Susie Boyt

Reminder: I do not write 'reviews' - I write what the book made me think about or feel or whatever.

A study, in a way, of four generations of single mothers with one child, a daughter. A landscape devoid of men in any intimate way--which in my view is not all that significant in terms of what Boyt is driving at. For all the supposed 'norm' we all cling to, the truth is, so many families, like this one ARE the norm because there is no norm. (One could say the same for all men dyad families, show more btw and any other combo you want to think up). The protagonist, Ruth, is the second of the four generations and is daughter (through memory here) /mother/grandmother. I think what emerged for me were two major threads -- one that such families are incredibly fragile -- if one person 'leaves' (literally through death or refusing to be part of the pair) the whole thing falls apart, both people are left untethered; in that vein it is also all too easy for one person to overwhelm the other with need. At the core of 'why' Boyt seems to be calmly demonstrating that at the core of how some thrive and some do not is emotional resilience- the grandchild 'kidnapped' (not really) and raised by her grandmother is just such a person: born inherently resilient. I've read of studies about resilience -- that in the same family children who experience almost identical trauma and then receive the same care, do not recover similarly. Some move on, some are destroyed -- most are probably somewhere in between. In a family this small, consequences of even smaller losses and problems, are magnified, in a larger one I suspect that those 'in-between' can be greatly helped if they have supportive family members and feel loved. At the core is a mystery, a painful one at that. I could go on and on but I'll stop and say that Boyt weaves the story beautifully, some recollections here, the present moment there . . . much wit as well, often very wry. Much is left opaque and unsaid. A painful read but worthwhile ***** show less

The Small Hours opens with 38-year-old Harriet Mansfield taking leave of her Kleinian psychoanalyst of many years, announcing to her that, now armed with self-understanding and the ability to confidently self-parent, she will be opening up a nursery school for three- and four-year-old girls. Her aloof and chilly banker father has recently died and left her one-third of his sizeable estate. The other two-thirds have gone to Harriet’s brother, Colin, and their mother, who lives in France. show more Harriet is estranged from both. Initially, the reader is led to believe—through the novel’s limited third-person point-of-view perspective, focusing on Harriet’s thoughts, emotions, perceptions, and actions—that they may have good reason. The therapist is also decidedly muted in her response to Harriet’s ambitious plan.

The initial unnumbered chapters written in sparkling, comedic, almost manic prose led me to believe I was getting a clever and ironic book. Harriet seems a larger-than-life, over-the-top figure of mockery. She’s a kind of Amazon, red-haired and over six-feet tall. Even Harriet believes she’s too much. However, she is not entirely blind to others’ negative assessment of her. In time, it emerges that Harriet is fuelled not just by idealism but also by a determination to provide children with what she herself so sadly lacked. Boyt gives the reader an idea of some of what Harriet endured early in life by producing brief and skilfully rendered excerpts of her protagonist’s teenage diaries, Harriet, it turns out, has been through a great deal. If anything, her observations about her childhood, her upbeat “affirmations”, and her ideas for self-help book titles and chapters belie her actual early-life experience.

Much of the latter third of the novel hinges on Harriet’s mother’s visit to London for medical tests. It seems she may be very ill. Will this contact lead to reconciliation?

I was absorbed, impressed, and moved by Boyt’s novel, the first I’ve read by her. The prose is wonderful and varied. I am looking forward to her new book, Loved and Missed, which is due to be released soon. show less

What a heartrending read; this intense but witty novel isn't for those who need a cheerful uplift. Ruth is struggling to maintain any sort of connection to her grown daughter, Eleanor, who is addicted to drugs & drifting through living arrangements with other addicts. She has a baby girl, Lily, and Ruth manages to get Eleanor, the baby and Ben, the father to join her to hold a baby christening at a local church - this event is described from several angles, reverent at times, exasperating, show more fraught with tension & awkward social moments. Eventually Ruth sees Eleanor cannot, will not, care for Lily (Ben is gone, apparently forever) and takes her home with her. Ruth continues to work as a teacher, and has the support of several friends -all sympathetic but helpless to alleviate Ruth's heartache from her daughter's alienation- as she raises Lily. Ruth is grateful for Lily's love - and marvels at the opportunity to build another daughter-mother bond "Love without fear is a new feeling for her, almost unrecognizable. Will it last?" (review) As the story of their years together unspools, the author shifts us into Ruth's past: her strong ties to her mom, who raised her without her father when he simply up and left; her happy times raising Eleanor-until she turned 15 and turned against her mother so sharply, Ruth was left helpless; her secret liasions with a friend's ex-husband that results in Eleanor. Never read a novel in which the writer can describe the almost unexplainable intensity of a mother for a child, and vice versa, in such beautiful prose. The pain & longing Ruth endures for her grown daughter, now choosing to sever all ties, is complex and real. Slow going but the insights into human psyche, and the interactions both casual and serious between all the other characters - the mild mannered priest, Ruth's various friends (since teenage yrs), but especially her strengthening friendship with a fellow teacher, Jean, who is also single, popular with the students, fearless in her willingness to say anything, fiercely loyal and helpful, and of course Lily, the granddaughter who is 15 by novel's end. Each character portrait is developed with insight and sympathy - show less

Honestly, I don't remember how I stumbled upon this book, but I'm fortunate that this book found me somehow. The blurb wasn't entirely convincing when I first read it – estranged single mother and daughter, the upbringing of the granddaughter as a form of penance, and a drug addiction that overcasts the entire story. Oh, how wrong I was! This is such an endearing, intimate, moving novel about motherhood with a side of friendship.

Ruth, the single mother and grandmother, works as a school show more teacher and is regarded as a lovely and supportive teacher by her students. She pours all the more affection into her daughter, Eleanor, only to be met with resentment that manifests as addiction. Boyt never explicitly described Eleanor's addiction in grotesque details, yet it inextricably weaves in and out of Ruth and Lily's lives. Except for Ruth's final moments, where Eleanor shows up after Lily's imploration, she exists like a ghost who's remembered but has ceased to exist.

The emotions and love between Ruth and Lily also transcend that of a normal grandmother-granddaughter relationship. Lily's upbringing was almost like a wound healed to Ruth's seemingly failed parenting of her own daughter. The cautious tiptoeing of what's too much and what's just enough remained so delicate, so fragile that I fear the same mistakes being committed twice. Thankfully, that didn't happen. Quite the opposite, Lily grew up mature, thoughtful, and understanding of the implications of her mother's addiction. She's always extended hope even when no one else in her position likely would have. show less