Discovering Andrew Miller’s work, at this stage of his career, reminds me of the solid sense of anticipation that I felt upon reading Rupert Thomson’s Secrecy (2013). As authors of 8 and 11 novels respectively, I’m surprised that I hadn’t been tempted to read one of their books until a publisher pressed a copy of one in my hands.
(And this is why I am grateful for a handful of good readers working as publicists who are dedicated to making solid matches between readers and writers, who know my taste and send selected titles, very occasionally and very deliberately, and always with a personal note.)
The remarkable thing about this novel is how deeply I fell into the story. Even without – for a good while – a particular connection to a single character. As though my connection was to the world, rather than to the narrative.
Miller’s prose is lyrical. Time slips “like honey through muslin” and many people “have an edge of lunacy to them, like fat on a cutlet”. There is a “shining wire of a stream in the crease of the valley” and music’s “echo ebbed away towards the whispered beating of the sea, as if for safe keeping”.
His use of description is not only poetic, however; it also bolsters the atmosphere. So in one moment, we see a “mercury-coloured sea that now and then slopped over the gunwales to swirl, bubbling, around their boots”. And, in another, he “lifted her hand to the honeysuckle, to the silk edges of tulips, to cornflowers whose colour she would not allow to be simply ‘blue’”. (My favourite, though less vibrant, is of the room “scented with the soft smell of itself – wood, old fabrics, the coal-breath of the fireplace”.)
Thinking back on the story, there are several characters who move on and off the stage of the novel, who appear to have been fully attended to as individuals. It’s easy to imagine thick folders of character-work, notes and images and backstory, for a woman who tends to the house, for a sister, for a trickster. This community of characters is where the power rests for me, but ultimately one relationship does take root in the narrative and it takes on a new focus.
“He did not dare to question what he was doing, Start to question it and he might find himself gazing through a tear in the skin of the world. There was no other plan. He shut his eyes, opened them. He started up at the blue shadow of the ceiling, longing for his own boyhood until the longing shamed him.”
Andrew Miller peers through this tear in the skin of the world and then widens the gap so that we, too, can see what’s inside. This is not complicated and layered storytelling, but it is a complex and fully developed world, one which I wholly enjoyed inhabiting for a spell.
I had this book out from the library, but had to return before reading it. You’ve convinced me to borrow it once again!
IT’s a very rich setting, Penny: I think you’d enjoy that part of it. (And the overarching storyline that eventually comes to dominate the novel through to the end.)
The prose, oh the prose sounds lovely.
And the richness bears some similarity to Ghosh’s writing (but less drama, fewer characters).
Lovely post, I like the sound of this author’s use of description. Not a book I knew anything about.
Oh, how interesting, because he’s one of yours! The richness of his storytelling reminds me a little of Nadeem Aslam (I think you admire him, IIRC).
You convinced me on this book long ago, but what a beautiful review!
Our library has Crossing and One Morning Like A Bird (nice title!).
Well, there ARE some characters with your last name…how could I not nudge you in the direction of reading this one. laughs
Let me know if you decide to read one of the others: they both sound good to me as well.
I will!
Pure hooked me & I really enjoyed Now We Shall Be Entirely Free as well, although very different stories. There’s something about his writing that takes me along for the ride. Like you, I’m excited by his backlist that is still to be sourced and read 🙂
And of course now the challenge is to follow through and read more, because all the new and shiny books are so tempting too…
I vaguely seem to have heard of Andrew Miller in conjunction with an award. ” Pure”? Anyway, what a great review and I’ll look out for his books at used bookstores.
I’ll be interested to see how you make out, whether his work is readily available in the U.S. as it seems to be less prominent in Canada than it must be in Europe.
God bless book publicists! They are truly doing the Lord’s work 🙂
I’ve never really heard of Andrew Miller, although the name sounds vaguely familiar? He must be a poet as well to write that beautifully.
But, then, you would say so, wouldn’t you?! 😀
Maybe one of his award listings has lodged in your brain…
haha true true
For some reason this one fell off my reading docket last year, but I did very much enjoy the only Miller novel I’ve read (Pure) and intend to read more by him.
I carried it around for weeks without beginning it. It’s a lovely cover, and the margins and typeface are generous and inviting, but somehow I wasn’t pulled to read it for quite some time. Maybe you’ll get around to it before long.
I enjoyed this book too. Andrew Miller’s writing is beautiful, isn’t it? The only other book of his that I’ve read is Pure and I can recommend that one as well, although the subject matter is quite dark!
It really is: there were so many other passages that I keyed in and wanted to include. For their musicality, for the sensory detail. This is quite a dark story, too, but there is a current beneath which makes it all worthwhile.
A close friend of mine is a very big fan of this author’s work, particularly one of his earlier novels, Ingenious Pain – the one Susan has referenced above. I’m glad you enjoyed this, it bodes well for the future.
That’s good to hear, thank you: I’ve added it to my list. Hopefully there’s not too much surgical detail. It’s been to be bloody from that era! winces
Miller is a new-to-me writer too: you really convey the quality of his writing here. I wonder if he’s not well distributed here in Canada and that might be why I haven’t read him to this point.
It looks like he’s been one of those lucky writers with a committed and functioning life-long relationship with his publisher too. His CV is so impressive (Costa, IMPAC, Booker) that I figure I must have just been looking the other way those years (or something sigh). BTW, nice to see you here!
I’m so glad you enjoyed this one. Beautiful writing coupled with expert storytelling. I thought the ending was a triumph, too. His first novel, Ingenious Pain, is a long time favolurite for me.
Oh, his debut is definitely an interesting premise for a story. Given that his first book’s a longtime favourite, and you’ve been following him for so long, what do you feel (if anything) has changed about his writing along the way? Or, has it simply become “more” of what it already was? (Our library system has a single copy of his early novel; if I want to give it a go, I’ll have to do so on the sooner side!)
Andrew Miller and Rupert Thomas are both new to me writers. Thanks for posting upon them.
I’ve only read one by each author, and I would have a very hard time choosing which I think you would enjoy more. I think you would find the way that war exists in the background of both novels – with the foreground being about relationships and everyday life and artistry – very interesting.
Commenting to add the link to “A Life In Books”‘ review of Pain, which was kindly sent to me backchannel.