This may, by now, come as a surprise, but Brookner was once disregarded, downgraded and even mocked by her peers.
For illustration, consider the comments of Jeanette Winterson (here) and Anthony Burgess (here).
Why the hostility? Coming to fiction after a successful career elsewhere, was Brookner seen as an interloper, a hobbyist, straying from her lane?
Something has changed. Time has passed. A major biography is in the offing. Mentions of Brookner in the press nowadays are not only more frequent but more admiring.
Writing last year in the Guardian (here), in their 'Books of my life' column, the writer Geoff Dyer - lauded by, among others, Zadie Smith - spoke of Brookner in respectful and, one feels, revisionary terms:
... the first 12 novels by Anita Brookner, a subtle and quietly pathological writer. When someone writes essentially the same book over and over you’re in receipt of an enacted philosophical consciousness. Having said that, Brookner’s persistent and gradually shrinking sameness led me to pause at about the halfway mark: 12 down, a dozen to go.
Comments
Post a Comment
Questions and comments welcome. There will be a short moderation delay before publication. To message directly, email brooknerian@gmail.com