Look At Me
Author: Anita Brookner
Published by: Penguin Books
Pages: 192
Format: Paperback
My Rating: ★★★★★
Published by: Penguin Books
Pages: 192
Format: Paperback
My Rating: ★★★★★
By day Frances Hinton works in a medical library, by night she haunts the room of a West London mansion flat. Everything changes, however, when she is adopted by charming Nick and his dazzling wife Alix. They draw her into their tight circle of friends.
Suddenly, Frances' life is full and ripe with new engagements. But too late, Frances realises that she may be only a play thing, to be picked up and discarded once used. And that just one act in defiance of Alix's wishes could see her lose everything . . .
Suddenly, Frances' life is full and ripe with new engagements. But too late, Frances realises that she may be only a play thing, to be picked up and discarded once used. And that just one act in defiance of Alix's wishes could see her lose everything . . .
My thoughts:
Perceptive, engrossing and enigmatic, Look at Me tells the story of the inner life of a lonely young woman named Frances Hinton. At first glance, this seems like a sedate, British version of books like My Year of Rest and Relaxation,not that anyone is doing drugs or having sex in this novel. But Brookner could easily be described as the ultimate writer of lonely, socially difficult women who view themselves as outsiders, or in this case, observers of beautiful and frivolous people.
Frances is a spinster who works in the reference library of a medical research institute, organising and cataloguing images of various mental conditions and abnormalities of human behaviour. Highly analytical and orderly by nature, Frances is a keen observer of her colleagues and visitors to the institute, studying and recording her observations as potential material for short stories, or potentially a novel.
In her spare time, Frances aspires to be a writer, viewing her writing as a means of expression, a way of reminding other people that she exists. In short, it is her one way of saying: ‘Look at me. Look at me’.
After work each night, Frances returns home to a large, out-of-date flat in Maida Vale she has inherited from her recently deceased mother. She lives in her parents' dark old home with the ancient heavy furniture she grew up with. There she is looked after by the family’s elderly maid, a steadfast yet loyal Irish woman named Nancy, who cares for Frances as if she were still a child, serving her the same bland meal each evening out of habit and routine.
There are times, especially at night, when Frances wonders if this is to be her lot, with Nancy shuffling along the corridor in her worn slippers, carrying the same old-fashioned tray with the same meagre dinner every evening. The blessing and curse of solitude underpin everything in this novel, from Frances’ tentative writing career to her painfully reserved relationships with others, to her self-image as a well-behaved but needy child. Frances is chronically lonely, constantly battling to convince herself that she is content, or at least that her stark existence is a choice. Her life is focused on avoiding loneliness. We’re told she is attractive, but not beautiful. We learn of her lack of self-assertiveness through things like her letting everyone call her Fanny even though she prefers Frances. She is a fascinating, complicated, wonderfully drawn character.
Frances longs for a little enjoyment and excitement in her life. When she is least expecting it, she finds herself being drawn into the seductive world of Dr Nick Fraser, a charming yet shallow researcher at the institute, and Alix, his alluring, self-confident wife. They attract various devotees and followers, drawing in admirers wherever they go. Naturally, Frances is intrigued by the Frasers’ sophisticated lifestyle, and she clings to their company. She seizes the opportunity to share in the joys and pleasures of the lives of this glittering couple.
Frances seeks the company of extroverts like the Frasers – as though their personalities will rub off on her without any effort being made on her part; as though the isolation and dullness of fellow outcasts (such as former library employee Mrs Morpeth, who she visits monthly out of a sense of duty she can never quite banish) might, too, be catching.
Nick is a perfect example of someone who floats by in life with superficial charm. With Alix, everyone in her circle must be inferior and owned, added to the circle to be part of the selected audience to admire this golden couple, and it’s when it comes to ownership that the situation becomes destructive and painful. She seems repeatedly careless and unfeeling, treating Frances as a kind of toy or plaything for her personal amusement, tossing her aside whenever she is bored. And yet, Frances puts up with Alix’s supposedly good-natured taunts, submitting to being referred to as ‘Little Orphan Fanny’ even though she claims to dislike the use of this pet name.
Not only do Dr Nick Fraser and his wife Alix, take an interest in Frances, and involve her in their social life, but it is through them that she meets James Anstey, and the love she has longed for seems, at last, a real possibility. James is another researcher at the institute, who on the surface seems reliable and considerate.
Frances becomes unspeakably happy with him before the megalomaniac eye of Alix, whose own marriage to Nick must be seen by all as the highest attainment of wedded bliss. Naturally, she corrupts James. Sadly, Frances can’t see the evil until it’s far too late. And even after she knows her “friends” are awful, even after she realizes she is not one of their kind—for she is kind—she remains intoxicated by their cool superiority to others. Only when she writes does she feel she has a voice.
Nick and Alix remind me of Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald wannabes, and ultimately, they only leave Frances to find her hopes of companionship and happiness shattered. The novel is very moving—especially Frances’s disorienting night journey through the spooky substations of Hyde Park. The story is straight-forward; no magic, no flashbacks, no tricks. A simple road through a simple life. Everything is in the details. Every experience, no matter how insignificant, has the potential to alter your existence in a profound and painful way.
As the story draws to a close, there is a sense that Frances realises she was out of her depth with the Frasers, destined for a brief flirtation with their luxurious lives without every truly taking part. Her only consolation is that she now has ample material for her novel.
The most obvious strength of this novel is the quality of its writing. Brookner does remarkable things with setting, mood, character, and development. Regardless of its plot, the novel works at its strongest as a detailed analysis of the fascinating, tragic, endlessly quotable Frances. She is heart breaking and maddening, frustrating and off-putting, yet I think many readers will recognise parts of themselves in her.
Look at Me Is a very accomplished novel. It’s frustrating at times, which in fact keeps you reading, and so elegantly crafted I felt I was reading something from the fifties. I loved it. This is my first encounter with Anita Brookner’s work, and I look forward to reading more of her novels.
Overall reaction:
Perceptive, engrossing and enigmatic, Look at Me tells the story of the inner life of a lonely young woman named Frances Hinton. At first glance, this seems like a sedate, British version of books like My Year of Rest and Relaxation,not that anyone is doing drugs or having sex in this novel. But Brookner could easily be described as the ultimate writer of lonely, socially difficult women who view themselves as outsiders, or in this case, observers of beautiful and frivolous people.
Frances is a spinster who works in the reference library of a medical research institute, organising and cataloguing images of various mental conditions and abnormalities of human behaviour. Highly analytical and orderly by nature, Frances is a keen observer of her colleagues and visitors to the institute, studying and recording her observations as potential material for short stories, or potentially a novel.
In her spare time, Frances aspires to be a writer, viewing her writing as a means of expression, a way of reminding other people that she exists. In short, it is her one way of saying: ‘Look at me. Look at me’.
After work each night, Frances returns home to a large, out-of-date flat in Maida Vale she has inherited from her recently deceased mother. She lives in her parents' dark old home with the ancient heavy furniture she grew up with. There she is looked after by the family’s elderly maid, a steadfast yet loyal Irish woman named Nancy, who cares for Frances as if she were still a child, serving her the same bland meal each evening out of habit and routine.
There are times, especially at night, when Frances wonders if this is to be her lot, with Nancy shuffling along the corridor in her worn slippers, carrying the same old-fashioned tray with the same meagre dinner every evening. The blessing and curse of solitude underpin everything in this novel, from Frances’ tentative writing career to her painfully reserved relationships with others, to her self-image as a well-behaved but needy child. Frances is chronically lonely, constantly battling to convince herself that she is content, or at least that her stark existence is a choice. Her life is focused on avoiding loneliness. We’re told she is attractive, but not beautiful. We learn of her lack of self-assertiveness through things like her letting everyone call her Fanny even though she prefers Frances. She is a fascinating, complicated, wonderfully drawn character.
Frances longs for a little enjoyment and excitement in her life. When she is least expecting it, she finds herself being drawn into the seductive world of Dr Nick Fraser, a charming yet shallow researcher at the institute, and Alix, his alluring, self-confident wife. They attract various devotees and followers, drawing in admirers wherever they go. Naturally, Frances is intrigued by the Frasers’ sophisticated lifestyle, and she clings to their company. She seizes the opportunity to share in the joys and pleasures of the lives of this glittering couple.
Frances seeks the company of extroverts like the Frasers – as though their personalities will rub off on her without any effort being made on her part; as though the isolation and dullness of fellow outcasts (such as former library employee Mrs Morpeth, who she visits monthly out of a sense of duty she can never quite banish) might, too, be catching.
Nick is a perfect example of someone who floats by in life with superficial charm. With Alix, everyone in her circle must be inferior and owned, added to the circle to be part of the selected audience to admire this golden couple, and it’s when it comes to ownership that the situation becomes destructive and painful. She seems repeatedly careless and unfeeling, treating Frances as a kind of toy or plaything for her personal amusement, tossing her aside whenever she is bored. And yet, Frances puts up with Alix’s supposedly good-natured taunts, submitting to being referred to as ‘Little Orphan Fanny’ even though she claims to dislike the use of this pet name.
Not only do Dr Nick Fraser and his wife Alix, take an interest in Frances, and involve her in their social life, but it is through them that she meets James Anstey, and the love she has longed for seems, at last, a real possibility. James is another researcher at the institute, who on the surface seems reliable and considerate.
Frances becomes unspeakably happy with him before the megalomaniac eye of Alix, whose own marriage to Nick must be seen by all as the highest attainment of wedded bliss. Naturally, she corrupts James. Sadly, Frances can’t see the evil until it’s far too late. And even after she knows her “friends” are awful, even after she realizes she is not one of their kind—for she is kind—she remains intoxicated by their cool superiority to others. Only when she writes does she feel she has a voice.
Nick and Alix remind me of Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald wannabes, and ultimately, they only leave Frances to find her hopes of companionship and happiness shattered. The novel is very moving—especially Frances’s disorienting night journey through the spooky substations of Hyde Park. The story is straight-forward; no magic, no flashbacks, no tricks. A simple road through a simple life. Everything is in the details. Every experience, no matter how insignificant, has the potential to alter your existence in a profound and painful way.
As the story draws to a close, there is a sense that Frances realises she was out of her depth with the Frasers, destined for a brief flirtation with their luxurious lives without every truly taking part. Her only consolation is that she now has ample material for her novel.
The most obvious strength of this novel is the quality of its writing. Brookner does remarkable things with setting, mood, character, and development. Regardless of its plot, the novel works at its strongest as a detailed analysis of the fascinating, tragic, endlessly quotable Frances. She is heart breaking and maddening, frustrating and off-putting, yet I think many readers will recognise parts of themselves in her.
Look at Me Is a very accomplished novel. It’s frustrating at times, which in fact keeps you reading, and so elegantly crafted I felt I was reading something from the fifties. I loved it. This is my first encounter with Anita Brookner’s work, and I look forward to reading more of her novels.
Overall reaction: