The Children’s Book

children's bookFairly early on in A.S. Byatt’s The Children’s Book, Olive and Humphry Wellwood throw a huge, Bohemian costume-party, patterned after A Midsummer Night’s Dream. They are friends with all sorts of people: artists and artisans, Fabians and fabulists, socialists and socialites, and of course there are children flitting about the garden everywhere. As one person after another arrived at the party, I thought to myself, “I wonder how many of these people I’ll be expected to remember?” And then I thought, “This book’s nearly 800 pages long. Probably all of them.”

I wasn’t wrong. Every single person at that party showed up again, as a character of importance. In The Children’s Book, Byatt has created a historical novel with dozens of characters, all set during the dizzying, dazzling post-Victorian, pre-war time that gave us the Art Deco and Arts and Crafts movements, the suffragist and Fabian and communist movements for social justice and equality, books that looked to the future and others that leaned nostalgically toward childhood, and the stirrings of revolution. It ought to be a confusing book. It’s packed full, absolutely full; Byatt is constantly giving us literary and social history, when she’s not showing us her characters living in that history. But somehow I didn’t wind up confused. Instead, I was deeply engaged, and found myself wanting (even?) more.

The Wellwoods, of the garden-party, are, I suppose, the emotional center of the book, if anyone is. Olive is an author of children’s fiction, and she also keeps a long-running private story for each child. Humphry quits his bank job early on to be a journalist and speaker, so Olive is the main breadwinner for the family. (Gender roles are a major theme — Dorothy, one of Humphry and Olive’s children, wants to become a doctor, and her determined trajectory is one of the most engaging in the book.)

Olive’s work as a creator, and particularly the idea that she sustains the house and family — perhaps literally sustains them in existence — by writing, is one of the more interesting parts of the novel. What would happen if she stopped writing, or betrayed the story in another way? We actually do get a chance to find out. This theme is echoed by the recurrence of puppets and marionettes in the novel. The creator may pull the strings — or think she does — but it’s the character who has the life on stage, and may, in the end, run away with the author.

There are many, many other artists and creators in the book, owing to the circles in which the Wellwoods move. Benedict Fludd, a bipolar genius ceramicist, has nearly destroyed his family by the time Philip arrives, determined to be his apprentice. (the destruction is more than just financial.) There are puppeteers, producers and directors of plays, jewelers, silversmiths, embroiderers. No woodworkers; that surprised me, given the vital importance of furniture to the Arts and Crafts movement, but I suppose Byatt couldn’t do everything. Everyone is also politically involved: radical communists, suffragists, workers for better human conditions in one way or another. Art and life go hand in hand. Of course, not everyone wants to be an artist. Geraint Fludd (how does one pronounce Geraint?), Benedict’s son, would do anything to escape that life; he wants to be a banker, and have money, and lead an ordinary well-off life. Dorothy wants to be a doctor; she, too, is tired of make-believe. It’s no mistake that Byatt refers regularly to Peter Pan, who was written just at this time, and appealed to just these people, and who never wanted to grow up: Byatt’s adult characters begin as innocents, but their choices are adult choices, with consequences they often don’t want to take.

The men don’t come off very well in this book. While it’s not universal, I’d say that far more of the men in The Children’s Book are weak, womanizing, selfish, or clueless than the women are. The women tend to be intelligent, ambitious, sensible, and direct — even if not selfless, which I certainly don’t require. I wondered about this: if Byatt was making a point about social structure, it worked. Certainly class functions in the same way in the book as gender does: Philip, who comes from the working class, takes nothing for granted, and is ambitious and direct in some of the precise ways Dorothy is when she is seeking her degree in medicine. (Yet he’s willing enough to see his sister remain a servant.) In a book in which so many people are working for reform and equality, it’s interesting to see how unpleasant and entitled many of the wealthy and patriarchal people are. Principles are one thing, but…!

There’s a long and heartbreaking story line about one of the Wellwood children, Tom, which is linked to Olive’s writing about him, and her story, “Tom Underground.” He has a terrible and damaging experience at prep school, and he’s never quite able to find himself afterward; his fate is painful and dark. But I was never able to connect with Tom as a character, because Byatt paints him as unable to connect with anyone at all, including himself. He has no interiority, no responsibility, no sense of what he wants. He avoids all thought, and tries to be completely physical. While I pitied him, I couldn’t touch him. And you know, I puzzled over this, but it comes to me just now, writing this, that perhaps that was Byatt’s aim: when you lose your shadow, you have no weight in the world, even with yourself.

There are dozens of references to pieces of art and literature in this novel: fairy tales, The Wind in the Willows, paintings, even buildings. Perhaps someone one day will put up a website, annotating this book, with pictures of all the works of art, and pictures from the Exposition Universelle at Paris, to which some of the characters travel.

I loved this book. It was dense and brilliantly detailed, sprawling, intricately crafted, very much like a piece of art from that period. It was intensely enjoyable reading, satisfying in every way. This was the first of the books I read for this year’s Book Swap, suggested by Teresa, and I couldn’t be more pleased.

This entry was posted in Fiction, Historical Fiction. Bookmark the permalink.

20 Responses to The Children’s Book

  1. vanbraman says:

    I have this on my radar as it is a 1001 book. Your review has me moving it up my list of next books to read.

    • Jenny says:

      I know it’s gotten mixed reviews, but I really thought it was hugely enjoyable and satisfying. There were certain parts of the story (I could not possibly mention them all) that I just loved, and others I found less satisfying, but over all I loved it. And the description, which some people found tiresome, was one of my favorite parts.

  2. vicki (skiourophile / bibliolathas) says:

    I found this a bit hard-going (long), but the arts and crafts elements were wonderfully captured. Your idea of an interactive version is *brilliant* – that would be gorgeous.

    • Jenny says:

      Right? That was a brainstorm. :) I loved the arts and crafts parts, especially the description of art that doesn’t actually exist — one of my favorite parts of any book about art. It’s one of my favorite eras of art anyway, so I really dug deep into it, honestly.

  3. Jeanne says:

    I listened to this as an audiobook, and so heard the names before trying to read them. The reader said the Fludd name as “Gere-ent” but online dictionaries pronounce the last part as “aint.”

  4. I too loved this book, and feel that it is one of those books that one can easily find oneself reading again and again. Most A. S. Byatt “kingdoms” are like that. (I wrote a post on this book which appeared on another website, and then I downloaded it to my Archives on my WordPress.com account when I switched. I’m so glad to see someone else reviewing it too, because it’s a book that needs to be called to people’s attention as much as possible. I really believe this book in particular will prove to be one of the masterpieces of this century, hands down!).

    • Jenny says:

      I read it with such pleasure in the era itself (an era I find artistically so interesting) and with the memory always in the back of my mind that World War I was approaching. Much of my own work is about wartime France, World War I and II, so to see the shadow of it coming was fascinating here. I agree that this book was so well done.

  5. Dying to read this one — I have it on my ‘classics’ TBR for the Classics Club — perhaps a stretch, but I think it will likely be seen as one of Byatt’s classics. Anyway, so eager to dig in — hopefully this autumn!

  6. I love dense and sprawling books. I already own this one and am looking forward to reading it.

    • Jenny says:

      This one is certainly both dense and sprawling! I know it got mixed reviews on that account; some people found it digressive and too thin on plot. But I loved it.

  7. Helen says:

    I read this book a couple of years ago and I loved it too – there were so many different layers to the story. I was interested to read your thoughts about Tom and his shadow as I also found him a difficult character to connect with despite his storyline being so heartbreaking.

    • Jenny says:

      I’ve talked myself into believing that was on purpose, Helen. I think he couldn’t connect with himself, either, and so we can’t. And perhaps if we’re honest, this would be the case with Peter Pan as well.

  8. Jenny says:

    >>>I thought to myself, “I wonder how many of these people I’ll be expected to remember?” And then I thought, “This book’s nearly 800 pages long. Probably all of them.”

    Ahahahahah, this made me laugh so much. I feel this way every time I start one of those books with tons of characters. I felt this way with a much smaller cast of characters in the first few chapters of Ada, or Ardor. And almost gave up. Because I’m lame. :P

    • Jenny says:

      You’re not lame! Those first few chapters of Ada are, I think, deliberately confusing. I thought I must be stupider than usual not to get it at all. But Ada settles down. This one does, too: it doesn’t introduce (many) new characters after the first ten chapters or so. :)

  9. Kristen M. says:

    Okay, I pledge to make this a summer read when I’ll have time to pay attention and keep track of characters. It’s on my top TBR shelf but it’s been there for a while. I’m sure I will love it though!

    • Jenny says:

      It was on my TBR list for ages, too, ever since it came out! It took Teresa’s nudge to put it over the top, and I’m so glad she did.

  10. I wanted to like this book more than I did. I do like AS Byatt in general, but felt a bit frustrated by The Children’s Book. I came away feeling I was not intelligent enough (which may entirely be the case) to fully understand the references, metaphors, symbolism…etc. I read plenty of great, literary fiction and I don’t usually come away feeling a thick-o! Just not my favorite, although there are some wonderful bits – like the Midsummer Night’s Dream party at the beginning.

    • Jenny says:

      I think it would help to have some idea of what the art of the period looks like, but for the most part I’m sure you got most of the references and symbolism. There’s a lot there (the marionettes, the embedded children’s stories, the fairy tales, and so forth) but I don’t think it would have been beyond your grasp. I agree that the party was wonderful!

Leave your comment here, and feel free to respond to others' comments. We enjoy a lively conversation!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s