I have just finished reading this rather marvellous book and wish to write about it while the impression and feelings I am experiencing are still fresh in my mind. It is Easter Sunday and as I awoke at 6 am with the sun shining in the window and I am all alone, but not lonely, in my little apartment, I decided to finish off this latest Margaret Forster which I had to put down last night when sleep overcame me.
The reason I mentioned being alone and not lonely, is because this book tells the story of a painting, how it came to be painted by a woman living alone in an attic room in Paris and its adventures, the various people who come to own it and the one thing they have in common - they like and wish to be alone, to keep their separateness, their own personality. None of these women are in any way reclusive or selfish, they have relationships, they have friends, they have family, but ultimately realise that they are happy alone.
The painting is by Gwen John, a British painter who died in 1939, sister of Augustus John. I had heard of them but know very little (there is a bibliography at the back of this book and, alas, I now feel that a Gwen John read is coming on). Apparently "Her choice of subject-matter throughout her career remained based on the figure - usually a single figure, and usually a woman in an interior". I have tracked down an image of the painting used as the focal point in this book and according to the note attached to it:
"The empty chair, discarded clothes and open book suggest the artist's invisible presence, and the painting conveys much about her life, a sense of controlled passion, of order, quiet and absolute calm"
The story opens with a young art student, Gillian, viewing a painting in a gallery and wondering about its history. Not the history in a catalogue or book, but its domestic history. Who had owned it? What were the feelings of the people who had hung it on its walls, had they appreciated it or taken it for granted? This is a very intriguing thought. It is well known that Van Gogh never sold any of his painting while he was alive so one assumes they were in a corner unappreciated and ignored. He gave paintings away in settlement of tradesman's bills or just to free up some space in his studio, so what did the recipients think of them? I look at my print of the Yellow Room or Sunflowers and while I love them (Van Gogh is my favourite painter), I am not sure that any recipients of any of his paintings felt that here was a work of genius. They were probably propped up on the mantelpiece or forgotten or used as a doorstop or something of that kind. Would I recognise such a painting if given to me - I very much doubt it.
Margaret Forster has woven a simply wonderful story around this painting. Her last novel Diary of an Ordinary Woman, I found slightly disconcerting as at first appearance it appears a non-fiction book, but then discovered it was not. It had the same mixture of reality and fiction as Keeping the World Away but this time I had no problem with it.
I have been reading Margaret Forster for some forty years now and I think this is her best book yet. I daresay this is because I feel a connection with all the women in this story and understand their feelings which is, of course, is what a book is meant to do, engage the reader and make them feel that the author understands them perfectly. I had hesitated buying it when it was first published, but could not resist it when I came across the paperback last week. I am very glad I picked it up. So far, one of my books of the year.
"It has a history. I don't know what it is, but something is there, more than the paint on the canvas. Don't you think so? Don't artists want to put more than the paint on the canvas?"
