Ms. Binchy died on July 30, I believe, and of course, I was very sad. Selfishly, I minded that I would not be able to read any more of her books (except for Minding Frankie and one or two others I hadn't gotten around to reading yet - Quentin's, I think). I also mind knowing that now that she has passed, her work will likely be quickly forgotten.
In a way, it is what it is and can't be helped: part of what made her work exciting to me was the casual but profound way in which her fiction reflected some of the enormous social change going on in Ireland over the last 4 or 5 decades. The very timeliness and currency of her books mean that in ten years they may seem very dated.
It will not seem shocking but quaint to read a woman's dilemma when her shiftless, alcoholic husband who had deserted her years before appears on her doorstep and asks her to care for him in his final illness. Social convention in the past would have robbed her of her choice; if shame didn't compel to take her wayward husband in, her priest would. Today, women have choices but that doesn't mean that they're easy to make.
Maeve Binchy's cheerful grasp as a storyteller was pretty darn big - full of chiches, melodrama, self-help bromides, and breathless run-on sentences that captured the flavor of conversation. But her books created joy: her stories made you laugh and cry and you consumed them at a breakneck speed, dying to know what was going to happen.
While some novels, like Tara Road, had an ending that was entirely too neat, other novels like Glass Lake, Circle of Friends, and Scarlet Feather had elements that reflected the complexity and complication of real life.
I noticed one reviewer mentioned that Glass Lake and Evening Class were her favorite novels; they were mine, also. In Glass Lake, it seemed to me that she took on her most audacious question: is there ever a time when a mother may be forgiven for abandoning her child? I think the ending was hard for her and I would have preferred a stronger one but it was bold and brave to write that novel.
I can't really tell you why I loved Evening Class. Perhaps it was merely that while I have taken many evening classes that did not result in friendship or friendships, the nourishment these friends take from each other is nourishing, cozy and completely wish-fulfilling. Is that wrong? Can it be wrong?
I recall that the heroine of Scarlet Feather was married to the master's son; her mother was that family's longtime housekeeper. Her resentment of her mother's status and treatment was so greatly present in her mind that I could not wonder if that, as well as her career (and her husband's) contributed to the breakup of that marriage. I've always wondered what Binchy was saying there: Was she saying that we should not marry outside of our class? (Surely not!) Was she simply creating a good story, knowing that many of her readers would identify with the heroine's nose-pressed-against-the-glass feeling? I wonder. This character was strong, independent, hard-working, ambitious and truly competent. Perhaps this little unresolved complexity was another intriguing element of Binchy's work.
I loved reading her books, I greatly admired her combination of gratifying plots and profound reflection on women's choices, I will miss her and someday I hope I'll write something that was inspired by her.
In a way, it is what it is and can't be helped: part of what made her work exciting to me was the casual but profound way in which her fiction reflected some of the enormous social change going on in Ireland over the last 4 or 5 decades. The very timeliness and currency of her books mean that in ten years they may seem very dated.
It will not seem shocking but quaint to read a woman's dilemma when her shiftless, alcoholic husband who had deserted her years before appears on her doorstep and asks her to care for him in his final illness. Social convention in the past would have robbed her of her choice; if shame didn't compel to take her wayward husband in, her priest would. Today, women have choices but that doesn't mean that they're easy to make.
Maeve Binchy's cheerful grasp as a storyteller was pretty darn big - full of chiches, melodrama, self-help bromides, and breathless run-on sentences that captured the flavor of conversation. But her books created joy: her stories made you laugh and cry and you consumed them at a breakneck speed, dying to know what was going to happen.
While some novels, like Tara Road, had an ending that was entirely too neat, other novels like Glass Lake, Circle of Friends, and Scarlet Feather had elements that reflected the complexity and complication of real life.
I noticed one reviewer mentioned that Glass Lake and Evening Class were her favorite novels; they were mine, also. In Glass Lake, it seemed to me that she took on her most audacious question: is there ever a time when a mother may be forgiven for abandoning her child? I think the ending was hard for her and I would have preferred a stronger one but it was bold and brave to write that novel.
I can't really tell you why I loved Evening Class. Perhaps it was merely that while I have taken many evening classes that did not result in friendship or friendships, the nourishment these friends take from each other is nourishing, cozy and completely wish-fulfilling. Is that wrong? Can it be wrong?
I recall that the heroine of Scarlet Feather was married to the master's son; her mother was that family's longtime housekeeper. Her resentment of her mother's status and treatment was so greatly present in her mind that I could not wonder if that, as well as her career (and her husband's) contributed to the breakup of that marriage. I've always wondered what Binchy was saying there: Was she saying that we should not marry outside of our class? (Surely not!) Was she simply creating a good story, knowing that many of her readers would identify with the heroine's nose-pressed-against-the-glass feeling? I wonder. This character was strong, independent, hard-working, ambitious and truly competent. Perhaps this little unresolved complexity was another intriguing element of Binchy's work.
I loved reading her books, I greatly admired her combination of gratifying plots and profound reflection on women's choices, I will miss her and someday I hope I'll write something that was inspired by her.
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