W.W. Norton & Company, October 2010
In Great House, Nicole Krauss has built a monument to the art of the novel. She reminds readers of the limitless restraints of a novelist, and in four connected stories manages to break down all notions of form and expectation to create a work that is so exceptional and ambitious that it is nothing short of a triumph. It is an unconventional read, and at times quite difficult, but ultimately one that will reset the novel's foundation for many patient readers.
In each thread of Great House, monologues emerge from darkness; feelings pour out of these voices before we even know who is talking. Names are not important in Great House, and physically speaking, the only character descriptions are their own self-perceptions. We're left with the task of building people out of their own ideas and emotions. For instance, Before we know the character Nadia's name, we learn that she's the kind of woman who would describe a kiss as "anticlimactic... just a note of punctuation in our long conversation, a parenthetical remark made in order to assure each other of a deeply felt agreement..." The plot of Great House is eked out in a way that further describes and defines each Krauss's narrators, as if to say what happened is nowhere near as important as how it was interpreted.
In Great House, Nicole Krauss has built a monument to the art of the novel. She reminds readers of the limitless restraints of a novelist, and in four connected stories manages to break down all notions of form and expectation to create a work that is so exceptional and ambitious that it is nothing short of a triumph. It is an unconventional read, and at times quite difficult, but ultimately one that will reset the novel's foundation for many patient readers.
In each thread of Great House, monologues emerge from darkness; feelings pour out of these voices before we even know who is talking. Names are not important in Great House, and physically speaking, the only character descriptions are their own self-perceptions. We're left with the task of building people out of their own ideas and emotions. For instance, Before we know the character Nadia's name, we learn that she's the kind of woman who would describe a kiss as "anticlimactic... just a note of punctuation in our long conversation, a parenthetical remark made in order to assure each other of a deeply felt agreement..." The plot of Great House is eked out in a way that further describes and defines each Krauss's narrators, as if to say what happened is nowhere near as important as how it was interpreted.
As far as plot is concerned: there's very little movement, as the novel is more about emotional arcs than narrative arcs. In her twenties, a novelist meets a Chilean poet named Daniel Varsky, who is headed abroad and needs someone to keep his furniture for him. Among his assets is an old writer's desk of dubious origin. Years pass, and the novelist writes, but Varsky never returns for his desk. Meanwhile, an antiques dealer in Jerusalem is trying to reassemble his father's study, plundered by Nazis during the war. Elsewhere, an elderly couple exhumes secrets from their past, and a soldier and his father reunite in Israel after a death in the family.
Each of these threads is tied together by Varsky's wandering desk, but more importantly they are connected with a shared understanding of what it means to have something and then lose it. Friends, family, objects-people's memories of these things are shared in Great House in a way that builds something with such presence and emotion that the physical is eventually rendered obsolete. Later in the novel, an elderly character reflects on his wife's hidden past:
Each of these threads is tied together by Varsky's wandering desk, but more importantly they are connected with a shared understanding of what it means to have something and then lose it. Friends, family, objects-people's memories of these things are shared in Great House in a way that builds something with such presence and emotion that the physical is eventually rendered obsolete. Later in the novel, an elderly character reflects on his wife's hidden past:
"That her sanity, her ability to carry on with life, both her own and the one we had forged together, depended on her ability and my solemn agreement to cordon off those nightmarish memories, to let them sleep like wolves in a lair, and to do nothing that might threaten their sleep. That she visited these wolves in her dreams, that she lay down with them and even wrote about them, however many times metamorphosed into other forms, I knew well enough. I was a complicit if not equal partner in her silences. And as such, they were not what one might call secrets."
And, even the characters in Great House who don't share a secret, even those who have not yet met in person, seem to share the same hidden feelings, as if they too are partners in each other's silence.
What is most remarkable about Great House is how un-filmable it is. By dealing predominantly with the emotional interpretations of her characters, Krauss has gracefully captured so much elegance in the minutiae of everyday life and death that many scenes in Great House can truly only exist as text:
"Here, Gottlieb blinked, and in the peace of that sunny afternoon I heard his lashes, magnified many times, brush against the lenses of his glasses. Otherwise, the room, the house, the day itself seemed to have emptied of all sounds but my voice."
Although at times difficult to unlock, these scenes remind us why writers write-and to think that Krauss is able to embed such an emotional and complex novel with these subtle reminders is truly a marvel.
And, even the characters in Great House who don't share a secret, even those who have not yet met in person, seem to share the same hidden feelings, as if they too are partners in each other's silence.
What is most remarkable about Great House is how un-filmable it is. By dealing predominantly with the emotional interpretations of her characters, Krauss has gracefully captured so much elegance in the minutiae of everyday life and death that many scenes in Great House can truly only exist as text:
"Here, Gottlieb blinked, and in the peace of that sunny afternoon I heard his lashes, magnified many times, brush against the lenses of his glasses. Otherwise, the room, the house, the day itself seemed to have emptied of all sounds but my voice."
Although at times difficult to unlock, these scenes remind us why writers write-and to think that Krauss is able to embed such an emotional and complex novel with these subtle reminders is truly a marvel.
Disclosure: A review copy was provided by the publisher. For more information, please see our Ethics Policy.
