Milkman by Anna Burns

 

Catching up with the Bookers has been long overdue, mainly as a result of waiting for them to become available from the library, all the more difficult given the events since 2020 and the Covid pandemic. I took the opportunity to dive into my own bookshelves and re-read some books especially during lockdown, something I rarely do as I feel as though there are so many new books out there waiting to be read and explored.

What I’ve particularly enjoyed about these last few books, is reading stories from women’s (and non-gender conforming, may there be more!) perspectives. With ‘Milkman’ comes an immersive and often oppressive depiction of living as a young woman in Northern Ireland during the 1970s. Once again, the style of the writing is particularly distinctive and effective at creating an intense experience, with stream of consciousness taken to an extreme. Analysing the style of writing, reminds me of school during English Literature lessons where we were taught to attempt to interpret particular words or choices made by the writer – I would sometimes get frustrated with the nebulous nature of the reflections and think, well maybe that’s just how it ended up, no great intention, just how the words fell on the page! And I still think that might be the case sometimes. But in books like ‘Milkman’ and often with the Bookers, I find myself sensing an atmosphere while reading, not through the narrative being described necessarily but through the stylistic choices of the writer. Where initially I was surprised by the lack of paragraphs and chapter breaks, I came to see that this was purposeful; where the character didn’t get a break from her inner thoughts, feelings and presence of the overbearing community around her, neither did the reader. The ever watching eyes of judgement and control from the collective and especially male gaze, reinforced and policed by the female grapevine was reflected in the structure of the book.

Where interconnectedness was celebrated in ‘Girl, Woman, Other’, Anna Burns emphasises the claustrophobia of a close-knit society, with the drama of the story coming from the setting during the Troubles in Northern Ireland and gossip. The power of hearsay generates the narrative of the novel, with truth not seeming to matter and judgements with serious consequences and punishments being metered out on the basis of rumour. Distrust is ingrained into all the characters leading to conformity to ensure safety and protection from any vulnerabilities that would arise from authenticity or individuality or going outside of bounds. Although the novel is embedded in the setting of Northern Ireland, it has an element of universality in terms of who is believed in cases of sexual harassment and how a young woman’s life is curtailed by the decisions and behaviour of a man. Burns brilliantly builds the elements of fear and control, ratcheting the destructive effect of this stranger on the protagonist’s life and the resultant powerlessness that is so sinister because it’s so realistic and pervasive.

I really appreciated the approach taken by the writer to construct this window into a young woman’s experience and take some bold decisions in terms of the structure and not naming any of the characters – suggesting that their actual names were unimportant; just their role and relationship to the other characters, emphasising the lack of individuality enjoyed by any of them. I felt that the story lost it’s way right at the end when exploring the mother’s experience, which was interesting but less engaging, as it lacked the immediacy and impact of the rest of the writing. But still, this comes highly recommended and I look forward to more diversity of perspectives in future books, as looking back over the years of the Booker there has been a dominance of male writers and so more balance would be welcome.

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo

 

I’ve already mentioned that this novel by Bernadine Evaristo was a joint winner with ‘The Testaments’ by Margaret Atwood, and this highlighted to me how difficult it must be to pick a winner from the Shortlisted books because to have got to that stage means that each book is of particularly good quality. I think that’s what I love most about reading the Bookers is the opportunity to read such brilliant books that are exceptional, and that have the ability to enlighten and enhance my life.

I started by listening to this book in audio format, but managed to get hold of a physical copy from the library and so switched to that. And as a result I realised that audiobooks don’t always capture all there is to a book as in the case of ‘Girl, Woman, Other’ which is written in an unconventional format without usual punctuation, paragraphs and other constraints of conventional prose. Nearly each chapter is written from the perspective of a different person; mainly women, mainly black and from different generations. I loved how the characters intersected and the time shifts allowed for a great depth of story-telling, through diversity rather than a deep dive into one protagonist’s perspective. It felt so refreshing, especially with the form of the writing, with a clarity similar to poetry in its conciseness and edited insights.

The different perspectives in turn each gave layers of revelation and explored different avenues about characters that challenged the views represented by another character’s perspective. This gave such a richness to the lives represented and reinforced how we’re only ever seeing our own version of events and people. I particularly liked the diversity represented in the characters, all kinds of women including someone who identified as non-binary. I didn’t realise how much my Booker reading experience was missing out on this breadth of expression.

Inherent in this style of writing, was sometimes a sense of wanting to stay longer in a particular character’s world, or come back to it, like in ‘The Testaments’ when the story rotated through three characters. But being left with a sense of wanting more was somehow appropriate within the writing style; succinct and purposeful writing with a clarity that could have got lost in a more wordy format. Each chapter was a brief interlude from one’s own life and experience, dipping into an incomplete representation of another person’s life, and it was a joy to read.

The Testaments by Margaret Atwood

This book signified a first for this blog and my Booker reading experience; I listened to it as an audiobook. And it is only the second time a joint winner of the Booker was awarded (the previous time was in 1974 when the prize was shared between Nadine Gordimer ‘The Conservationist’ and Stanley Middleton ‘Holiday’). ‘The Testaments’ shared the 2019 prize with Bernadine Evaristo ‘Girl, Woman, Other’. More on that later.

Prior to listening to this book I listened to ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ to which ‘The Testaments’ is a sequel. I think it was definitely a prerequisite, as without the first book, which introduces the characters and describes the dystopian world of Gilead, the sequel would not have made much sense. Which reminds me, I still need to go back and do the same for Pat Barker’s Regeneration Trilogy, having only read the final installment ‘The Ghost Road’ which won the Booker in 1995. And less enthusiastically, I should probably read the final book in Hilary Mantel’s trilogy ‘The Mirror and the Light’, but definitely won’t be completing the trilogy that starts with ‘The Famished Road’ by Ben Okri.

The audiobook of ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ was read by Elizabeth Olsen, who plays Offred in the television series that has been developed and ‘The Testaments’ audiobook was also read by a actor from the TV show, Ann Dowd and two others. I hadn’t watched any of the television show, but was vaguely aware of some of the aesthetics from trailers and so this informed my imagination as I listened, especially with the voices of the actors. I think this supported the already thorough and expansive descriptions by Margaret Atwood; to convey a complete and absorbing alternative reality, that swept me up and engaged me through both books.

Listening to an audiobook is definitely a different experience of ‘reading’ and one that doesn’t come naturally to me, despite it often being easier to listen to something rather than physically read when my chronic illness flares up and I have limited energy. Some books work better than others, as I will discuss in a later review, but the narrative drive of ‘The Testaments’ meant that it was just as good as reading it for myself. It’s difficult not to review both books really as they are equally good and are integral to each other. I can see why ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ left readers and fans wanting more, although they had to wait 33 years! Atwood is so clever to use the extreme setting of Gilead to describe conditions that shock, repel and outrage readers, leading to condemnation of these ‘fictional’ circumstances which then expertly forces readers to reflect on real-life occurrences.

It is interesting to see Margaret Atwood win the Booker for a second time (only J.M. Coetzee and Hilary Mantel have also managed this feat) and I wonder whether this fed into the decision to award joint winners. The two winners are very different in their approach although both are incredibly ambitious in the scope of their writing in distinct ways. ‘The Testaments’ has fewer protagonists who explain the extensive altered reality to the reader, while ‘Girl, Woman, Other’ has breadth and depth through the number and diversity of perspectives but is based in the real world – although as the multi-perspective approach highlights – this world is experienced differently and explores multiple truths. But actually it’s not totally necessary to compare and contrast the two books just because they were joint winners, they both deserve to be considered in their own right.

‘The Testaments’ builds a convincing situation for the story and depicts each of the characters so well, leading to a huge investment in their plights. There is intrigue and deception and an underlying sense of unease that pervades the whole novel, underpinned and overseen by the hugely sinister system. The complicated nature of good and bad is explored especially in regards to the Aunt Lydia character and also how, to survive, some people will carry out atrocities. There is also examination of what it means to grow up unthinkingly within such oppressive systems and what it takes to recognise and challenge authority given those conditions.

It has so much to trigger in terms of reflections about surveillance, patriarchal systems, power and dominance, what outside forces can do to help, societal control, ideologies and resistance. And overall Gilead is horrifying because it’s so extreme and yet especially because it has so many parallels to aspects of life now. And it’s all the cleverer to wrap up all these ethical, moral and philosophical questions in a well-written and well-paced plot. I came away from listening with huge respect for what Atwood has created and for its cultural reach, as often, these almost covert attempts to highlight crucial issues in our own society, can be the most powerful as they can trigger debate on a broader scale. As ever, reading (or listening!) and then with cross-overs to TV or film, has the ability to increase empathy by immersing people in the experience of another, those who may or may not have thought about such issues before, which will hopefully raise critical and compassionate thinking and action and have positive effects in the world.