Melanie Langdon is a pampered young woman married to an up-and-coming young barrister called Guy. They live in a comfortable reclaimed Regency house in London in the early 1950s. Melanie has recently given birth to a son but is recovering from a bout of tuberculosis, carefully tended by Guy and her doctor, Dr Gregory. As she recovers, Dr Gregory allows her to move from her bedroom to lie on a chaise-longue in the neighbouring room. The chaise-longue is a Victorian piece, vast and ugly save for the Berlin cross-stitch embroidery on its cover. Melanie acquired it in an antiques shop just before her tuberculosis was diagnosed.
Falling asleep, Melanie awakes to find herself still lying on the chaise-longue but trapped in another time – 1864 – in the body of another tuberculosis sufferer, Milly Baines. Milly is tended by her sister, Adelaide, and a maid, Lizzie. Visitors drop by: the Clergyman, Mr Endworthy; the mysterious Gilbert Charters, also a member of the clergy; and Milly’s doctor, Philip Blundell.
It becomes apparent that there is secret hanging over Milly, that she has done something which is regarded by those around her as morally reprehensible. Meanwhile, Melanie tries to work out what has happened to her: maybe it’s a dream; or maybe she has been kidnapped; maybe Mr Entworthy’s prayers will help; maybe God or Fate are subjecting her to some sort of test; or maybe she just needs to convince Dr Blundell to take her somewhere where the air is better. As Melanie’s confusion grows, so does her fear. Is her mind inside Milly’s body or is Milly’s body also Melanie’s body? If Milly dies, what will happen to Melanie…
13 replies on “Persephone Book No. 6: The Victorian Chaise-Longue by Marghanita Laski”
In looking back at the notes I scribbled a couple of months ago, I see that the device of the curate leaving his gloves behind so that he could get a private word with Milly reminded me of Captain Wentworth doing the same with his umbrella in ‘Persuasion’. Also that the ambiguous ending led me to think that Philip Blundell and the doctor had both been Milly’s lovers.
Laski’s depiction of the human struggle with death echoed those of Dickens (Little Paul in ‘Dombey & Son’, Charlotte Bronte (‘Shirley’) and Austin (Marianne Dashwood in ‘Sense and Sensibility’) as a place in which to handle the great metaphysical and philosophical questions we all face at some time or other. And towards the end I remembered a story I read as a child of a little girl falling off a swing and regaining consciousness in a past time, but she came back to her present. Though I think Laski’s tale could have had no such simple ending and still remain effective, I was disappointed that she didn’t live, she didn’t come back.
The success of the book, I felt, was the overwhelming feeling of relentless struggle one remembers when trying to come out of a bad dream that won’t let one wake up. She got that perfect.
This secretive thing, this mystery hanging over Milly reminds me of that elusive mystery in the ice palace by Tarjei Vesaas. As well two girls involved with some difference but also similarities…and it always seems that one cannot live what the other one can live… one is drifting away, nothing is explained, one is leaving to guess. But not even the guessing is important. Although one will never find out what actually was going on except the lostness of the two in the world, cut of from society, due to their peculiarity, illness or mystery, or by ” being morally deviant”. Yet it is an art not to say everything and I suppose it is something in which both Laski and Vesaas succeed extremely well. It seems to me even as if all the unsaid and mysterious is some sort of placeholder for everything that is lost when women are not at their full strength, or are not allowed to live their full strength.
What made this book so frightening to me was how well it evoked that feeling of a nightmare come true — Milly wakes up in a different time and place and there’s no way for her to get back. That would be the scariest part of time travel! To me, that’s scarier than any traditional horror novel.
What always astounds me about Laski is how very different all of her novels are – to me that is the mark of a great novelist – no sense of rehashing a one hit wonder. I found this exceptionally disquieting.
This novel made me feel more than a little unsettled. The feeling of being trapped that Laski conveys so well, is almost unbearable at times. Milly’s suffocation is happening on so many levels and even as one is reading, there is an underlying disquieting feeling that Milly’s future (and past) are already written and it’s not going to be good…
And I do love novels that don’t spell everything out; what one is left to imagine, is often more thought-provoking.
It’s a wonderful and evocative read!
I loved this book and agree with Verity’s comment about how different and wonderful Laski’s books are, having also enjoyed Little Boy Lost.
I have not read this book yet and keenly look forward to doing so…I love the subject matter and the idea…and I also love the fact that she named the book after the very object, that seemingly inanimate piece that this incredible journey all takes place upon… two things that draw me to it, are the fact that I have always believed as well as deeply sensed, that the objects all around us… (me glancing around at all my scruffy vintage treasures, whether found in a junk shop for pennies or an expensive antique) all contain within them memories and soul imprints from the owner or many owners whose lives they were a part of. Like the principals behind Psychometry. Everything is made of the matter of this world and is a part of the soul of the world in my feeling… and the craftsman’s/woman’s hands whom lovingly brought it to life lies within them also. The Chaise-Longue’s becomes a living body of vibrations and energies, memories and the parallel spirals of history itself it seems.
My other instant thought was of the many time-travelling dreams I have had in my life..where I have gone to sleep only to live in another era of history for several months or even years..waking up, exhausted and totally disorientated..not knowing where I am..and feeling a tearing loss of those I have left behind. They are very powerful when I have them and I shall never forget them. This book and it’s premise…reminded me of these experiences and I know, however unsettling it may be, I shall enjoy it I am sure. Laski, the author seems to be very well loved and respected for her style of writing too, so it sounds very promising indeed. Thank you so much for bringing it to my attention, I’m grateful for that, and for your contribution to the wonderful and nourishing world of literature and books. My warmest wishes and kind thoughts to you all at Persephone Books. xx
I did really love this Persephone and thank you for including a link to my review. I really meant the “excellent” bit…
I just wanted to say a quick word about the use of furniture in the novella as you have interestingly brought this out in the forum. My own reading was that the furniture was very much used as a symbol of repression and a lack of freedom. An awful lot of home decoration from the 1930s onwards, and certainly in the 1950s when this book was written was focussed on shaking off the heavy musky influence of the Victorians and Edwardians in the home. It was regarded as being part of modernity – a sort of liberating of the living room to reflect the liberating of the individual. So I saw the use of the chaise longue and the other furniture references in that context. I think that it is heavily historical – as I said in my blog – very much a period piece.
Thanks for sharing another thoughtful forum post.
Hannah
http://hannahstoneham.blogspot.com/2010/07/little-odd-excellent-victorian-chaise.html
Now there’s an interesting field for further reading, Hannah -the use of furniture as metaphor. I know that some of the Victorian writers did quite a bit of ‘commodification’ in their works, as they were writing during times of great change and discovery on the domestic scene and in the wider world.
I was also reminded of ‘Charlotte Sometimes’, though that’s not the story of the child falling from the swing that first came to mind.
I, too, like old things because of their patina of having belonged to someone else, having been handled and admired (or not) on other people’s shelves and walls.
A Latvian friend of mine believed that living spaces held the energy of those who had lived in them before. She once had to move out of an apartment when she lived in America becase she kept experiencing flashes of red in the corner of her eye – and later discovered that a murder had occured (in 2 rooms and a connecting corridor) after a love triangle between husband, wife, and wife’s sister! I am truly grateful that I have no such awareness or susceptibility.
I third Verity’s comment about the versatility of Laski’s writing. It was an exceptionally disconcerting (rather than overtly frightening) novella because it taps into that insecure fear of having everyone against you/disbelieving you and being “trapped” by your reputation and who people believe you to be. Not my favourite Laski but has much to offer and discover upon rereading, which can easily be done on a rainy Autumnal afternoon.
I thought it had much in common with The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman and shared its overwhelming sense of claustrophobia.
I remember feeling most concerned about Melanie’s physical weakness in Milly’s body. Of all the ways Melanie was trapped – in time, confusion, Victorian convention – her inability to sit up, leave the room, actively confront those around her – that’s what disturbed me the most. Powerful writing.
I’m with Karen – I also found this frightening – just as if I was dreaming and couldn’t wake up from the nightmare it had become. All too realistic, even whilst telling myself there’s no such thing as time-travel. But, not wanting to read it again, I gave the book to a friend. (Must ask her what she thought of it!) Claustrophobic, oppressive and compelling – yes, all those. ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ had much the same effect on me, really chilling and infuriated with the husband/doctors.
The chaise-longue was used, most effectively, I used to think they were rather desirable – but not now! Much as we enjoy the old items of furniture we’ve collected, (tables, bookcases etc) I don’t dwell on their past use, simply enjoy them for what they are, useful and decorative in the William Morris tradition. As to a message, I suppose you can read one into anything if you’re minded that way.
I’ve not read many of Laski’s books, though I’m considering ordering ‘The Village’ – clearly from the comments about her other books, that will be completely different so I should be safe!.
Well, I did buy a lovely, little old edition of the book, and read most of it. I didn’t find it particularly compelling.
Yes, Laski did a marvelous job with both characters, and the second is certainly inventive.
Just haven’t had the urge to pull it out again. Maybe someday …
Enjoyed everyone’s comments, tho’, and loved the accompanying photo!
D. Ellis