Customer Reviews

Devotion

5 star:		(0)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

In previous Norman novels and reminiscences, I have enjoyed the richness of interesting, well-developed characters doing wild things carefully. I have loved the uncompromising spirit of the author, and have counted him on my wish list, eagerly awaiting his next journey into the vast inner spacings of eastern Canada. It is, therefore, very sad for me to say that I feel I have lost a friend. I think the author has disappeared with a flight of wounded swans.
Devotion appears written with little distance from the main character. It appears written in drunken haste, ill-timed, in often stiltifed and forced prose. Norman wanely develops his Dosteyevskian 'idiot', places him in the anguishing half-light of passive resistance, makes him a voyeur to all but the swam, only with whom he can frolic in drunken embrace. But who cares. Not Norman nor I.
Firstly, the timing is off. Norman has lost, in the irony of the title, any 'devotion' he has had for the painstaking craftsmanship of his earlier works. The author of 'Northern Lights' and, of course his famous trilogy of exceptional prose, seems to have been forced to try to re-create his masterpieces for expedience's sake and for, I suspect, a whole kettle of yankee dollars. The book just does not work.
Two dimensional characters passionlessly embrace even before they are introduced. Who are these people seen only in half-light. Norman thinks he is still in control of his craft but he now writes with a flat, false pen. There is no drama, no pacing that can make important sequences come alive. Maggie's naked dance by the window is dull because Maggie is dull as is the voyeur David who is dull. Finally they touch, appear re-united in the car. This act, in a drama of people who cannot cause an action, should mean something to us.But Maggie, or is it David, or perhaps, Howard Norman who makes us feel one or both or all of them are holding a dead mackerel in their flaccid fingers?
There is greater passion about the swans. Its obvious Norman has given up on human contact. The passing mention of a woman who believes her swan to be a dead husband is more in keeping with this author's present passion. The only real scene in this story that masquerades as substance(and I suspect, like his character,was written with alcohol very close by) occurs when David wrestles with the swan and falls down drunk amidst swan dew. It is as close to drunken passion that the present-day Norman can affect.
Sadly, Norman obviously no longer cares. He is Roger Clemens trying to scratch out one more season well after his skills are gone His gifts are wilted.
Devotion, above all else, is a very dull read. Not until page 70 of this short work do we begin to see any movement. The plot,an accident...a misunderstanding in a hotel room, a punch in the mouth? Wow,oh my, what heart-stopping drama!. Like David, his protagonist, Norman now is now disappeared behind the camera lense. His prose, like his protagonist's actions; indeed, like all his characters seems irksome and stilted--forced and banal.
I need more, Howard Norman, if I am to pay twenty dollars to read you again. Where's your.....honesty, your.....devotion?

Imagery is central to Devotion, the issue of communication couched in a broken romance. The novel begins with an altercation between David Kozol and his father-in-law, William. Suffering of late from the estrangement of his wife, Maggie, David has not quite ascertained how to rectify his marital predicament. It is assumed that some form of infidelity is at fault in the severing of trust, the two men possessing conflicting views in regards to the state of the marriage, David's father-in-law siding naturally with his disappointed daughter.

The fast-forward romance between the newlyweds is as passionate as their current distance is poignant, the attraction immediate and mutual from the start, two Canadians meeting by chance in London. Later, back in Nova Scotia after the accident, David's supposed misdeed hanging over the relationship like a dark shadow, the new husband takes over William's estate management duties. The estate is owned by an elderly couple and serves as a refuge for swans, the mute birds central to the story and indicative of the ambiguity of form and intent. For though they are majestic, the swans are ill-tempered and difficult, much like humans. These particular humans fumble through a tripartite relationship, where father serves as buffer for daughter, the lack of communication among the parties stunning. Clearly David and Maggie are victims of their impulsiveness; it is that same impetuousness that causes them to pull apart in adversity rather than come together in solution.

In eloquent prose, the author casts his characters in the picturesque Nova Scotia, the honking swans, the distance between the lovers accented by the haunting rural landscape. Love being more powerful than enforced isolation, David and Maggie eventually navigate the rocky ground of their fledgling marriage, toward a resolution of differences and a strong dose of forgiveness. Luan Gaines/2007.

If you are a fan, do not hesitate, Norman's new book is beautifully written and very consistent with the unique point of view and perspective his narrators always provide. My only complaint is that it's a slim volume.

This is a slim story that doesn't quite qualify as a novel. As someone in my book group said, it's more like an idea of a novel. The voice is similar to the one in The Bird Artist although it is third person and the setting is similar. The device of the swans doesn't quite work. There are some interesting characters but a few to many times their actions aren't quite believable and too contrived. The main character is inexplicably lame as was the ending of the book.

If you like Norman you will like this one. Typical woman and locales.