A review by gerhard
The Sunken Cathedral by Kate Walbert
4.0
Reading this reminded me just how much my reading tastes have changed over the years. There used to be a time when I would never have considered picking up a book about a disparate cast of characters, including two elderly reminiscing French widows, in New York City against a backdrop of an impending hurricane.
The theme of submergence is echoed by the title, of course, which refers to a piece by Debussy that Kate Walbert describes as “the musical version of Impressionisim.” This is a good indication of her literary technique here, which stitches together past and future events and thoughts in an utterly beguiling fashion. I particularly liked the way that Walbert uses her extensive footnotes as a means of showing her characters in daydreaming or reflective mode.
I did have a couple of quibbles: we do not really need to be told that Jules “loved men, not women.” This is quite implicit in the narrative, and for Walbert to put it so bluntly strikes quite a jarring note. Also, I strongly suspect Walbert simply called a character Poppy just so she could write the line that “Poppy cocks his head.”
These are very minor, and do not detract from the rather wondrous flow of this novel, which carries the reader along its meandering flow. I was reminded of 10:04 by Ben Lerner, which shares a setting and inclement weather with The Sunken Chathedral, but there any resemblance ends.
Perhaps it is just as I have gotten older that I can fully appreciate such a graceful and elliptical book about the ageing process and its impact on one’s self, especially in terms of memory. I wonder what my younger self would have made of such a book?
I doubt all readers will be as enamoured of Kate Walbert’s achievement here as I am, as nothing much happens in terms of plot, which will be frustrating if you go into this expecting a traditional narrative (particularly the denouement).
But that is one of the lasting pleasures of reading (and ageing): To simply enjoy a book just for what it is.
The theme of submergence is echoed by the title, of course, which refers to a piece by Debussy that Kate Walbert describes as “the musical version of Impressionisim.” This is a good indication of her literary technique here, which stitches together past and future events and thoughts in an utterly beguiling fashion. I particularly liked the way that Walbert uses her extensive footnotes as a means of showing her characters in daydreaming or reflective mode.
I did have a couple of quibbles: we do not really need to be told that Jules “loved men, not women.” This is quite implicit in the narrative, and for Walbert to put it so bluntly strikes quite a jarring note. Also, I strongly suspect Walbert simply called a character Poppy just so she could write the line that “Poppy cocks his head.”
These are very minor, and do not detract from the rather wondrous flow of this novel, which carries the reader along its meandering flow. I was reminded of 10:04 by Ben Lerner, which shares a setting and inclement weather with The Sunken Chathedral, but there any resemblance ends.
Perhaps it is just as I have gotten older that I can fully appreciate such a graceful and elliptical book about the ageing process and its impact on one’s self, especially in terms of memory. I wonder what my younger self would have made of such a book?
I doubt all readers will be as enamoured of Kate Walbert’s achievement here as I am, as nothing much happens in terms of plot, which will be frustrating if you go into this expecting a traditional narrative (particularly the denouement).
But that is one of the lasting pleasures of reading (and ageing): To simply enjoy a book just for what it is.