A.S. Byatt's first collection of short stories is a bit of a mixed bag. There are some wonderful ones, but Byatt also sometimes strays down the road of academic dryness - the one about the academic visiting the Far East, which I'm afraid I couldn't finish!, the short story about the novelist intending to write a serious novel but getting thwarted by first a mad friend and then illness, the account of a tragedy in Italy which prevents Robert Browning staying with some friends (this one had some wonderful moments but tended to ramble slightly and there was a sense - as with Byatt's historical novels - of her needing to get a lot of factual boxes ticked). Others I felt were rather nasty - 'The Next Room', a terrifying vision of the afterlife as a suburban room with married couples endlessly arguing, the tale of an agrophobic boy whose time living with a writer who suffers from terrors of her own leads to his suicide when she refuses to help him or talk to him, or worse, the story about the unhappy pensioner who meets a man who just might - we don't ever know - have psychopathic tendencies. 'The July Ghost' was much better - a terribly unhappy story about grief after the loss of a child, but exquisitely written. I found the short story about the jinx in an imaginary ancient society rather baffling - I'm glad Byatt didn't take to fantasy writing, it's not quite her thing, I think. 'Racine and the Tablecloth' was almost an absolutely brilliant story - Byatt was tackling something very interesting in looking at the sadistic relationships that can develop between power-loving teachers and insecure schoolgirls - but it slightly falls apart towards the end, as I felt Byatt had never quite worked out why Emily, the schoolgirl, had her breakdown, or exactly how her problems had affected the next generation and her daughter. Byatt is at her best when most relaxed, simply describing things and people. 'Rose-Coloured Teacups' is a lovely look at what it is like to be middle-aged with growing children, while 'Sugar', the final, autobiographical short story reminds one why Byatt has become so famous - it's a superb piece of richly descriptive, painterly writing, with the family, from the grandfather (manufacturer of boiled sweets) to the eager, frustrated mother and the quite and reflective father, plus various siblings and other relatives, brought marvellously to life.
A collection of uneven quality (as short story collections so often are) but with some superb things in it.