Tag Archives: Antonia Lloyd-Jones

The House with the Stained-glass Window by Żanna Słoniowska (transl. Antonia Lloyd-Jones): A tale of three cities

Cover imageŻanna Słoniowska’s novel is set in the Ukrainian city of Lviv, known as Lwów when it was part of Poland after the dissolution of Austria-Hungary, then Lvov when it was in Soviet hands from the end of the Second World War until 1991. The House with the Stained-Glass Window tells the story of this fractured, fractious, beautiful place through the lives of four generations of women whose history mirrors that of the city.

Marianna is a mezzo-soprano with a voice so evocative that it summons up the very spirit of his country for Mykola, the set designer at the Lviv Opera. She’s the child of Aba who arrived in the city from Leningrad shortly after the war, her artistic ambitions thwarted by the tyrannical Great-Granma whose hysterics frequently rock the house. Marianna has a daughter who guides us through the history of these four generations. Great-Granma has seemingly never got over the abduction of her husband in 1937, taken for interrogation and never returned. Having fallen out with both Aba and Marianna, she’s taken to her room. In 1988, shortly before the fall of the Soviet Union, Marianna is shot by a sniper while singing at a nationalist march, swiftly becoming the poster girl for the independence movement. Aba steps in to raise her young daughter who will navigate her own way through the thorny pathways of both her family’s history and that of her city, helped by Mykola who was both her mother’s lover and the chronicler of Lviv’s unofficial history. That will have to stand as a synopsis for this novel although it’s a good deal more complicated than that.

Mariana’s daughter unfolds the story of this family who live on the first floor of a house whose stained-glass window encapsulates Lviv’s history. She’s a lively narrator – wildly imaginative and very funny at times – open to Mykola’s history lessons, the last of which is a tour of Lviv telling the stories that some of its inhabitants might prefer untold. Stuffed with lovingly vivid descriptions of the city, Słoniowska’s novel has a framework which works well although the occasional abrupt switches from one timeline to another can be disconcerting. You’ll need to have your wits about you to keep track – Antonia Lloyd-Jones’ brief chronology and explanatory note which preface the book come in very handy for that. It’s a novel that worked for me but it’s a little niche. If you’re not interested in Central Europe and its history, I suspect it’s not one for you.

If you don’t hear from me on Friday I’ll be in Budapest, a little closer to Lviv than I am now. H is in the midst of an Aged P crisis which may mean I’m still here in Bath. We’ll see. The odds are currently in our favour…

Books to Look Out for in September 2017

Cover imageSeptember’s preview starts with Jenny Erpenbeck’s Go Went Gone, a book I’ve been hoping to see in translation since MarinaSofia over at Finding Time to Write mentioned it earlier in the year. In it Erpenbeck explores the opening of Germany’s borders to refugees and the effects of their arrival on German society through Richard, an academic who lives in Berlin. The novel is ‘a passionate contribution to the debate on race, privilege and nationality and a beautifully written examination of an ageing man’s quest to find meaning in his life’ according to the publishers. I very much enjoyed Erpenbeck’s The End of Days which told the story of the Eastern European twentieth century through a woman whose fate is constantly reimagined rather in the way that Kate Atkinson does with Ursula Todd in Life After Life.

Not so very far away, Żanna Słoniowska’s The House with the Stained-glass Window begins in 1989 when a soprano at the Lviv opera is shot dead while leading her fellow citizens in a protest against Soviet power. She leaves an eleven-year-old daughter who tells the story of their family both before and after the shooting. ‘Just like their home city of Lviv, which stands at the crossroads of nations and cultures, the women in this family have had turbulent lives, scarred by war and political turmoil, but also by their own inability to show each other their feelings. Lyrically told, this is the story of a young girl’s emotional, sexual, artistic and political awakening’ say the publishers. This is such an interesting period in that part of the world, the repercussions of which are still being felt today.

Since its longlisting for this year’s Man Booker the publication of my next choice has been brought forward to August but I can’t bring myself to let it go unmentioned. In Kamila Shamsie’s Home Fire, a young woman realises her dream of studying in America but can’t stop worrying about her twin siblings: the headstrong Aneeka in London, and Parvaiz who seems intent on following the same path as his jihadist father. Then the son of a powerful British Muslim politician enters the sisters’ lives: ‘Is he to be a chance at love? The means of Parvaiz’s salvation? Two families’ fates are inextricably, devastatingly entwined in this Cover imagesearing novel that asks: what sacrifices will we make in the name of love? A contemporary reimagining of Sophocles’ Antigone, Home Fire is an urgent, fiercely compelling story of loyalties torn apart when love and politics collide’ say the publishers a little melodramatically. It’s been quite some time since Shamsie’s last novel, A God in Every Stone, and I’m sure that the Man Booker longlisting will only have added to the anticipation for this one, published tomorrow.

Which can also be said about Claire Messud’s The Burning Girl. There was a bit of a literary stir back in 2013, the year Messud’s The Woman Upstairs was published in the UK, when an interviewer asked her why her narrator was so unlikeable. Messud gave a somewhat waspish response – and who can blame her? How tedious fiction would be if every character was nice. Her new novel looks at female friendship through two women who have been friends since nursery school but whose paths diverge leaving one of them feeling cast aside. ‘Disturbed, angry and desperate for answers, she sets out on a journey that will put her own life in danger, and shatter her oldest friendship. Compact, compelling, and ferociously sad, The Burning Girl is at once a story about childhood, friendship and community, and a complex examination of the stories we tell ourselves about childhood and friendship’ say the publishers which sounds right up my street.

I’m not so sure about Estep Nagy’s We Shall Not Sleep, a debut set in the summer of 1964. The Quicks and the Hillsingers have shared a small Maine island for generations but despite two intermarriages the families have little to do with each other. This year things look set to change. ‘We Shall Not All Sleep is a richly told story of American class, family, and manipulation–a compelling portrait of a unique and privileged WASP stronghold on the brink of dissolution’ according to the publishers. I like the sound of that but not so much the mention of violent games and sadistic older brothers which appears further on in the very detailed blurb.

Cover imageMy last choice for September is set in a bleak, hungry and frozen London in January 1947. Patrick McGrath’s The Wardrobe Mistress tells the story of Joan whose actor husband, the great Charlie Grice, has died. Persuaded against her will to attend a benefit performance of Charlie’s last play, Joan is shocked to see her husband’s eyes staring back at her from his understudy’s face. Grief-stricken, she seeks comfort with the young actor but discovers a dreadful secret. Anyone who’s read McGrath’s previous fiction will be expecting more than a touch of the gothic and it sounds as if they won’t be disappointed.

That’s it for September titles. A little thin this year, given that it’s the beginning of the run up to Christmas in the publishing year but I’m sure October will be jam-packed with goodies. Paperbacks soon…