience through your minds and hearts.
You know that rule some people have about reading 50 pages of a book and deciding whether to put it down or continue with it? Well I’m not sure if this would have made it if I were a stickler to that rule. Actually, writing that, I’m not sure exactly which page it was that made me realize I liked this book. But I do know that I mostly muddled my way through the first lot of pages. The narration confused me a little. Multiple points of view, different periods of time. It was as if the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle were in front of me, but I didn’t have the faintest idea what the picture was. It didn’t help that I read part of it after the 430/5 am feedings, using the night mode on the Bluefire ereader app.
But there was something about Alice. When she meets her John and they muddle their way into a relationship. There’s something about his doggedness, her seeming initial reluctance to be a part of it, then it grows into that sweetness of love, bolstered by their determination to be together despite disapproval. Their immense, heady, head-in-the-clouds love. That was what made me want to carry on. That was what took my own heart a little bit. This relationship, this character of Alice, these things creep under your skin and
The story begins with Alice, heading out on the train to Edinburgh to see her sisters. But something happens and she decides to head back to London. She steps out into the street and is hit by a car. As she lies in a coma in hospital, the narrative, as I had mentioned earlier*, flits from the present to the past, unravelling the circumstances that have led up to this day. This involves her mother, her grandmother, her sisters, and her John.
This story has stayed with me, and everytime I think of it, I feel strangely overwhelmed. There is so much emotion and sentiment in this story. Perhaps it’s a little melodramatic, but it is very moving, and beautifully and sharply written.
I look up O’Farrell’s bibliography and realised that this was her first novel. I can’t wait to read the rest of her books!
Nas duas primeiras partes andei à deriva a maior parte do tempo; capítulos curtos referentes a demasiadas personagens que apareciam em diversos períodos das suas vidas sem ordem ou qualquer identificação. Cheguei a ler mais de uma página até perceber de quem se tratava. Também não me identifiquei minimamente com nenhum deles, irritava-me até com o seu comportamento e não encontrava nada de excepcional no desdobrar do enredo. Quando já cogitava que isto de ler Hamnet e achar que a Maggie já teria saído do berço a escrever daquela maneira tinha sido asneira, eis que morre alguém. ”Et voilà!”, ninguém escreve sobre luto como Maggie O`Farrell! Ninguém usa esta eloquência com tanta sensibilidade e clareza. Até quem nunca teve uma grande perda reconhece os sentimentos que terá no dia em que tal acontecer. E isto é muito difícil de fazer sem cair na lamechice. Lavei os olhos por dentro e fiz as pazes com a Maggie.
I feel as though a cloud has been lifted, now that I've finished this book. That's not to say I didn't like it, but Maggie O'Farrell manages to create such an intense atmosphere, I felt almost exhausted reading it. I feel i am giving an unfair impression of this book. It's a mix of mystery, thriller, romance... and I cannot possibly assign it to a single genre. Alice, the central figure in this story, ends up in a coma after witnessing a mysterious incident when she goes to visit her family. O'Farrell skips around in time and various POVs, which some readers might well find annoying, but after a while I really got used to it, and it is done very skillfully. The story slowly unravels and we are given glimpses of the past, distant and near, like separate puzzle pieces, which only in the last 100 pages really fit together. It is a story about family, and family secrets, romance and love, and dealing with all the complications and joys those aspects of life entail. As mentioned before, it's an extremely atmospheric novel, and I can hardly believe this is a debut! Truly impressive, and well worth reading, but not recommended as a pick-me-up or for a laugh. It reminded me, stylistically, of 'Into the Darkest Corner' or even a little of a more elegant and English Jodi Picault story.
I think I chose to read my first Maggie O' Farrell book at exactly the right time in my life. I'm feeling a little wobbly myself right now, so I don't know if this has majorly impacted my enjoyment of this book because quite frankly, this was an incredibly unique experience to say the least, and I hoovered up O'Farrells words faster than a Dyson.
She had me at the very first sentence;
"The day she would try to kill herself, she realized winter was coming again.”
I mean, wow. As soon as I had read that, I had an incredibly strong urge to find out the reason behind this attempted suicide. I was entirely intrigued, shall we say.
Our main character is called Alice, and Alice falls in love, but I wouldn't say for a moment that this is a glorious, romantic love story. This is one of pain, depression and making impossible decisions. There are many wonderful characters that weave perfectly together throughout the story, and as we read the story, we also learn much about those characters and their personal thoughts.
O' Farrell's style is a rather unique one, and she jumps from one time period to the next rather abruptly, but I must say, this is done wonderfully well, because in doing so, she ensures there is still a build up of tension within each scene. I really liked that.
There obviously were a couple of issues, but not ones that ruined my enjoyment of the book. I can't really appreciate the title of the book too much as there is a 'You'd' in it. I mean, why? And, I must say, the actual 'secret' didn't shock me all that much, because I knew it was coming, and to be honest, I was hoping for something more dramatic.
Despite those, this was a wonderful read, and it has encouraged me to seek out more from O'Farrell in the near future.
This is Maggie O’Farrell’s debut novel and the 4th I’ve read by her. I only read her for the first time last year, I don’t know why I’d never come across her before because she is a wonderful writer. After you’d gone is about Alice, a young Scottish woman living in London. The story jumps backwards and forwards in time, through points of view, and Alice in first person. It could be confusing but somehow it isn’t, it just made me want to read quicker so I could join all the threads. It’s main themes are love, family and relationships, secrets in families (and the known but unsaid secrets), loss and grief. Also that parents need to accept the choices their adult children make, particularly their choice of partner. I found myself drawn into this story and getting quite emotionally involved, I felt shock at about the two thirds mark, it really increased the impact of the story for me.
Se Depois de Tu Partires for uma amostra fiel da obra de O'Farrell, a senhora tem aqui mais uma fã. Fã mesmo, tão fã que não consegui pousar o livro enquanto não lhe vi o fim. E, embora sinta que não devo desvendar muito sobre ele, sinto também que há que começar por fazer justiça a um primeiro livro de uma autora já por muitos considerada um clássico, nomeadamente - assim só para começar no menos bom e acabar no excelente: a existência de alguns problemas a nível de enredo e ação ali logo no início do romance, com uma salganhada de personagens que se cruzem em cenas complicadas e que não podem funcionar a nível cenográfico. Todavia, quando O'Farrell tira este primeiro imbróglio do caminho, a coisa começa a tomar balanço e vai por aí fora na mecha para nos contar a história de Alice Raiker a partir de um evento traumático, o "dia em que ia tentar matar-se", numa sequência de prolepses e analepses vertiginosas que nos empurram para trás e para a frente, obrigando-nos a assistir e resistir ao destino através de flashes muito breves da sua vida. E se isto é um primeiro romance, eu rendo-me já, mesmo com alguns acidentes no percurso inicial!
Duas horas após o nascimento da sua segunda filha, Ann embrulhou cuidadosamente a bebé num xaile. A bebé esperneou com os seus membros vermelhos e irados até se conseguir libertar, mantendo as suas minúsculas mãos de estrela-do-mar cerradas em sinal de rebeldia. Chamaram-lhe Alice - um nome curto que pareceu nunca conseguir conter todo o seu carácter.
O cerne do romance, porém, está tanto na história pessoal quanto na história familiar de Alice; tanto na sua história particular quanto na história de "ser mulher"; e tanto na realidade dessas mesmas histórias quanto na fantasia e mistério que nelas habitam. Porque Depois de Tu Partires - creio que bem ao estilo de O'Farrell, se os meus ouvidos e os outros leitores não me enganaram - se alicerça num mistério que dará à autora a oportunidade de ir desvelando camada por camada uma estrutura física, psicológica e emocional complexa.
Partindo de uma premissa original, O'Farrell trabalha a perda e a dor de forma magistral; trabalha questões sensíveis como o despertar sexual, o assédio, o adultério, a violência nas relações amorosas, a fidelidade, o abandono emocional, a obsessão e o luto, o crescimento emocional e n outras coisas que, de tão complexas, não vejo como couberam tão à justa em tão poucas páginas. O certo é que O'Farrell cria personagens fascinantes, fortes, credíveis, imperfeitas mas passíveis de ser amadas, com as quais nos podemos ou não identificar, mas às quais é difícil ficarmos indiferentes.
Não acredito no destino. Não acredito em almofadar as nossas inseguranças com um sistema de crenças que nos diz: «Não te preocupes. Esta pode ser a tua vida, mas não és tu quem a controla. Há alguma coisa, ou alguém, a proteger-te - já está tudo organizado. É tudo uma questão de sorte e escolhas, o que é muitíssimo mais assustador.
Quando se alonga para fora daquilo que é o enredo do romance e desenvolve a estrutura psicológica, O'Farrell fá-lo de forma impressionante, profunda sem apelar demasiado ao sentimento fácil, mas também sem escudar o leitor numa posição externa - antes o obrigando a intervir em proximidade com a narrativa, na intimidade do lar e do coração dos personagens -, o que resulta num clímax devastador (não é spoiler porque este livro é todo ele devastador) por ser tão próximo de quem o lê. Depois de Tu Partires tem tudo isto e um gostinho de saga familiar que me é muito querido e por isso não tive forma de resistir ao seu encanto. Esta é uma daquelas raras (raríssimas) vezes em que me faltam palavras depois de uma leitura e pressinto que este efeito se irá repetir com outros títulos da autora. Isso, creio que como qualquer outro leitor, é aquilo que mais anseio.
O que é que devemos fazer com todo o amor que sentimos por essa pessoa, se essa pessoa já não está cá? O que é que acontece a todo esse excedente de amor? Devemos suprimi-lo? Devemos ignorá-lo? Devemos dá-lo a outra pessoa qualquer?
This one was depressing. Accurate in its portrayal of grief. Above average wordcraft but this is the one book of hers that, to me, became a trudge read. Too much frenetic time and narrator hopping for my taste.
Despite all, she encapsulates emotional climates superbly here. Tense and stressful (eternally sad or depressed) over all possible types of happy or joyful states in an exhausting miasma!
I fell in love with Maggie O’Farrell’s writing when I read Hamnet, and wanted to read everything else she’d written. But I waited because I was scared that the beauty of Hamnet might well be a one off hit. Gosh I’m so silly because I adored After You’d Gone, and I adore Maggie O’Farrell’s words. Excuse me while I go and buy all of her books!
The mystery around the storyline sounds so promising: MC sees something shocking and a few moments later she’s had an accident (which might’ve been a suicide attempt) that gets her in a coma. However, this book turned out to be more psychological novel/family drama than mystery/thriller. Although those kind of books can be very interesting, this one was rather boring. The author keeps switching from past to present and every moment in between, and although Alice is supposedly “drifting through various stages of consciousness” (see description) it rather felt as if an omniscient narrator was doing the talks. There are also so many details that I might not even have read every word in this book, and if you add some disturbing passages you get a novel that is very hard to get through.
What really disappointed me though is that these disturbing/problematic events don’t seem to serve a point, as they have little consequences. Alice’s mom Ann has been causing Alice a lot of distress during her childhood, and Alice has grown to dislike her mom but somehow it doesn’t really affect her beliefs or traits. Alice’s had some obsessive, even abusing boyfriends, but she just refers to them as ‘douchebags’ and has no trouble at all trusting her (soon to be) current boyfriend (sexually). Ann is a cold, almost sociopathic person, but nobody ever confronts her with this. Her feelings also change creepily quickly . And although we learn a lot on some generations before Ann, we really have no clue how Ann turned out this way. Pointing out how past experiences can affect someone’s present could have made the book. But it didn’t.
So the only things that captivated me and motivated me to keep reading were 1. What did Alice see that was so shocking – to which the answer turned out to be a huge anti-climax and 2. Part three (the final part) of the book because FINALLY we were getting some emotions and that part really touched me. I even think if part three had been the central theme of the book it could’ve been a good novel.
But then there was the ending with more anti–climaxes, mainly because the author prefers not to tell us much on subjects that actually matter . And in retrospect, some characters were so flat that they seem to have been there just to fill some holes in the storyline – like Beth & Kristy .
It was not a terrible read considering there were some good elements, like the relationship between John & Alice and the third part and had this been the focus of the book I would have enjoyed the read. However, the writing style really isn’t my thing, I missed the point of this novel because there were a lot of issues but too little on how this affected the characters’ lives and the ending was unsatisfying. Therefore I would not recommend it.
I didn't really have time to read this book. So I gobbled it up in two days! Isn't that the power of any great book - that reading becomes compulsive as you find yourself sucked into the story regardless of time constraints? It's testament to Maggie O'Farrell's skill as a writer. She cast a line and reeled me in during the opening paragraph. No hint of a dull start or laborious scene setting. The ride begins on line one. When I'd finished it last night, I glanced at the rating on Amazon, out of curiosity. A recent one-line review caught my eye. It simply said, 'I did not find much of a story to this book'. To me, that's tantamount to observing that England isn't very green, or that there is no treasure to be found in The Tower of London, having visited, but completely missed The Jewel House.
The story is outstanding; the writing equally so. Just the perfect cocktail of narrative and dialogue, and a wonderful blend of subtle humour and vivid scenes - heart-breaking, some of them. I laughed out loud in parts, and not because Maggie O'Farrell served the humour up on a great big plate with garnish. The humour surfaced gently, through her supreme ability to shine a light on the hypocrisy and even absurdity of human beings, never more evident than in family relationships. But the real strength of the book for me, lay in the construction of the scenes themselves. She uses colourful and poignant fragments from the lives of the characters to create a patchwork story that is so well seamed together, it was difficult to see the stitching. The scenes criss-cross and dart around all through the book. Past, present, distant past, this person, then that. During short scenes and using a selection of tools from her technical toolbox which include first person and third person writing, and mixing the past tense with the present, she successfully breathes life into the characters and does so with depth and clarity.
Do you need a synopsis of the story? I think not. You need to know if a novel is worth your time and dosh. This one is. If I had a tiny quibble (a teenie tiny one) it was the over-use of the word curl! She uses this verb to excess, which is very surprising when the prose is just littered with gorgeous writing and wonderful turns of phrase. She possesses the ability to do what all good writers do - conjure words from a rich imagination in order to describe what to most would be the indescribable. She awakened in me things that I already knew that had never made it past the turnstile of my consciousness and been converted into words. So when she used a verb to the point where it repeatedly brought attention to itself, I was puzzled. She has more than enough vocabulary at her disposal to have selected a variety of verbs. It's a small thing and matters not. I can sum up the book in two simple words really. Great stuff!
I finished this a few days ago and had to ruminate on it.
Maggie O’Farrell has been such an exquisite way of drawing me in with her writing.
“What are you supposed to do with all this love when a person is no longer there?”
When Alice travels from London to Scotland to see her sisters she suddenly rushes home after seeing something. What did Alice see? When Alice gets back to London she is involved in an awful accident. As her family gathers around her bedside in the hospital, secrets are bared, questions regarding the nature of her accident. Was it suicide or unfortunate timing?
You then get the background of all the family. You travel through her beautiful love story and ultimately you find out why Alice returned so suddenly.
The ending of the story is abrupt but I think there was enough foreshadowing to surmise the outcome. The power of forgiveness is such a key component as well.
I can’t believe this was her debut book. A real stunner Maggie O’Farrell.
The prologue opens with Alice impulsively boarding a train to Edinburgh to visit her sisters. She's only there for a few minutes before she sees something so shocking that she promptly takes the train back to London. That night she steps off a curb into traffic. Was she deep in thought or suicidal?
As Alice drifts through levels of consciousness, she reflects on her own life and loves, her mother Ann, and her paternal grandmother Elspeth. The points of view of others are also revealed. The story is about family secrets, love, loss, and grief, but some humor balances the tragic.
Hair is an important symbol in the story. Alice chops it off unevenly as a defiant child, her lover finds her waist-length hair erotic, and Alice's head is shaved in the hospital after her accident. An ex-boyfriend sends her his long curls in an envelope in an attempt to send her on a guilt trip after their breakup.
This would be a difficult book for someone who is grieving since heartbreaking loss is a major theme. "After You'd Gone" was Maggie O'Farrell's debut novel, and her writing talent was already obvious in 2000. I enjoy character-driven novels and could not put the book down, finishing it in one evening.
O'Farrell's debut novel piques your interest right away with young Alice experiencing a mystery "something" that unsettles her, followed by Alice being hit by a car and left in a coma. The rest of the book changes time frames and points of view to slowly unravel her history, exposing what brought her to this moment in her life.
The content is part mystery, part love story, and part dramatic family conflict. We primarily get to know Alice, her mother, Ann, and her husband, John, although other family members are also key to understanding the tension, secrets and outcome of choices made along the way. There are pivotal moments when a choice made has lasting consequences, not just to the person making the choice, but to those with whom they intersect. There were familiar themes of relationship stress, love and loss, grief and forgiveness. In less capable hands this might have seemed mundane, but O'Farrell has a knack for keeping the familiar interesting.
I listened to this on audio, which made the shifting timelines and POV a bit challenging initially as I met the cast of characters. For some, this might be a good reason to choose print format.
Whatever has happened, happens always Andrew Greig
What can I say about the time we spent in each other’s lives? That we were happy. That we were barely apart. That, fleetingly, I would get that vertiginous, towering feeling of knowing another person so well that you could actually see what it would be like to be them. That I never felt incomplete before I met him but with him I felt finished, whole. [...] What else is there to say? That I loved him more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. That his father never spoke to him again. * What are you supposed to do with all the love you have for somebody if that person is no longer there? What happens to all that leftover love? Do you suppress it? Do you ignore it? Are you supposed to give it to someone else?
I made a huge mistake in choosing to read AFTER YOU'D GONE, by Maggie O'Farrell. I'm not a fan of family dramas and here we have not one, not two, but three generations of familial bickering. I was initially intrigued by the book description where Alice, the youngest of the generations, "witnesses something so shocking that she insists on returning to London immediately." I wanted to know what she saw. Unfortunately, we don't know what she saw even when she sees it. I read 165 pages before I gave up. Skipping ahead to the end I finally got my answer. SO not worth it.
Read pre GR. This is the book that made me fall in love with Maggie O’Farrell’s writing. Discovered this book while I was in London at Hatchard’s book store. Lucky me, I have an original signed copy.
Have mixed feelings about this debut novel by Maggie O'Farrell. I do like debut novels for a few reasons. It is impossible to know how long the author took to write this book or if it was rejected multiple times and how the author's writing has evolved.
I found this novel hard to get into (a first for a work of O'Farrell's). I started it multiple times in print and then in audio. The story is a shuffle story with no linear time line or plot. Each short glimpse of the story is a few pages and shifts from present day to times in the past. There is no rhyme or reason at first. It is mainly the story of three w0men. Elspeth, the grandmother, Ann, Alice's mother and Alice.
There are four parts in this novel
The Short Prologue--sets up a cliff hanger. In the first pages Alice sees something at the train station which sends her reeling and rushing back on the train to London after just arriving in Edinburgh. Later that she steps off a curb and it hit by a car in a suicide attempt.
Part 1--back and forth in time of the lives of these women. The reader learns some of their early lives and relationships. Interesting but gets one no closer to understanding what might have caused Alice's profound upset. At first I found the names Ann and Alice too close in sound and print for this type of narrative. I often had to go back and make sure who the particular incident was about. NO TIME sequences at all. The story jumped from person to person and times both present and past. Part 2--I finally got use to the narrative format and had enough of the story that I knew both Ann and Alice's plots and was starting to understand the story's arc and development and was hooked. I could not listen fast enough and switched to the print and began to gulp it down in huge sections. It seemed a simple story but I still wanted the answers on how it would turn out. Part 3-last of the four and I was getting a little annoyed. I had my answers and felt this was a add on and not especially needed. I continued you read but really wished the story had ended sooner.
So star wise --Prologue-4 stars Part 1-3 stars Part 2--4.5 stars Part 3-1 star
Leaving me at an average about 3 stars. I will continue to read more of O'Farrell for sure but glad this was not my first as I am not so sure I would have continued on with her later works. My favorite of her's so far is The Marriage Portrait and with close tie with Hamnet.
P.S the audio was very well done by Elle Newlands with a wonderful Scottish accent which lent much to the narration BUT unless you are a concentrated listener I don't recommend it as the story skips around so much that if one's mind wanders at all the string of the stories may get tangled