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A review by stephwd
Perfect by Rachel Joyce
2.0
I really liked the sound of this book – two seconds are supposedly added to time – a two seconds that not only obsess the young protagonist, Bryon, but also ultimately prove fatal. There is a dual narrative sustained throughout the novel: the first story, which is by far the more interesting, portrays the lives of two young friends, James and Byron, who desperately desire to protect Byron’s increasingly frail mother. The second narrative, set some forty years later, follows the life of Jim, a man who suffers from crippling OCD and is utterly isolated from society. However, the reason for his evident mental fragility is tantalizing withheld both from the reader, and in part, himself.
The novel raises some interesting issues that could well have proved rich material for investigation and narrative. However, these were not really addressed at all. Instead, what Joyce provided us with was a rather bland narrative where the monotonous nature of the boys’ lengthy summer was aptly translated into the novel, which also in turn became rather tedious and repetitive. As a result, I found myself wishing to skim read whole sections particularly those involving Jim, which were not only unrealistic, but failed to really engage my empathy with this rather sad figure.
If I compare it to ‘The Shock of the Fall’, which has many similarities given the fact it also deals with the fall out of a tragic childhood event that then results in mental illness, I felt Joyce’s ‘Perfect’ was significantly lacking. Whilst Filer’s novel cleverly addressed the failures of the mental health service and the devastating impact of closures of facilities that were so crucial to these vulnerable individuals, this was merely skirted over in ‘Perfect’.
What is more, there were obvious issues within the central narrative that Joyce seemingly glossed over – in fact, it seemed all the time that she was concerned only with the surface of things, their aesthetic appearance or perception from the outside rather than what was truly occurring either within the internal world of her characters or beyond this. Too much was left for the reader to infer, interpret or simply guess at. There was much that could have been done with the position of this beautiful, but isolated mother figure: her evident fear of her husband and desperation to fit in with the other elite mothers and becomes someone she clearly was uncomfortable in becoming as well as her own mental issues. Yet although these issues were hinted at together with the medication she was taking, we were never allowed into her internal thoughts and as such, she remained a distant figure whose ultimate demise failed to elicit the sympathy it should have. Moreover, the aftermath of her death was simply left as a cliffhanger so once again we were left to infer the repercussions, which were but briefly alluded to. I would have accepted this fact, if the novel had not clearly been concerned with the aftermath years later in the shape of the second narrative strand. Nor did the story of the father later committing suicide really appear in keeping with his behavior throughout the novel – his constant absence, his lack of care or concern and his evident materialistic obsession. Another interesting issue that Joyce failed to really examine was the young boys’ evident fixation on the beautiful young mother. There was clearly something incestuous in her son’s desire to protect her and the manner in which he often voyeuristically observed her behavior and yet this was neither explored nor adequately addressed.
Having said this, there was often a real beauty to Joyce’s prose. She has a lovely poetic turn of phrase and was adept at creating the oppressive atmosphere of the summer months of 1972 that was absolutely in keeping with the building sense of foreboding that did propel the narrative forward. This was then cleverly juxtaposed with the bitter chill of the winter setting employed in the second narrative, which created both the impression of contrast and relief.
However, ultimately the novel felt lacking. There was so much that could have been done with the material, so much more that could have been made of both the underlying issues and the characters that was barely touched upon. As a result, the narrative itself lacked credibility, often became tedious and was ultimately, far from ‘Perfect’ I am afraid.
The novel raises some interesting issues that could well have proved rich material for investigation and narrative. However, these were not really addressed at all. Instead, what Joyce provided us with was a rather bland narrative where the monotonous nature of the boys’ lengthy summer was aptly translated into the novel, which also in turn became rather tedious and repetitive. As a result, I found myself wishing to skim read whole sections particularly those involving Jim, which were not only unrealistic, but failed to really engage my empathy with this rather sad figure.
If I compare it to ‘The Shock of the Fall’, which has many similarities given the fact it also deals with the fall out of a tragic childhood event that then results in mental illness, I felt Joyce’s ‘Perfect’ was significantly lacking. Whilst Filer’s novel cleverly addressed the failures of the mental health service and the devastating impact of closures of facilities that were so crucial to these vulnerable individuals, this was merely skirted over in ‘Perfect’.
What is more, there were obvious issues within the central narrative that Joyce seemingly glossed over – in fact, it seemed all the time that she was concerned only with the surface of things, their aesthetic appearance or perception from the outside rather than what was truly occurring either within the internal world of her characters or beyond this. Too much was left for the reader to infer, interpret or simply guess at. There was much that could have been done with the position of this beautiful, but isolated mother figure: her evident fear of her husband and desperation to fit in with the other elite mothers and becomes someone she clearly was uncomfortable in becoming as well as her own mental issues. Yet although these issues were hinted at together with the medication she was taking, we were never allowed into her internal thoughts and as such, she remained a distant figure whose ultimate demise failed to elicit the sympathy it should have. Moreover, the aftermath of her death was simply left as a cliffhanger so once again we were left to infer the repercussions, which were but briefly alluded to. I would have accepted this fact, if the novel had not clearly been concerned with the aftermath years later in the shape of the second narrative strand. Nor did the story of the father later committing suicide really appear in keeping with his behavior throughout the novel – his constant absence, his lack of care or concern and his evident materialistic obsession. Another interesting issue that Joyce failed to really examine was the young boys’ evident fixation on the beautiful young mother. There was clearly something incestuous in her son’s desire to protect her and the manner in which he often voyeuristically observed her behavior and yet this was neither explored nor adequately addressed.
Having said this, there was often a real beauty to Joyce’s prose. She has a lovely poetic turn of phrase and was adept at creating the oppressive atmosphere of the summer months of 1972 that was absolutely in keeping with the building sense of foreboding that did propel the narrative forward. This was then cleverly juxtaposed with the bitter chill of the winter setting employed in the second narrative, which created both the impression of contrast and relief.
However, ultimately the novel felt lacking. There was so much that could have been done with the material, so much more that could have been made of both the underlying issues and the characters that was barely touched upon. As a result, the narrative itself lacked credibility, often became tedious and was ultimately, far from ‘Perfect’ I am afraid.