The Manticore

In the second volume of the Deptford trilogy we see the Staunton family through the eyes of David, the son and hard drinking criminal lawyer. But most remarkably we see Jungian analysis at work, as the greater part of the novel is concerned with David's analysis. He has moved to Zurich to pursue this course, following his alarming outburst at Eisengrim's show in Toronto that closed [b:Fifth Business|76896|Fifth Business (The Deptford Trilogy #1)|Robertson Davies|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1368313688s/76896.jpg|603433]. He fears he is losing control of himself and seeks treatment, which exposes him to the expression of Jungian archetypes throughout his life and leaves him with the question of whether or not he can live as the Hero, show more exploring his true self.

The Jungian core of the novel is interesting and got me looking at Jung's [b:The Red Book: Liber Novus|6454477|The Red Book Liber Novus|C.G. Jung|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1349565532s/6454477.jpg|6644707], which quickly proved too much to handle lightly; serious dedication will be required to get through that work. It is the wellspring of Jung's system and thought, what the character Liesl is referring to when she talks to David in the book's latter, more philosophical and inspirational coda about Jung, and Freud, and Adler:

Davey, did you ever think that these three men who were so splendid at understanding others had first to understand themselves? It was from their self-knowledge that they spoke. They did not go trustingly to some doctor and follow his lead because they were too lazy or too scared to make the inward journey alone. They dared heroically. And it should never be forgotten that they made the inward journey while they were working like galley-slaves at their daily tasks, considering other people's troubles, raising families, living full lives. They were heroes, in a sense that no space-explorer can be a hero, because they went into the unknown absolutely alone.

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This is the second book of the Deptford Trilogy and it is almost as good as the first except that the lead in The Manticore,David Staunton, doesn’t quite have the charm of Dunstan Ramsay, the lead in the first book, Fifth Business. David Staunton is a criminal attorney dealing with some things in life that leads him to seek out a Jungian therapist in Zürich. The majority of the book is an account of those therapy sessions and the history that David recalls in the process. It might sound a little dull, but Davies fashions it all into a truly enjoyable reading experience.

I have only a passing familiarity with Carl Jung and his writing on archetypes, but the characters voice enough of the theory for it to become clear. As I take it, show more the archetypes that Jung discusses (e.g., Shadow, Anima, Magus, Friend, etc.) belong to a common, collectively unconscious, way of perceiving the world. The exact manifestation of these archetypes vary from person to person, but those manifestations cohere around the functions associated with the archetype and around the archetype’s mediating influence on our individual behavior. The Shadow, for example, is a manifestation of repressed, negative impressions of personality, often our own, that we project onto others where those impressions are safely objectified into objects and people that we can safely scorn without the turmoil of actually turning that scorn on ourselves. The other archetypes are also projections onto others that we use to manage our own lives.

The Jungian archetypes and their connection to a collective unconscious sounds a little too much like innate ideas to me. I tend to fall more in the empiricist camp when it comes to human understanding and I find it hard to believe that, given the diversity of human experience, that there are common archetypes, even if they do manifest differently to us as individuals. Nevertheless, even if the archetypes are fictions, I can see how they might have utility as focal points for reflection and I think this is point that comes through in the novel.

If anything, these archetypes are ways to make sense of people and events so that they don’t seem arbitrary (a theme throughout the books so far, starting with the arc of an errant snowball that opens the first book). Maybe a Jungian would say that what appears arbitrary in life are just patterns that rationalists and empiricists cannot see, but mapping those patterns to the play of archetypes imposes a kind of sense on them. However, the imposition of archetypes seems like it has the potential to do harm to the people that become the recipients of those projections. In making those projections on others we see them not on their own terms but on terms relative to our interests and needs. Maybe that’s all we can ever do — see the world through our eyes. However, if we take these archetypes, even if they are a fiction, perhaps they enable productive reflection that at least allows us to see that there is something about people and events that is different or in addition to what we are motivated to see. There is a strong connection here to Iris Murdoch’s concept of “moral vision” as an impediment to ethical action.

Maybe what I’m seeing in this book is a meditation on the power of fiction and on the recurring character types, and conventional story types, and familiar tropes that reveal elements of a shared or shareable experience. And focusing on what reoccurs and reasserts itself, aided by the innovation and novelty of fiction, we can still learn something. That has true transformative value.

The writing in both books of the trilogy has been delightful. Davies is witty and irreverent and has such clever and concise ways of making big points without ever interrupting the flow of the narrative to make a big point. And for as little as actually happens in the book, the plotting of those events and the pacing thoroughly kept my interest. I would have been happy with another hundred pages of this narrative and I am definitely eager to pick up a copy of the third book World of Wonders which focuses on Magnus Eisengrim. show less

Here the trilogy moves to its next narrator as David Staunton, son of the late Boy Staunton, enters into therapy following his father's unusual death. I found the "story told through therapy" approach a bit affected at first - why not a straightforward telling, as with the first novel? - but the psychoanalysis portions are fantastic, almost as if Davies were a personal expert in the field; so good, in fact, I may have benefited from it a bit myself. Boy Staunton stands at the centre of this trilogy but David's story is also compelling. He has never learned how to feel. While the reason for this is never plainly stated, I latched onto his declaration that, as a child, he could not love anything that disappointed his father. The conflict show more in him arose when he realized he was one of those things.

This is not, as most other reviewers point out, as good as the first book. To achieve that, it had to either broaden the world we were introduced to or dig beneath what we've already seen. It doesn't take much of a stab at doing either. Mostly it covers the same ground, and where there's contradiction or blank spots in David's knowledge these always seem resolvable by Ramsay's having known more. The external view of Ramsay is interesting, but it doesn't change his character or make me distrust what I think I already know. I've the odd impression that these first two books would have served each other better if they had been written and published in reverse order. The conclusion moves things forward a bit, but only in service to David's story, and even then it does not have the clean closure of Ramsay's. I love how articulate and insightful Davies' characters are, and that more than anything compels me to read on. show less

Continuing the story where he left off with Fifth Business, Davies switches narrators from Dunstan Ramsay to Boy Staunton's sun David. The first two thirds of the novel are Socratic in nature, being an exchange between David and a Jungian analyst. Watching David's character change and grow under the traditionally trained hand of Dr. von Haller was a vastly entertaining process. From the outset, David Staunton seems intolerably rich, or the kind of privileged class that is completely unaware that the rest of the world is not as objective as he thinks it is. We aren't meant to like the protagonist here, and I love a good unreliable narrator. We can't trust David, we don't even root for him until Part II of the book, I'd say. The familiar show more events from Fifth Business are rounded out, not because of how important David's functions in the grand plot are, but how dastardly and narrow-minded Boy Staunton was a man. Again, Roberston Davies uses this story to explore the life-long impact our actions can have without our knowing on another person, how what we do outlasts our life span.

Onto World of Wonders. show less

The Manticore is the equivalent of The Empire Strikes Back - the midpoint of a trilogy, ending without an ending. In fact, it ends with David Staunton, it's protagonist (I don't think we can call him a hero), staring off into the space of the Swiss Alps, pondering what lies in store for him in the next book. And, like Empire, the entire book is an examination of David's relationship with his (recently deceased) father, who has a Vader complex.

After Fifth Business, The Manticore is a disappointment. Staunton is a prig who has fled his native Canada for Switzerland, where he spends a year in analysis (being a wealthy lawyer, he can jet off at a moment's notice and stay gone an entire year without repercussions). The novel is entirely his show more story, most of which is pedestrian and mundane. After a short introduction which details the events leading to his flight, the novel devolves into an overly-long middle section which grinds through his analysis, followed by a short summation in which Staunton miraculously runs into his father's childhood friend (and the protagonist from the first, more entertaining book in the trilogy) Dunstan Ramsay. The middle section is heavy on intellectual discussion and reminded me of Ayn Rand, only without her horrific, unrealistic dialogue. It covers a lot of the same ground as the first book, only from a different character's perspective - a character infinitely less likable than Ramsay. It has unrealistically long monologues masquerading as conversation. It has remembered dreams which conveniently fit into the stage of analysis Staunton is at.

There are some interesting parts: Staunton's first and only sexual encounter is arranged by his father - at seventeen, no less - as an educational experience. Several of the court cases Staunton handles delve into the seedy side of life. But these parts are overwhelmed by the contrived psychoanalytical sessions.

I worried when only the first book of this trilogy was listed on the 1,001 Books You Must Read Before You Die list. My concerns were born out.

Addendum after finishing the final book, World of Wonders: we never discover what David Staunton's future holds in store. No clues are provided in the novel. If Davies continued this tale in another novel or trilogy, count me out. show less

A reread. I so like the premise ... a son trying to figure out his father's death. But this time around, I found myself getting bogged down in the second half of the book, with all the psychoanalysis.

In the second volume of the acclaimed Deptford Trilogy, we switch narrators, from Dunstan “Boy” Staunton, to his son David. David is a successful lawyer but is a heavy drinker and is emotionally stunted. He travels to Zurich to receive therapy and to deal with his haunted past and the looming shadow of his, indomitable father.
David Staunton is a difficult main character and readers may find him cold and reserved, but in Davies, deft and crafty hands, he has created another sharp and inventive narrative. Smart, bold, prose and wonderful, bigger than life characters. Davies has become one of my favorite authors and I am looking forward to the final book in the trilogy.