The Red House

Angela, a woman who feels put upon by having to care for her dying mother, is married to Dominic, who is a bit of a slacker job-wise. Their three children are in various stages of growing-up; daughter Daisy is of particular concern because she's recently found Jesus. Richard, an slightly rigid overachiever, is married to Louisa, a woman with a past. Louisa's daughter Melissa is a bit of a handful. Angela and Richard are siblings who are semi-estranged. When their mother passes away, Richard gets the brilliant idea to invite Angela and her family on a week's holiday in the country. When the two families get together is becomes apparent how estranged everybody is from each other - even within the same family unit.

Overall, these people show more are not the group you'd choose to spend your vacation with. They are prickly and flawed. They aren't even particularly nice. But they are interesting, and do mostly learn a bit about each other and themselves during their week together. If you want a nice happy family story, The Red House isn't for you. But if you like and understand various forms of dysfunction in your family dynamics, I'd recommend this book. show less

Mark Haddon's latest book the Red House is a stream of consciousness novel about two contemporary family of Brits spending a week of vacation together in a house in the English Countryside. At the center is Richard, a doctor and his sister Angela who have some unfinished business at the recent passing of their mother. Each brings to the house their respective spouses and children--three of the four being teens. Put them all together under one roof, each with their own secrets, have them interact and see what happens. Haddon is most famous for his last book--the Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a book written from the point of view of an autistic boy who solves a mystery. That book I loved--this one was a bit of a chore. I show more started it last June but put it down for several months because it requires a more slow read. I had a hard time tracking the characters and who was speaking or thinking at any time. This is that dang stream of consciousness which I've never been a big fan of--apologies to Virginia Woolf fans. There are times when his prose is brilliant and poetic. He can take you from that contemporary setting back across years in one descriptive paragraph such as this one describing the house: "The Red House, a Romano-British farmstead abandoned, ruined, plundered for stone, built over, burnt and rebuilt. Tenant farmers, underlings of Marcher lords, a pregnant daughter hidden in the hills, a man who put a musket in his mouth in front of his wife and sprayed half his head across the kitchen wall, a drunken priest who lost the house in a bet over a horse race, or so they said, though they are long gone. Two brass spoons under the floorboards. a 20,000-reichsmark banknote. Letters from Florence cross-written to save paper, now brown and frail and crumpled to pack a wall. Brother, my Lungs are not Goode...." That paragraph made me pick up the book again and hang in there. There are more passages like that and they made the book worth reading when they surfaced. show less

In the wake of their mother’s death, two estranged adult siblings spend a week vacationing together with their respective families in the English countryside. Told from alternating perspectives, The Red House explores the personal isolation that buffers people in even the most intimate of relationships.

Few of the interpersonal revelations in this story are particularly unique. Husbands and wives are disenchanted with each other; brothers and sisters are misunderstood and grieve lost intimacy. But perhaps these familial revelations aren’t so much the author’s point. What sets The Red House apart is Haddon’s stylistic approach. His story unfolds among the characters’ frequently alternating perspectives; shifting sometimes as show more often as three or four times per page. Confusing? Not really. This is where the author’s prodigious skills are exercised – Haddon successfully manages this literary “channel surfing”. Each character in the novel has his or her story and distinct voice, and the reader has a uniquely omniscient reading experience.

Overall, I enjoyed this book: the setting, Haddon’s skillful writing, and his subtle yet universal familial themes. show less

Richard and Angela, estranged siblings who have just lost their mother, bring their tense nuclear families to a cottage in the Welch countryside for a week-long holiday. Typical family discord fare, but Haddon tackles the interpersonal and intra-personal landscape with a challenging narrative technique: each new paragraph is narrated from a different character's point of view. This requires concentration as the reader is getting to know the characters and I found it rather distracting for the first third of the novel. Once I felt like I had the cast of characters straight, I found the technique interesting; it creates a choppy and disconnected pace that mirrors the dysfunction of the characters' relationships. This novel is all about show more relationships and only one character emerges as anyone I'd want to get to know better (Alex has promise but he also has too much teenage boy about him for me to want to spend time in his company). If you tend to like novels with likable characters, this one may not be for you, but Haddon's wry humor and his merciless depiction of people trying to establish connection and feel like their lives matter won me over in the end. show less

While I seem to be in the minority given previously posted reviews, I must admit that I really liked this book. It tells the story of an estranged brother and sister who, with their families, spend a week together on vacation in Wales.

So much happens in these characters' minds and hearts! We see a brother and sister who grew up together, but have such different recollections of their childhood and their parents. Young adults struggling with their sexuality. Spouses struggling with the state of their marriages. All while trying to relax and enjoy time together away from the pressures of work and home.

Mark Haddon shows real skill in the writing style he employed. Every chapter contains short sections from the point of view of every show more character. Sometimes in conversation; others times their thoughts. And thoughts wander, and maybe aren't related to what's going on at the moment. Mr. Haddon pulls this off without confusing the reader. The glimpses of the internal lives of the characters helped me to identify with them; like the say about icebergs, 90% is below the surface.

This book, like Curious Incident, had strong character voice(s) -- something I really like about Mr. Haddon's writing. show less

There's a brief scene in this novel where several characters are trying to asssemble a puzzle, with some frustration and not much success. One possible "like it or hate it" outcome of this novel is that you'll feel the same way-- too many jumbled pieces, no coherent overall picture.

Haddon writes the novel from eight points of view (the eight characters in the novel) in short bursts of dialogue, interior and exterior, ranging from a paragraph to about three pages apiece. People briefly connect (rarely), more often collide, deflect, dissemble, outright lie (to themselves and to others). Misdirection is the name of the game. Feelings and emotions are buried and left to seethe. Unhealthy atmosphere for a family vacation and ideal setup to show more show how massively one family can be dysfunctional? You bet.

The key to reading this novel is tenacity, not to skim over the brief brusts of text and to work hard at assembling the fragments (the "puzzle pieces") into, if not a satisfying whole, than at least something loosely linked together to give an overall idea of how families work and do not work together. I'm not sure that Haddon ever quite does pull of the trick, in the end, of putting the puzzle pieces into what's shown on the box, but I do think we come up with at least a reasonably satisfying hazy, shifting concept of what it means to be a family. No perfection is achieved, no resolutions are arrived at, no ends are tidly put away, but that's okay.

I'll admit I did end the novel feeling a little unsatisfied, not because I wanted a happy ending or because I was invested in narrative resolution, but simply because Haddon seemed only to reinforce the point that "things are basically still jumbled and problematic" with no real forward thrust in the novel beyond that basic idea. There is character development, yes, but I'm not sure how far it takes us in terms of working through ideas in the novel so much as it's just stating the same ideas over and over (this is true to varying degrees, depending on the character in question).

My advice would be to take this one slowly and not to be tempted to rush by the rapidly-shifting points of view; it looks deceptively like a quick read, but to make it one would be to sell it short. Mull over it and turn the core ideas over in your mind and try to see beyond the fragments; it may not be a picture that Haddon wants you to see at all, but this may be the most interesting idea of all. show less

The plot is simple. Richard, a radiologist, rents a holiday house in the Welsh countryside with his wife Louisa and his stepdaughter Melissa. Richard invites his sister Angela, her husband Dominic, and their three children (Alex, Daisy, and Benjy) to join them. The duration of the novel is the one week of the family vacation, each day being given a separate chapter.

Not much happens; there are no dramatic events. The focus is on the inner lives of characters. The point of view constantly alternates among the eight characters. The book is written in varying degrees of stream-of-consciousness/dramatic monologue style combined with excerpts from books being read, snippets of lyrics of music being listened to, and seemingly random show more lists.

Because of the constantly shifting point of view, the reader gradually gets to know each character as an individual and what is really important to him/her. Secrets, anxieties, insecurities, motivations, regrets, and desires are revealed. It is this character development that is the novel’s tour de force. The author has a real talent for “peeling back those layers” (24) and revealing the person “under the veneer” (32). Often it is seemingly small observations that reveal so much. When Dominic enthuses about the amazing view at the cottage, Richard responds, “You’re welcome” (25). Those two words say so much about Richard’s personality. When he meets Louisa’s first husband who comments that “Louisa tells me you’re a doctor,” Richard is uncomfortable with his too-lengthy, muscular handshake and so feels the need to clarify: “Consultant. Neuroradiology” (55). Again these are telling words, as is a sentence on the following page: “He’d arranged his cutlery at half-past six” (56). By the time the book is finished, the reader will feel he/she has spent a week with these eight people.

Family is obviously one of the themes of the novel. Early on a definition is given: “Family, that slippery word, a star to every wandering bark, and everyone sailing under a different sky” (10). In one way or another most of the characters want to escape from their families. Louisa is embarrassed about her ”working-class roots which she was trying to escape” (102), an embarrassment she shares with her daughter who hopes to see her mother’s brothers, “Never again, hopefully” (240); Angela wants to be “off duty” from her family so she can have “only herself to please” (96); Daisy wants to run until she finds “the edge of the world and the beginning of some other place where no one knows her” (151). One character literally runs away.

Characters claim not to have anything in common with family members. Alex “recognized nothing of himself in Mum and Dad” (45) while Angela looks at her brother and thinks, “We have nothing in common, nothing” (30). Louisa thinks Richard would “have nothing in common” (224) with her brothers just as Melissa dares Daisy to “Tell me one thing [Louisa and Richard have] in common” (94). Of course this is not true as many similarities are revealed. Louisa experienced “unexpected loneliness” (107) when her first husband, who “wanted it all the time” (55), left her; Richard suffered “intolerable loneliness” (111) when his first wife, “who was so explicit about her needs” (124), left him. Angela and Benjy spend a great deal of time in the worlds of their imaginations. Dominic acknowledges he “has never really grown up” (97) and Richard unknowingly agrees with his sister (71) by thinking of himself as “a little boy” (131). Poor self-esteem is evidenced in the female cousins (123), and Richard and Benjy even have similar gestures (129).

Richard decides, “I didn’t really understand what family meant . . . . You have to work at these things” (101), and, ironically, throughout the book the characters also work at connecting with family: that “was what one wanted ultimately, wasn’t it, that connection” (60). People want to be asked, “Tell me about yourself” (17) or “Tell me more” (175) but, unfortunately, few connections are made. Sometimes people are “too distracted” (180) and aren’t “really listening” (101). Instead there are “stilted conversations” (27) and a constant “Reaching out and pulling back” (88). For example, during a conversation with his sister, Richard doesn’t know what question to ask (129). Then he learns his mistake (145) and so approaches his sister only to have her reply, “I talked to Louisa earlier. I’m not sure I can talk about it twice in one day” (163). After a conversation with Daisy, Angela realizes, “A door had opened and she’d slammed it shut” (189), but she is not the only one to do this. Richard realizes he mishandled a conversation with his daughter-in-law and promises, “Perhaps I should talk to her. . . . I won’t wear hobnailed boots this time” (234). In fact the characters seem very adept at saying the wrong thing. During a conversation with her sister-in-law, Angela realizes, “On what planet was this a good thing to say?” (82) and Alex acknowledges his “foot-in-mouth disease” (181) just as Louisa apologizes, “I shouldn’t have said those things” (197).

In the end, the message seems to be that real connection is impossible. Despite “how similar they might be after all” (240), “Everyone [lives] in their little worlds” (221). Dominic concludes, “How rarely people were together” (233). Richard realizes “And his own sister . . . ? They had the same parents, they had lived in the same house for sixteen years but he had no idea who she really was” (238). Everyone “stumbled through life failing to understand everyone” (246). Daisy’s statement could serve as a mantra for all her family members: “I am ignorant, I understand so little, I am only human” (175).

There are minor, rather than major epiphanies. Characters do realize things about themselves and others, but the insights are not earth shatteringly profound. Louisa realizes people don’t treat family members like adults (66); Angela recognizes the root cause of her resentment of her brother (101); Dominic acknowledges his character flaws (178) which his eldest son also identifies (239). Many of these insights seem insubstantial and fleeting. Daisy may have a flash “out of the blue. Her mother was a human being” (87), but her behavior towards Angela does not change. Some readers might be disappointed with the minor revelations the characters experience; like Richard they might have “expected something to be resolved or mended or rediscovered” (260). In reality, although we may think “something would change. Revelation, turning point, but it doesn’t happen” (260).

And this realism is what is great about the novel. An inability to communicate, having to say, “What I meant was” (218), and having to admit having no “idea what he[/she] was talking about” (57), especially with those closest to us, is a common problem. Many people want to escape their pasts but “we all [have] past lives that rose up” (199). We’ve all had memories evoked at odd moments: “You thought it was all gone, the house demolished, the furniture sold, photos eaten away by mildew and damp. Then you opened a tin of sardines with that little metal key” (54). We’ve all compared memories with others and discovered that “We all look back and see things differently” (208). We’ve probably all had moments of insight and then, for some reason, they lose their significance: “How pleased we are to have our eyes opened but how easily we close them again” (236). At some time we all feel “strangers to ourselves” (198) and that “Every day [we find] out more and understand less” (217). Certainly there must be others who can identify with the description of life “as a clumsy cartwheel down a long long hill, hitting this rock and that tree, a little more bruised and scratched with each successive impact till . . . what” (260)?

Many times as I was reading the novel, I thought of T. S. Eliot’s poem “The Hollow Men”: “Between the idea/And the reality/ . . . /Falls the Shadow/ . . . / Between the emotion/And the response/Falls the Shadow”. As William J. Thomas, publisher and editor-in-chief at Doubleday, wrote, “ Mark Haddon is a master at exploring the gap between the action and the intent, between the desire to connect and its impossibility.” The style of the novel with its stream-of-consciousness style and its occasional inclusion of literary references and dense lists is reminiscent of Eliot’s poetry, especially “The Hollow Men” and “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” which also includes sections in a foreign language and passages inserted without explanation. Admittedly, some of the passages in the novel may leave the reader perplexed: “Marja, Helmand. . . . Dawn light on wild horses in the Khentii Mountains. . . . Cadmium, arsenic, benzene. . . . Brando and Hepburn pace their silver cages . . . .Mein Irisch kind, wo weilest du? . . . Arklow Surf to White Mountains, Cymbeline to Ford Jetty . . . A girl wakes and has no time to remember the dream about the birds” (131). Nonetheless, a complete understanding of these passages is not required for an understanding of the novel’s themes, and, for those so inclined, these are puzzles to be deciphered. As with Eliot, there is also symbolism here, especially that of houses. At the beginning, there is a statement, “Behind everything there is always a house” (12) which is repeated at the end (251). In between there are several observations about houses, including references to “How eloquently houses speak” (184) and how silent they can be: “Louisa puts her hand on the bumpy wall and listens. Paint over plaster over stone. Nothing. Complete silence” (262). A wonderful image for family memories is found in Benjy’s drawing of the cottage: “the wonky lines, the weird scale, the eccentric detail, for this is how they will all remember the place, nothing quite as it was, elements added, elements removed” (259).

This is not a novel for those looking for an action-packed, escapist adventure. For those looking for realistic interpretive literature, seek no further. Reading this book is like going on a journey, and “the journey [is] the constructive thing” (259). show less