Clara and Christina by Andrew Cunning: A literary treat

Andrew Cunning’s debut, Clara and Christina, instantly appealed with its premise of a friendship which grows between a young academic and the author whose first novel entranced her, picked up by chance at her university bookshop when she was a first-year undergraduate. Clara is in her early thirties and Christina in her seventies, a reclusive novelist who has, surprisingly, agreed to be interviewed for Clara’s monograph.

There was a unique and intimidating mix of Vogue and the principal’s office about her, a sort of tight -lipped glamour that Clara now knew was always on the edge of being broken by a proper laugh.

Christina and Clara meet at a coffee shop not far from Christina’s house one Sunday morning. Clara’s thrilled and a little nervous. Christina’s her literary idol, the author of four novels and one book of essays which formed the basis of her doctoral thesis. Conversation flows well, Christina emphatically decrying the idea of memoir and identity so popular with a contemporary audience, insisting the work should stand for itself. Clara’s belief that Christina’s writing has opened the doors for her to a wide and far-ranging set of ideas is borne out by their discussions setting a pattern for the next few months in which Christina’s discursive replies to Clara’s questions rarely answer them. One Sunday, Christina asks Clara if she will help her move her library, inviting her into her home where they enjoy an evening which seals their friendship. By the time Clara’s monograph is published to great acclaim, she’s moved to Iowa where she’s received an effusive welcome from her new colleagues, a world away from the Belfast council estate where she was raised.

It was a pattern that repeated itself every few years in the literary world, Clara noted.  A woman could write an excellent novel, a prize-winner perhaps. But she would have to be prepared for her second or, if she was lucky, her third book to be criticised and maligned.  

Full of philosophical and literary allusions, Clara’s discussions with Christina lead her to re-examine much of her thinking about literature. We learn little about Christina’s life but that’s the point: instead, we have extracts from her work peppered through the novel. We see the friendship from Clara’s perspective, her work as an academic, her relationships with her partner and her mother providing a backdrop. She’s a smartly drawn character, her restrained impatience with students unable to look far outside their own world nicely done. There’s a particularly enjoyable seminar scene in which a student brings up the trope of the ‘sad Irish girl’ instantly recognisable to contemporary fiction readers. Publishing also comes in for some gentle satire with its seeming inability to look beyond the latest big book together with its emphasis on writers as entertainers. I loved this quiet literary treat of a novel which came out of Cunning’s own work on Marilynne Robinson who allowed him a rare interview. Looking forward to his next one.

John Murray Press: London 9781399830218 256 pages Hardback (NetGalley)