When his parents die in a house fire, Jonathan Maguire decides to give up his studies at Newcastle University and move back to London to live with his brother. Six years older but with the mind of an eight-year-old, Roger has little understanding of the workings of the social world, but is an expert on the community of insects he breeds in glass-fronted cages in a garden shed. Despite their age difference, the boys were extremely close as children and Jonathan is determined to do the right thing by his brother, but his loyalty comes at a cost. Not only does he give up his degree, but it means separation from his girlfriend, Harriet, a talented flautist much admired by young men. Their marriage, just before Harriet returns to university after the summer break, does little to assuage Jonathan’s suspiciousness and jealousy, especially when she is the only woman in a classical quartet that includes his nemesis, Brendan Harcourt, who has never attempted to hide his attraction to Harriet. With Harriet’s support, and the occasional fiery confrontation, Jonathan seems to be learning to manage his emotions, when Roger reveals witnessing an illicit kiss after a performance by the quartet.
This is the second book I’ve received as part of the Curtis Brown Book Group (the first being Antonia Honeywell’s The Ship, a post-apocalyptic novel that managed to arouse the interest of readers generally averse to the genre) and, published by independent publisher Alma books, one that might not otherwise have come to my attention. I was pleased to find interesting themes that had not had much of an airing in my recent reading: the violence of male jealousy (although not featuring much in my review, Before, During, After is the only novel where I recall this being of significance) and the experience of having a sibling with a learning disability. Regarding the former, my main acquaintance with the emotion comes from Shakespeare’s Othello; regarding the latter, conversations with a friend about her longitudinal research, published in academic papers and in a book, Special Brothers and Sisters, designed to be accessible to the children themselves.
Given the popularity of novels narrated from the point of view of someone with communication or comprehension issues, from The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time to Elizabeth Is Missing, I was curious about the author’s decision to show Roger through the eyes of his brother. Jonathan often comments on the impossibility of understanding what goes on within his brother’s mind, yet I was a little surprised that he rarely acknowledged any envy of his special treatment, nor did he encourage Roger to develop his skills to, for example, make his own simple breakfast. I wondered in the course of my reading whether this were a reflection of my own limited understanding of learning disabilities or, as in my critiques of fictional therapists, that of the author. The surprise and immensely satisfying ending suggested another interpretation: that this was very much down to a blind spot of the narrator himself. So I asked the author about this at our online book group meeting (my question in bold and the author’s reply following immediately after):
I enjoyed how the ending reveals that Jonathan has significantly underestimated Roger’s capacity to understand the tragic events unfolding around him. He also never acknowledges a dark side to their relationship, not even the slightest hint of sibling rivalry as children. Might it be this denial that leads to his sacrificing his own ambitions for the sake of his brother and to his ultimate downfall?
Thanks for this. I always wanted Roger to be an enigma … for us always to suspect that there might be more to him than met the eye. I tried to drop clues as we went through the narrative … but it was always a balance between making him too "knowing" or too naive. I feel gratified that the "surprise" seems to have worked for most readers so far …
To my mind, Jonathan has characteristics of the compulsive carer whose compassion for another comes before compassion for himself, which also came into my discussion with Norah on her compassion blog post.
Since it’s foreshadowed in the prologue, I don’t think I’m giving too much away when I also say that the novel reminds me of a documentary I once watched about research into the decomposition of the human body as well as the Jim Crace novel, Being Dead, neither of which are as gruesome as one might expect.
Stuart Prebble’s debut is a literary suspense novel about obsession, sibling loyalty, male jealousy, the reliability of memory and the enigma of another’s mind – and an innovative take on farming. As with the colony of insects bred by Roger, it’s certainly worth a closer look.
Given the popularity of novels narrated from the point of view of someone with communication or comprehension issues, from The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time to Elizabeth Is Missing, I was curious about the author’s decision to show Roger through the eyes of his brother. Jonathan often comments on the impossibility of understanding what goes on within his brother’s mind, yet I was a little surprised that he rarely acknowledged any envy of his special treatment, nor did he encourage Roger to develop his skills to, for example, make his own simple breakfast. I wondered in the course of my reading whether this were a reflection of my own limited understanding of learning disabilities or, as in my critiques of fictional therapists, that of the author. The surprise and immensely satisfying ending suggested another interpretation: that this was very much down to a blind spot of the narrator himself. So I asked the author about this at our online book group meeting (my question in bold and the author’s reply following immediately after):
I enjoyed how the ending reveals that Jonathan has significantly underestimated Roger’s capacity to understand the tragic events unfolding around him. He also never acknowledges a dark side to their relationship, not even the slightest hint of sibling rivalry as children. Might it be this denial that leads to his sacrificing his own ambitions for the sake of his brother and to his ultimate downfall?
Thanks for this. I always wanted Roger to be an enigma … for us always to suspect that there might be more to him than met the eye. I tried to drop clues as we went through the narrative … but it was always a balance between making him too "knowing" or too naive. I feel gratified that the "surprise" seems to have worked for most readers so far …
To my mind, Jonathan has characteristics of the compulsive carer whose compassion for another comes before compassion for himself, which also came into my discussion with Norah on her compassion blog post.
Since it’s foreshadowed in the prologue, I don’t think I’m giving too much away when I also say that the novel reminds me of a documentary I once watched about research into the decomposition of the human body as well as the Jim Crace novel, Being Dead, neither of which are as gruesome as one might expect.
Stuart Prebble’s debut is a literary suspense novel about obsession, sibling loyalty, male jealousy, the reliability of memory and the enigma of another’s mind – and an innovative take on farming. As with the colony of insects bred by Roger, it’s certainly worth a closer look.
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