Most Helpful Customer Reviews
|
|
3 of 12 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
The Shallow End of the Gene Pool, 2 Jun 2004
Were we really that shallow in the 60s? Were we so selfish and superficial? Margaret Forster thought so in 1965, when she wrote this book, back when dolly girls, mods and rockers were all the rage, and when London swung like a pendulum do. Forster’s writing is like her 60s people – bitter, fashionable and thin – odd, when her lead character is larger than life, a lumpy virgin who clowns to cover her insecurity. But in this book, Georgy Girl comes off as a self obsessed whiner. What a tangled web we wove back then, for the 70s and 80s to get stuck in. But a web with no depth, it seems, so care for its own complexity. Briefly, Georgy shares a flat with Meredith, a brittle, pretty `dolly girl’ who gets pregnant to Jos, a dateburger if there ever was one. Meredith dumps the baby, and her boyfriend, on Georgy, who at 27 has never had a boyfriend, let alone a loser like Josh. Her one admirer is her father’s employer, James, who offers her the condo deal – or as it was better known in London in the 60s, wants her to be his `mistress’. The novel skims over these complex people and relationships like a rock over a pond. It is all about their feelings, but it has no feeling at all, and the characters are simply cutouts shoved around a chess board. The baby, Sara, isn’t even a character – she’s just a whining plot device. At one stage, her father contemplates throwing her in the river to get Georgy all to himself. How politically incorrect is that? But even this just sits on the surface of the pool, causing no disturbance that might reach a little deeper into the soul. These people don’t like each other and don’t like themselves either, and that’s how the reader feels. Who cares? What a bunch of losers. Maybe the real problem is that I read it right after The Stand, feeling that I needed something lighter after diving in the deep end for days. But this was just too shallow. It barely covered my ankles.
|
|
|
2.0 out of 5 stars
Unattractive characters in search of a plot, 10 Jul 2009
Half a dozen unpleasantly, solipsisticly self-obsessed characters wander around doing nothing except being horrible to each other and to themselves. It doesn't tell you anything about them, about the sixties or about human nature. If I learnt anything from this it is that rich people get annoyed if they don't get what they want, but that actually they usually do, in fact, get what they want. Not, I am sure you will agree, the most revolutionary of philosophical insights.
I suppose that one must excuse the baby from the same criticism heaped on the other characters except of course when one stops and reflects reflects on just what she is inevitably going to be like as she comes of age in the eighties having grown up in that background.
|
|
|
|