A Spaniard in the WorksI suppose you could say that not a lot happens in “All Souls”, but that would only be true if you don’t count looking, thinking, loving, remembering, even being:"Oxford is a city in syrup, where simply being is far more important than doing or even acting."Marias uses first person narration to tell his story, and for 210 pages I was firmly ensconced in the mind of this ostensibly charming man and lover, referred to (only once) as "the Spaniard".The closest analogies I can think of are Virginia Woolf’s "Mrs Dalloway" and Graham Greene's "The End of the Affair", although at one point I wondered about parallels with the works of Italo Calvino. This novel deserves a place high in this class of literature. Stream of ConsciencelessnessIt has almost become a cliché to refer to “stream of consciousness” in literary criticism, as if it is one easily identifiable practice. However, there is not one stream, but many, and they can be of different shapes and sizes.If "Mrs Dalloway" was a river that flowed inexorably from planning to party over the course of 24 hours, "All Souls" moves with the same intent, but covers a longer timespan. It is a recollection of what happens at an emotional level during a two year period while the narrator teaches translation in "that inhospitable city", Oxford.The adulterous affair failed to eventuate during the interval of "Mrs Dalloway". However, it supplies the framework for "All Souls", although it is by no means the sole focus of the novel.Just as Woolf didn’t seem to make any moral judgement of Clarissa, Marias doesn’t condemn the Spaniard or the object of his illicit desire, Clare (note the likeness of the first names of the protagonists). His version of stream of consciousness is less a stream of conscience than a stream of consciencelessness.We are hot wired into the narrator's libido via the thought processing of his ego, almost in circumvention of his superego. If You Don't Get Caught, Then Steal It AllWhile the affair is adulterous, only Clare Bayes breaks her marriage vows. The Spaniard is single at the time. Marias uses the word "usufruct" to describe the relationship. This is a term of Roman law that describes the distinction between ownership and use of (or benefit from) property.To the extent that a wife can be considered the property of a husband (which is an unfortunate condition of the metaphor), it suggests the possibility that the husband might "own" the tree that is the wife, but another man (or woman) might enjoy the fruit of the tree.The conjugal rights of the husband are compromised by the fructal rights of the rival suitor.This metaphor describes the relationship between the Spaniard and Clare’s husband. However, ultimately it is almost irrelevant to the principal concerns of the novel. What matters is the internal honesty and sincerity of the relationship between the two lovers.Somebody to LoveClare needs the Spaniard as much as he needs her. The Spaniard is looking for someone to love while he’s in Oxford: "This is just a stopping-off point for me but I’ll be stopping long enough to make it worth my while finding what people call 'someone to love'."Clare is looking for something more than what she has already via her marriage. There is never any suggestion that she will leave her husband or her son. The Spaniard must take Clare as she comes.Thus, it is inevitable that their relationship will be defined by the period our European traveller is stationed at All Souls College. In Clare’s eyes, the Spaniard would be a fool, if he didn’t accept his function and simply enjoy the relationship within its geographical and temporal constraints."All Souls" could almost be "Mrs Dalloway", reconceived from a male point of view, but with Clarissa/Clare in control.Doing a Post-Modern DanceThe novel uses a stream of consciousness technique to some extent. However, in reality, every sentence is perfectly composed, which makes for a fast, enjoyable reading experience.Nevertheless, Marias does play with both time and space.There is no linear narrative. It jumps all over the place. Insofar as its focus is Clare, it follows the eye, as if Marias had taken a photograph or painted a picture of her, and his description was simply following his eye as it moved around the image.Furtive Eavesdropping by and on the NarratorIn this respect, the mechanism of the novel depends on the narrator’s look, his view, his gaze, and what this reveals about his desire.Marias doesn't shy away from the indiscreet, the secret, the furtive. It is all revealed.Because the novel is a first person narrative, there is a lot of thinking (albeit relatively little "action"). Thus, one of its concerns is the relationship between thinking, looking and desire:"[Apart from Clare herself], the more I desire women the less prepared I am to think about them, I desire them without thinking about them at all...and I don’t know if that’s indicative of anything…apart from my general state of disequilibrium."Dislocation DanceThe novel is to some extent a fish out of water story. The Spaniard is outside his comfort zone:"Having always been in the world (having spent my life in the world), I suddenly found myself outside it, as if I’d been transplanted into another element..."Whereas at home he was a local, now he is a foreigner, an alien. He is an unknown quantity. He can’t be trusted and he can’t trust anybody else. Without witnesses (i.e., someone who has looked at him, observed, witnessed and authenticated him), he can have no provenance:"I’m a foreigner about whom no one knows or cares…That’s what really troubles me, leaving the world behind and having no previous existence in this world, there being no witness here to my continuity, to the fact that I haven’t always swum in this water."What is required to "fit in", to be "like" everybody else? Marias draws an analogy with Marco Polo staying in China for long enough to effectively become a "blue-eyed Chinaman".Paradoxically, it’s this geographical dislocation that allows the Spaniard to be liberated from his past and from future expectations in a temporal and moral sense.Temporal VertigoThe Spaniard’s time in Oxford is always defined. He has only two years before he has to leave. He knows this, as does Clare. Yet it is Clare who liberates him from the constraints of time, by virtue of her carefree approach to temporal demands.I love Marias’ description of her just lying around casually, languidly in bed:"She would lie on my bed or her bed or on a hotel bed and smoke and talk for hours, always with her skirt still on, but pulled up to reveal her thighs, the dark upper part of her tights or just her bare skin. "She was not circumspect in her gestures, often scorching them with the cigarette she waved around with an abandon uncommon in England (and learned perhaps in the southern lands of her childhood), a gesture accompanied by the tinkling of various bracelets adorning her forearms, bracelets she sometimes neglected to take off (it was little wonder that sometimes real sparks flew from them). "Everything about her was expansive, excessive, excitable; she was one of those beings not made for time, for whom the very notion of time and its passing is a grievance, and one of those beings in need of a constant supply of fragments of eternity or, to put it another way, of a bottomless well of detail with which to fill time to the brim."What could compose and relax a man more than to be propped up on a pillow next to this woman?An Erotic Corollary to Parkinson's LawStill, what Clare seems to do is to disregard time, so much so that she seems to expand to fill the time available. While she is alive, time is of no concern, there is only her and what she is doing in that time.Her response to the demands of time is to be “careless and frivolous and smiling and forgetful..."In her arms, time and pleasure perpetuates into infinity and eternity:"That night we were free to eternalize the contents of our time, or enjoy the illusion that we did so, and that’s why there was no hurry..."Verbal InventionWhen we first meet the Spaniard, he is flirtatious and playful and inventive, almost Nabokovian, in the way he fabricates meanings for words that don’t exist or that deserve a better meaning:"My crazy etymologies were no more nonsensical, no less likely than the real ones...when true knowledge proves irrelevant, one is free to invent." So, his Spanish background having become irrelevant, he is free to improvise.This improvisation, of course, is in the nature of sexual flirtation as well.Glimpses and Snippets and SkirtsThis is when Marias’ prose becomes most enjoyable and lyrical and assonant (note the tinkles and winkles and glimpses and snippets and skirts), and most of it is directed at what the Spaniard sees and hears:"The consequent tinkle of fine crystal.""The whole of Oxford is fully and continuously engaged in concealing and suppressing itself whilst at the same time trying to winkle out as much information as possible about other people...""The tinkling of various bracelets." "Just the glimpse of bracelet""Snippets of her comments""I was too intent on observing the wary flappings of her skirt."Then there's his more overtly erotic observations:"Clare’s breasts combine their two colours very subtly, like the transition from apricot to hazel."The Spaniards eyes and ears take it all in. He processes what he sees and eroticises the "contents of our time" together. He assembles "fragments of eternity" in his mind. Then, by virtue of turning them into literature, like Proust and Nabokov, Marias "eternalises" them for our consumption and enjoyment.The Tale of a Blind Man Without a Seeing Eye CockLike most men, the Spaniard is driven by his libido, a joint venture between his eyes, his mind, his mouth, his ears and his penis.According to his own account, his eyes are vigilant and compassionate. What he sees, he thinks about. Some of what he thinks about, he talks about. Some of what he thinks and talks about, he desires. Unless he sees, unless he thinks, unless he talks, he cannot desire:"I can’t let myself have all this time at my disposal and not have someone to think about, because if I do that, if I think only about things rather than about another person, if I fail to live out my sojourn and my life here in conflict with another being or in expectation or anticipation of that, I’ll end up thinking about nothing, as bored by my surroundings as by any thoughts that might arise in me."At the heart of his desire is his vision, his sight, looking, watching, observing, witnessing, gazing.You can see the influence of Continental Philosophy on Marias’ fiction. However, he also brings a [vulgar male] sense of humor to the novel:"When I go to bed with Clare [I miss] that my cock has no eye, no vision, no gaze that can see as it approaches or enters her vagina."High Table Fidelity and Thoughtless InfidelityTwo libidos are at work here, and in view of Clare’s marital status, it involves an infidelity.Marias discusses infidelity in two contexts, one general and definitional, the other personal to the three people involved.Of fidelity and infidelity, Marias says:"Fidelity (the name given to the constancy and exclusivity with which one particular sex organ penetrates or is penetrated by another particular sex organ, or abstains from being penetrated by or penetrating others) is mainly the product of habit, as is its so-called opposite, infidelity (the name given to inconstancy and change, and the enjoyment of more than one sex organ.)"This discussion is almost wholly genital and masculine in orientation (for all its attempt to be reciprocal in terms of penetrating or being penetrated, I wonder how women relate to this genital analysis?).Only a Fool Would Say ThatOn the other hand, Marias presents the relationship between the Spaniard and Clare (from her point of view) in terms of the relative ability of the two males in her life to deal with real physical and emotional demands, regardless of intellectual and moral considerations:"You’re a fool. Fortunately, though, you’re not my husband. You’re a fool with the mind of a detective, and being married to that kind of fool would make life impossible. "That’s why you will never get married. A fool with the mind of a detective is an intelligent fool, a logical fool, the worst kind, because men’s logic, far from compensating for their foolishness, only duplicates it, triplicates it, makes it dangerous. "Ted’s brand of foolishness isn’t dangerous and that’s why I can live with him. He just takes it for granted, you don’t yet. You’re such a fool that you still believe in the possibility of not being one. You still struggle. He doesn’t."Perhaps our ability to think, to reason, to intellectualise, particularly in the academic context of Oxford, blinds us to the reality that, as Clare continues, "we are all fools". Save What You CanSo it is that Clare, who has the greatest ability of the protagonists to deal with the relative vagaries of space and time, is able to dictate (it must be wrong to say "rationalise"?) the basis upon which she deals with the men in her life.While the narrator is a male, this is very much a tale where the female is in control.However, given that the novel was written by a male, there must be a lingering question as to whether Clare is just a figment of a libidinous male’s imagination.I can only say that, as a male, I found the novel thoughtful, intelligent, insightful, eloquent, poignant, playful, erotic and funny.SOUNDTRACK:The Triffids – "Save What You Can"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jFzGF-..."Time is against us, even love conspires to disgrace usAnd with things being what they are ...Yes and things being what they areOh my friend, we used to walk in the flamesNow somebody's taken my armsThe shadows are taller. You're missing your haloWith your face in the half-light, you look like a strangerYou made me catch my breath just thenYou made me catch my breathIs that you... is that still you?If you cannot run, then crawlIf you can leave, then leave it allIf you don't get caught, then steal it allIf you don't get caught, then steal it allSteal it allThe final time we touchI watch as you enter the churchYou turn and you wave, then you kneel and you prayAnd you save of yourself what you can saveIf you cannot run, then crawlIf you can leave, then leave it allIf you don't get caught, then steal it allIf you don't get caught, then steal it allSteal it allAnd between ourselves, and the end at hand,Save what you can"David McComb: "I Want To Conquer You"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SoxGK_..."We have so little timeAnd we have so many pains,These days it's frighteningMy dear how swiftly love wanes."Angie Hart: "I Want To Conquer You"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5YQik...The Triffids – "A Trick Of The Light"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgtRBL...David McComb – "Setting You Free"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00QCFF...The Blackeyed Susans – "Ocean Of You"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5L2PZT...The Blackeyed Susans – "Every Gentle Soul" (from the album "All Souls Alive")http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MyZtTH..."Every gentle soul that passes me byI have to close my eyesAnd hope their gentle smile survivesHope that their footsteps don't follow mineThere ought to be a lawThere should be a placeThat they can send you toTo take my mind off your face."The Triffids - "The Seabirds"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOWUci...The Mutton Birds – "Anchor Me"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPIhhq...Jefferson Airplane - "Somebody to Love" (Live 1969, with David Crosby)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUxRgU...Simple Minds – "Theme For Great Cities"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBSotx...
The contemporary Spanish novelist Javier Maríes published Todas las lamas in 1989. His protagonist and first person narrator is a Madrid professor who teaches at Oxford University in England for two years, the novel’s title (translated in its English edition as All Souls) referring not only to All Soul’s College at Oxford but also to all the people the narrator encounters there, both living and dead.The narrator lives a somewhat isolated existence during those two years, an existence as an essential outsider with few teaching responsibilities, free to follow his interests and whims, all the time observing carefully the patterns, individuals, and rituals going on around him. He develops a few close friendships, notably with Cromer-Blake, another professor, and also with Clare Bayes, another teacher and the wife of another Oxford Don. It is with Clare that the narrator has a rather desultory affair during his stay in England, an affair that does not last beyond his two years there. In fact, the story is told from the narrator’s perspective some time after his return to Madrid. The tone of the work is gently witty and also tinged with sadness, no rigorous plot carrying the narration forward. Rather the interest lies in the frequent digressions, the observations, and the hobbies that the narrator pursues in part to keep himself occupied. The reader is treated to descriptions of the unchanging rituals of the Oxford dons and their stereotypical behaviors, for example, at high table as they eat as guests of each other at their individual colleges, performances during which they reveal as little about themselves as possible while trying to impress each other maximally. Hints that the narrator picks up about various colleagues become fleshed out over time as he encounters each individual in other settings – in a used book store, during private conversations, at a disco club. During his time in Oxford he decides to pursue the acquisition of used books written by or about real life shadowy figures who have died, one in particular being Terry Armstrong, aka John Gawsworth, an enigmatic adventurer who, inter alia, becomes king of the tiny uninhabited island of Redondo in the Caribbean. This pursuit leads to his meeting with odd booksellers and other individuals involved in the rare book trade, all of them colorful and unforgettable. Many of these threads begin to come together near the novel’s end, but the fascination of the work lies more in its ambiance and philosophical musings than in any specific plot structure. Time is fluid in this narration, frequently moving forward and backward, often over periods of years far beyond the two years of residence in Oxford.Marías is a masterful writer, spellbinding in his narration and ability to balance tone and character. Dialogues are wonderfully constructed, and the gradual unfolding of understanding contrasts with the emergence of continual ambiguities such that the work is true to life, without easy conclusions or tidy endings. The book was thrilling to read, and I am eager to read more from this enthralling writer.
Do You like book All Souls (1996)?
I like to take recommendations from friends, read their favourite authors, then prove them illiterate schlemiels by showing how much better Gilbert Sorrentino and Lucy Ellmann are at writing things. Then I laugh at them. Hahahaha, I go. You FOOLS! Hahahahaha. OK, no I don’t. On this occasion, Mike’s recommendation was valorous and astute.He was absolutely right in saying Marías is the middle point between Bolaño and Sebald (or words to that effect). Combining the long unspooling sentences of the big Bolaño books, and the meandering metaphysics found in Sebald, Marías has written a unique, maddening and hilarious book at the classiest end of so-called lit-fic.The narrator is a haughty Spanish don visiting at Oxford who gets tangled in an affair with a co-academic. OK, that sounds intolerable, but honestly, like On Beauty, it’s really quite beautiful. Marías favours laborious passages of lyrical musing and old-time wit, often straying into Henry James territory with the ponderousnessness of it all, but it’s mainly exquisite. Here’s Mike’s review. Let him take over.
—MJ Nicholls
Beautifully written. The plot is thin but Marias' prose managed to make this very engaging. I particularly liked the way he interjected the thoughts going on inside his characters' minds. I've seen this technique in many other great works the last being Hilary Mantel's Bring Up the Bodies (5 stars). However, that book has a thick and historical plot so that is its advantage. This book, All Souls has only an illicit affair on Oxford (yes, that famous school for the rich and brainy kids) hallowed ground and rooms and anywhere the lovers - the narrator and Clare - find themselves alone.This also has a fresh approach to adultery. The doomed relationship is not dramatic as Romeo-Juliet or Anna Karenina-Alexie Vronsky. In fact, most of the time, Clare is cold and stiff in dealing with her lover and it looks like, particularly at the beginning, that she is just after sex. The setting of the story being the Oxford brought back the memories of watching Ryan O'Neal and Ali McGraw in the 1970 hit movie, Love Story (3 stars). However, the setting being that of another prestigious school, is the only similarity between the two. This book is neither mushy nor tearjerker. It is also not a soft porn or a romance.I know that I am not making a lot of sense by describing a book by saying what it is not rather that what it is. Just take this from me: this is my first Marias book and I was in awe reading how great he intricately puts his words together. There are many good reviews already written here on Goodreads like those of my brother's and my friend Mike's. This is my first time to ride on other people's reviews but I think they both expressed perfectly what I wanted to say.Thank you, Javier Marias, for your very nice book. Makes me what to ask myself why I am not having an extra-marital affair when it could be this "beautiful" LOL.
—K.D. Absolutely
Superb, probably one of the best books I have read this year. In a deliciously gossipy manner Maria's draws the reader into the ludicrously eliteist world of Oxford and the Dons. The narrator like Maras himself was a visiting lecturer at Oxford for two years and as such ruthlessly dissects the rather esoteric codes and customs of the much revered place. His description of the protocol of High Table is particularly memorable. This is an emotional novel full of fluctuating passions both hilariously funny and acutely poignant. It is overall I think a novel about death and change and the unreliable nature of memory which is mercurial and elides and conflates as one looks back from differing perspectives. Sometimes it reminded me of Robertson Davies at his best, but Maras puts a lot more emotion on the bones. Great stuff.
—Lynda
