Disclaimer: It has been quite a while since I've attempted a book review—not that anyone might have noticed—but if you should happen to stumble upon this particular review in the middle of the night or during one of your drunken internet adventures, please know that my critical faculties are rusty and not to be trusted by serious readers—that is to say, those persons who sit down to read books seriously, with stern faces and pious intentions. My reading disposition has changed over the years and may not be in sync with yours. It's nothing to get in a knot about, of course, but I want the conscientious reader to be wary: I am a heathen.Muriel Spark's Memento Mori was a 'So What?' book for me. (Let me explain what that means before you fly into a rage; you may still wish to fly into a rage later, but you should at least be sure where your rage is directed.) A 'So What?' book is a book that is pleasant enough to read (by which I don't mean that the subject matter is necessarily pleasant, but only that the reading experience is itself pleasant) but whose point somehow eludes me. I should add here—in this review that's already chockfull of caveats, disclaimers, and asides—that I am not a fan of seeking a 'point' in art, be it painting or music or film or books or whatever. I'm using the word 'point' here as a unfortunately misleading abbreviation for what I actually mean: After I was finished reading Memento Mori, I was left wondering why Muriel Spark had bothered to the tell this story to us (i.e., me). I didn't 'get' anything out of it. It was (approximately) like drinking a very, very, very dry wine: it was enjoyable enough in the moment of consumption, but it didn't leave any taste (or taste memory) with me after it was gone. It was consumed and it disappeared. I suppose the idiom 'water off a duck's back' comes to mind—but that's often used for insults and the like. Spark's book was far from insulting; it was, rather, unaffecting.Correction: It was unaffecting for me. Yes, I realize that's implied with any opinion (right?), but I'll add it anyway as a gesture of good will to those who were affected by this novel about a group of elderly friends, relations, and mere acquaintances who begin to receive phone calls warning them to 'remember you will die.' Each of them reacts to the calls differently: some are terrorized by them; some are curious; and other are simply annoyed. None of them seems to take the caller's advice, however. While they do in fact remember that death will inevitably befall them, they are concerned with it more so as a practical matter. Wills must be drafted, and professional care must be sought for the infirm and mentally incapacitated. But the importance of the calls as an existential reminder is entirely lost on them all, as they carry on with their deceptions, grudge-holding, and overall pettiness. Their agedness and failing health doesn't appear to give their lives any additional weight. (I guess the question we should ask at this point is whether it should. The existentialists would surely say yes, but we are not beholden to their answer. Many people seem to live their lives both practically and superficially, and they don't seem to regret it on the deathbed.)But to the point: I don't understand what Spark wanted me to get out of this. Am I the reader supposed to be reminded that I will die? If so, this book is preaching to the choir—which doesn't of course mean it's not a viable theme for novel, but only that the way it is expressed left me looking around the room and asking, 'Okay... What's next?' When the last word on the page was gone, the book itself was gone. I had to make an effort to re-think about it for this review because it didn't really leave me with any lasting impressions, feelings, or ideas.
This week’s headline? quoth the raven…Why this book? cleansing the paletteWhich book format? awesome used copyPrimary reading environment? absent-minded free timeAny preconceived notions? she was prolificIdentify most with? Charmian (pronounced Kar-mee-un)Three little words? “intimations of immortality”Goes well with? oirish breakfast teaHere’s where I deviate from the prescribed English major path.I know there are people who study Muriel Spark. The Editors’ Preface to this edition of the book implies as much. So does the Introduction by V.S. Pritchett.I just can’t help but think of her as simply a talented writer from a time gone by.Sorry guys. Maybe it’s because I’m not British, or I don’t know enough about her life, but this is the second Muriel Spark book I’ve read, and I really consider her more along the lines of Joyce Carol Oates or even Sue Monk Kidd: it ain’t chick lit, and it ain’t thriller, so we’ll label it “literary fiction.” Except this happened half a century ago in England, so now people are required to study it and make it into high-brow LITERATURE.I keep thinking of Girl, 20, a Kingsley Amis book I bought in Greenwich (the one in England) because I was a 20-year-old girl at the time and I thought the cartoon human on the cover was funny (which is also pretty much the reason I bought Memento Mori).I didn’t connect to that book either. It was all about head-banging classical music fusion and going out to these newfangled places called “discotheques.” Somewhere in there, obviously, there was a point, but it was lost on me.And I don’t care enough to go digging for deeper meaning. In that introduction, Pritchett writes something pretty clever about Donne’s bell – tolling for all to hear – being replaced in Spark’s novel by the isolated ringing of a personal telephone, which is pretty eerie to think about in the smart phone age, but I didn’t really take it that far.I was just amused by two geriatric men of letters actually dueling with their walking sticks.Other cultural accompaniments: Girl, 20 by Kingsley Amis, The Girls of Slender Means by Muriel Spark, What I Lived For by Joyce Carol Oates, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (2008), http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/..., Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998).Grade: BI leave you with this: As long as I live, I don’t think I will ever understand the ritual of tea time. It seems that no matter how poor, how infirm, how haunted by the voice of Death itself, the English will always have time for tea.
Do You like book Memento Mori (2000)?
How many books exist with a cast almost entirely of people 70 years or older? One? Two? This book is an achievement--it's a casually hilarious novel. Spark doesn't revel in her own cleverness, call attention to how smart she is, or resort to anything too absurd or too precious for the world that she has invented. Instead, she is just damned funny, and a genius at writing dialogue to boot. Her phrasing doesn't feel worried-over, it feels fresh and light, which is perfect, considering that: It's a comedy--but about death, which might be the best topic for a comic novel ever. I see that some people have said in their reviews of this book that it's sad--a statement that most certainly comes from their own ideas of death rather than the novel itself. A comedy is a kind of celebration of life--which is exactly what this novel is--the crazy, intertwined, frequently hilarious lives of people who must come to terms with their own deaths. This definitely goes on my list of Favorite Novels.
—Rebecca
Always amazes me when I can agree with both the five star and two star reviews. I liked this book for its tone and what one reviewer labeled the "economy" of Spark's writing. As a matter of craft, she is probably a genious for so seamlessly weaving so many quirky characters and sublots through such a cohesive, cleverly-written vehicle. For that talent alone, she deserves five stars.But the story itself fell just a bit flat for me. I didn't especially care about any of the characters; I found them mostly unlikeable, and not compelling enough to counterbalance their individual and collective self-centeredness. There were so many old, failing, privileged characters who harbored gripes and held grudges against so many others that I, with my own fuzzy brain, found it hard to keep them all straight.A good friend of mine really liked this book, so I wanted to like it, too. And I did--but as an academic exercise in appreciating Spark's fine writing. But the book failed to deliver an emotional punch (unlike several other reviewers, I did not find it especially humorous, either), nor did it make me think or grow in any way. And this despite what promised to be a most compelling "hook"--the notion that we all need to be reminded of our own inevitable mortality.
—Sheryl Sorrentino
Well this was an interesting and unusual novel...I wanted to read something by Muriel Spark, considered by many literary critics/experts as one of the finest writers of her generation - mid-20th century for the most part - and author of 'The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.' So I read 'Memento Mori,' which translates into: Remember you must die.And this is what several of the characters hear an anonymous caller tell them, on the phone. (This was written in 1958 when Muriel Spark was in her early forties.) Almost all the characters are over seventy years of age, and it's amazing to me that Spark was able to write so succinctly and astutely about people aged seventy and above. But she does. Some of the characters suffer from dementia; others are just cranky, but the range of personalities is amazing; it's as if Spark might have known many elderly people herself, or visited nursing homes and taken copious, detailed notes. Whatever, or however she did it, the writing is amazing. The dialogue is crisp, realistic, almost perfect.The story revolves around several of the characters who have a 'history' with one another. They are related, or related through marriage, or were (or are) former lovers. The interplay between them is fascinating as they live in the present, (continuing to see each another socially), and in the past which they all intimately shared. One is a famous writer suffering from dementia which comes and goes. Another is a maid/companion who is blackmailing some of the characters because she's learned, or witnessed, certain secrets they have. Another is a former police inspector; still another is an elderly fellow who keeps detailed notes on how his elderly friends react to certain circumstances. For example, he wants them to write down how they feel, or what their temperature is, before and after learning bad news. I will admit the plot is rather thin, and there's no huge 'mystery' here, but the story, centering on a group of older people and how they hang onto life - and envision their futures, which many know will be short - was an interesting, and fairly quick read. However, not the book for everyone, or for anyone who prefers a more 'modern' novel. But as an authentic psychological study of people living in the late 1950's who are constantly being reminded of their mortality, it's a small gem.
—Jaksen
