I’d not come across Stephanie Sy-Quia before a proof of A Private Man turned up. She’s an award-wining poet which predisposed me towards reading it. Like many debut novelists, Sy-Quia draws on her family history and, as the granddaughter of a Catholic priest, hers is a fascinating one. A Private Man tells the story of David and Margaret who meet in the early 1960s when she takes up a post as the first female theology teacher in his Midlands parish.
I want to talk to you. For the rest of my days.
David is the son of a Catholic family, his parents proud congregants at the ceremony to ordain their son in Rome. He’s posted to a parish not far from where he grew up, settling into the routines and ceremonies of priestly life, unquestioning of its strictures until Margaret arrives. A student of art history at Oxford, Margaret converted to Catholicism, studying at the Rome’s first female theological college. This is the time of the Second Vatican Council: hopes are high that women may finally be given a place in the Church, that dissent will be listened to not condemned by an old order whose bitterness manifests itself in revenge. David and Margaret work together in his well-appointed home, sharing suppers and a drink leading to debates in which Margaret’s fierce intelligence unsettles David’s complacent faith, catching the eyes of gossips and superiors. As their attraction grows and David’s radicalism becomes more open, they’re faced with a dilemma. Decades later, Adrian cares for his grandmother as her mind unravels, putting together the jigsaw of his grandparents’ story.
His grandmother was walking the perimeter of her life, running her hands along it, looking for the exit, the secret, sprung panel which would open and release her, and he was powerless to assist her.
Straddling two timelines, Sy-Quia’s novel unfolds the often poignant story of David and Margaret as Adrian cares for his grandmother in her French home, painting a portrait of the Catholic Church at a particular time in its history. David and Margaret’s relationship is hedged about with reproach and regret, yet it is an enduring and loving one which lasted to the end of his life, portrayed with a thoughtful, perception by Sy-Quia, often punctuated with lyrical descriptive writing. The passages in Rome are particularly striking, not least David’s joyful celebration of Italian food and sensuality. Her descriptions of Margaret’s decline are unflinching: the sadness of what she becomes, what we all may become, in stark contrast to the fearless, brilliant woman she had been. An impressive first novel, not one I’d likely have read had it not been sent to me, it made me wonder about other David and Margarets and what they might have gone through.
Picador Books: London 9781035052615 288 pages Hardback (Read via NetGalley)
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This sounds rather engaging. Adding to my list to look out for.
I might have overlooked this one but it’s so good I included it on my Women’s Prize for Fiction wish list.
I once knew someoe who was conducting an affair with a Catholic priest. She was (we were!) still young, and she made it sound exciting, climbing through windows at dead of night so nobody would know what was going on. But it all got much more complicated and darker than that. So this book’s ordered from the library forthwith.
Blimey! Not a recipe for happiness for either of them, I’m sure.
I lost touch, so I never knew how the story panned out.
This sounds really thoughtful Susan.
Well worth reading, Cathy, if heart wrenching at times.
You’ve piqued my interest!
I thought this one would work for you.
This sounds very interesting. Especially as religion and love are both driving forces in the thing I’m working on now. Thanks for reviewing it.
You’re welcome, Christine. I’m sure many versions of this story have played out over the centuries.
What a striking cover!
It fits the novel well!
Sounds like a robust and sensitive story. I find poets bring a certain level of lyricism to their fiction writing. Many of these types of real life stories in Catholic Ireland.
They do, indeed, and are often more concise which I prefer. It did make me think about the many David and Margarets there must be all over the world.
I love that quote about walking the perimeters. It’s made it a must-read for me!
It’s such a delicate, heartrending description, isn’t it.