I've been dipping into, in a non-linear way, Elizabeth Bowen's Eva Trout.
I can't quite get a fix on these characters - are they nice? They seem so prickly. No one seems to like each other - And really, who is Eva? Is she unfeeling because she's surrounded by odd, careless, and unconventional people?
I've read another Elizabeth Bowen novel, The Death of the Heart, and Eva Trout reminds me of it in some ways. If you go to her Wikipedia entry, you'll find that that author finds Bowen's work to be frequently concerned with the difference between appearances and the underlying, behind-closed-doors reality.
I think that I don't understand Eva Trout and perhaps, without starting the book at the beginning, reading it all the way to the end, and not leaving anything out, I never shall. Above all, I find it elegaic if the grievers were distracted by traffic and a bad odor coming from an unknown source.
My Modern British Literature professor told me once that he had seen Elizabeth Bowen read (probably at Columbia, where he was a student). He said that she had a terrible stutter. "Poor Elizabeth Bowen," he said.
For the first time I have learned that Elizabeth Bowen struggled mightily to make enough money from writing and giving readings to avoid having to sell her father's house. To me, this is quite a gripping story. Was it pride that caused her to do everything she could to avoid selling? Or was it loyalty to him? How I long to know. To me, it's quite as thrilling as the Olympics.
I've read another Elizabeth Bowen novel, The Death of the Heart, and Eva Trout reminds me of it in some ways. If you go to her Wikipedia entry, you'll find that that author finds Bowen's work to be frequently concerned with the difference between appearances and the underlying, behind-closed-doors reality.
I think that I don't understand Eva Trout and perhaps, without starting the book at the beginning, reading it all the way to the end, and not leaving anything out, I never shall. Above all, I find it elegaic if the grievers were distracted by traffic and a bad odor coming from an unknown source.
My Modern British Literature professor told me once that he had seen Elizabeth Bowen read (probably at Columbia, where he was a student). He said that she had a terrible stutter. "Poor Elizabeth Bowen," he said.
For the first time I have learned that Elizabeth Bowen struggled mightily to make enough money from writing and giving readings to avoid having to sell her father's house. To me, this is quite a gripping story. Was it pride that caused her to do everything she could to avoid selling? Or was it loyalty to him? How I long to know. To me, it's quite as thrilling as the Olympics.
