Wish Her Safe At Home

[Jen]

Wish Her Safe At Home - Stephen Benatar

This is an astonishingly good book and I'm worried that I won't do it justice. Happily, the 25th anniversary which I have has an introduction by John Carey, so all quotes are from him.

This is the story of Rachel, an apparently ordinary woman who inherits and moves in to a house in Bristol. She falls in love with the house and her new life and soon starts to 'embrace a new life of creativity and pleasure'. She starts to write a novelisation of the life of a former occupant of the house which develops into an obsession.

Written in the first person, the novel cleverly tells you more than you really want to know about Rachel and what she is thinking. It's often not clear how much of what you are reading is her inner-speech or did she really just say that out loud? One starts to feel increasingly awkward and at the same time worried for Rachel. "Rachel is a version of our secret selves...we fear for her...we harbour black suspicions about anyone who seems out to deceive her."

There isn't a lot of plot, but the characterisation is wonderful. I don't think I've ever read a book where I've identified more with a character and then fearful that I might face the same destiny. Without being patronising, this book is all the more impressive in being written by a man, about a woman.

I'd love to hear what someone else thinks. A late contender for book of the year in my house.

[megustaleer]

Have just added that to my wishlist, on the strength of your comments, a couple of Amazon reviews and the Observer review Hazel referred to a while back.

[Hazel]

After your thoughts, Jen, I'll add it to my wishlist too. Thanks.

[Stewart]

I'd love to hear what someone else thinks.
Former member John Self reviewed this back in October on his blog (http://theasylum.wordpress.com/2007/10/17/stephen-benatar-wish-her-safe-at-home/) and the post drew the interest of both Stephen Benatar and his partner, John Murphy, who have both responded in detail about the book there. So, why not get the thoughts of the author?

I myself bought the book directly from them and I'm looking to read it one or two down the line.

[Jen]

Former member John Self reviewed this back in October on his blog (http://theasylum.wordpress.com/2007/10/17/stephen-benatar-wish-her-safe-at-home/) and the post drew the interest of both Stephen Benatar and his partner, John Murphy, who have both responded in detail about the book there. So, why not get the thoughts of the author?
Ain't the internet wonderful? Stephen Benatar is a brave man, touting his book about like that and all power to him. I can't imagine anyone will regret being parted with £7.99 for this book. I think we should start a word-of-mouth sensation a la Captain Corelli. This assumes that anyone else likes it, of course.

[Flingo]

I think we should start a word-of-mouth sensation a la Captain Corelli. This assumes that anyone else likes it, of course.
Wish Her Safe At Home - BGO's new Children's War?!

[Jen]

Wish Her Safe At Home - BGO's new Children's War?!
Well now, that would be quite something!

[megustaleer]

Wish Her Safe At Home - BGO's new Children's War?!Perhaps we'd better wait until a couple of others have read it and reported back before we get too excited!

[nonsuch]

Stephen Benatar’s novel Wish Her Safe at Home is, according to John Carey’s introduction, ‘an impressive study of [a] woman going quietly and genteelly crazy.’ It is also a most engaging novel. There aren’t too many novels whose every word delights and sends a shiver of recognition down the reader’s spine. I found this to be a rare treat, a book that fascinated and amused from start to finish. It’s leisurely pace seduces so that even the banal and everyday musings of an old lady provide insights not only into her heroic struggle with senility but into the way even the sanest of us build up fantasies to such an extent that for most of the time we are ‘not living in the real world.’ It’s reassuring to know that others are as nutty as oneself.

Only gradually does the reader come to realise that Rachel Waring, the narrator, is making a desperate effort to cling on to her sanity. Like all of us her mind flicks from fluid everyday concerns to reassuring and static pictures of the past. The difference between the mad and the sane is that the mad cannot distinguish between reality and fantasy, that the mad inhabit both simultaneously. Ultimately Rachel, while sounding so eminently sensible and ‘on the ball’ drifts towards the inevitable Home of the title. Rachel’s private indulgence in wistful memory - as snatches of song and scenes from vintage movies drift through her mind - becomes increasingly accompanied by a desperate gaiety in public. She becomes a social embarrassment, fit only for some sort of protective environment. It is thus no accident that two of the many recurring images that haunt the book are those of two very contrasting fictional heroines: Scarlett O’Hara and Blanche Dubois, as played by Vivien Leigh in the movies of Gone with the Wind and Streetcar Named Desire. The vital and always amusing Rachel Waring is a heroine to cherish and remember with delight. She shows us that old ladies are forever wonderful - some achievement indeed! Her creator is to be congratulated. As Carey says, he ought to have won the Booker.

[megustaleer]

Hmm, it was still on my Wishlist the last time I looked (daren't look again, as there's a birthday coming up and I don't want to spoil any surprises ;) ). I guess I can start looking for it in the charity shops by now :rolleyes:

[Hazel]

I've still got my copy on my shelves, must get round to it.

[Minxminnie]

I have got this on the TBR-soon pile, without realising it is a BGO favourite. Will get around to it soon.

[Minxminnie]

I've just finished this.

I'm a bit more sparing with my praise than others. The characterisation is clever, and Rachel's decline is mesmerising and horrific. The use of first person is a brilliant vehicle for conveying her decline, because as a reader you gradually detach from her as she gets worse, and you start to see what she can't see.

I'd have to question nonsuch's description of her as an "old" woman. As far as I could tell, she's 47 when she moves to Bristol, and the events of the novel don't seem to cover much more than a year. I couldn't understand what was the trigger for her mental illness, and I found it very sad, especially as I'm only a few years younger than Rachel. In that sense, I thought there was something uncomfortably comic about the presentation of her plight, which comes from the gaeity of the uncomprehending narrative voice.

I'm going to have another think about it, and to read John Carey's intro.