Customer Reviews

The Sin Eater

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3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(1)
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The Anglo-Welsh patriarch of an old family is dying in Llanelys, and his children and their spouses gather at the estate to await the end. Rose, the Irish wife of the oldest son Henry, is the sensible mother of twins who has worked to restore the estate and its gardens, make it a home, and, through her cooking, provide a sense of family warmth. In sardonic contrast to her is Angela, the oh-so-upperclass wife of the second son Michael, who looks down on Rose and everyone else not of the family's "class" and breeding. Arriving sometime later is the only daughter, Ermyn, young, schoolgirlish, and disturbed. Severely repressed and often ignored, she looks for answers in exotic religious expression, and like the sin eater of Welsh legend, believes she can take upon herself the sins of the Captain and the family.

Ellis wields language like a rapier, skewering family members for their caste-conscious concern with their "blood," and showing with mordant humor their deliberate separation from the community. The family is changing, if Rose, daughter of an Irish veterinarian, is any indication, just as Llanelys, now a tourist destination, has changed. But though the family may deserve to be satirized for its meaningless rituals, the local population is not exempt from Ellis's dissection, either. Phyllis, the caretaker for the Captain, saves the best of the family's food to feed her fat grandson, and he steals liquor and makes lewd, sexual overtures to Rose and Ermyn. Other townspeople mock the family, show their rudeness, and even break their windows.

Stunning imagery, delicious turns of phrase, and lively dialogue make the narrative sparkle. The hands of Rose's small twins are described as "so delicate and fine they felt like broken toothpicks in little silk bags," while the sea is "smooth and wrinkle-free, like the face of a saint or a psychopath." Blood is carried as a motif throughout, and references to old Welsh legends connect the family with the past and offer dire portents of the future. Despite the harshness Ellis exhibits toward some of her characters, the reader develops empathy toward Rose and understands that poor Ermyn needs more emotional help than she is likely to get, but Ellis never allows the reader to get comfortable with this family's world. She shows that just as the sin eater cannot take on the sins of others, life has no guarantees of happy endings. Mary Whipple

As in her "The Inn at the Edge of the World" Ms. Ellis gives us a group of unlikeable people who dislike each other. They are a household of aristocrats living on an estate in a Welsh seaside village. Despite the hostility that exists among them they are allied against the working class who are in ascendance, and whom they view as upstarts. They also barely tolerate the summer tourists. The narrative is unified by anticipation of a patriarch's death and by an annual cricket match that has become an "us vs. them" event. Rose, who marries into the family is especially well-drawn. Her casual cruelty in word and deed is often breathtaking. For example, she serves fat-laden meals, redolent of cream and butter--killing with kindness. The final tragedy is unexpected yet the logical outcome of the cruelty and weakness that have gone on before.

My problem with the novel is that there seems to be no right way to behave according to Ellis. The sister-in-law who speaks charitably of the working class comes off as condescending. The household staff are drunk and sly. The patriarch is portrayed as amoral and domineering. As fine a word-weaver as she is, surely a writer of such intelligence could do more than expose the weaknesses of every character she creates.

Ellis masterfully weaves the past and present together, exploring the power that story can have in a person's life. The Sin Eater, as one might expect is not the central focus of the novel, but a vehicle for healing. This novel is more about the healing power of story and of the past's effect on our present.

With its deep issues and intense emotion, this novel may not be appropriate for the young reader.

The Anglo-Welsh patriarch of an old family is dying in Llanelys, and his children and their spouses gather at the estate to await the end. Rose, the Irish wife of the oldest son Henry, is the sensible mother of twins who has worked to restore the estate and its gardens, make it a home, and, through her cooking, provide a sense of family warmth. In sardonic contrast to her is Angela, the oh-so-upperclass wife of the second son Michael, who looks down on Rose and everyone else not of the family's "class" and breeding. Arriving sometime later is the only daughter, Ermyn, young, schoolgirlish, and disturbed. Severely repressed and often ignored, she looks for answers in exotic religious expression, and like the sin eater of Welsh legend, believes she can take upon herself the sins of the Captain and the family.

Ellis wields language like a rapier, skewering family members for their caste-conscious concern with their "blood," and showing with mordant humor their deliberate separation from the community. The family is changing, if Rose, daughter of an Irish veterinarian, is any indication, just as Llanelys, now a tourist destination, has changed. But though the family may deserve to be satirized for its meaningless rituals, the local population is not exempt from Ellis's dissection, either. Phyllis, the caretaker for the Captain, saves the best of the family's food to feed her fat grandson, and he steals liquor and makes lewd, sexual overtures to Rose and Ermyn. Other townspeople mock the family, show their rudeness, and even break their windows.

Stunning imagery, delicious turns of phrase, and lively dialogue make the narrative sparkle. The hands of Rose's small twins are described as "so delicate and fine they felt like broken toothpicks in little silk bags," while the sea is "smooth and wrinkle-free, like the face of a saint or a psychopath." Blood is carried as a motif throughout, and references to old Welsh legends connect the family with the past and offer dire portents of the future. Despite the harshness Ellis exhibits toward some of her characters, the reader develops empathy toward Rose and understands that poor Ermyn needs more emotional help than she is likely to get, but Ellis never allows the reader to get comfortable with this family's world. She shows that just as the sin eater cannot take on the sins of others, life has no guarantees of happy endings. Mary Whipple

Read such a fascinating novel on my recent flights: Alice Thomas Ellis' "The Sin Eater." This was Ellis' first novel but you'd never know, so assured is it. Another entry in the "no characters to like" mode but I loved the book enormously. The Anglo-Welsh in decline, it's mordant, bitter, hysterically funny, wonderfully insightful and a bit of a thriller.

When I read the author's obituary (she died earlier in 2005), this sounded like a writer I'd like: interested in religion, wryly misanthropic, novels set in British and Welsh locales, and bittersweet comedies of manners with a stress on the former element. Unfortunately, this novel seemed to sink itself irretrievably into the gloomy village it labors to describe. I felt as if I was watching a Masterpiece Theatre episode for Anglo-agoraphobes that left me indifferent rather than involved.

The elements for a good story are there: Thomas Ellis can initially establish distinguishable if satirically wounded character types, but they listlessly poke about the pages, muttering and pottering about without a real plot to entice you or action that shakes up the doldrums that the author evidently has lived in herself so long that she lacks the cognition to make such a realm vivid and intriguing for first-time visitors to her Anglo-Welsh family, who seem trapped in amber as much as the dim and clouded ambiance that pervades this dreary book.

A long way from "Under Milk Wood." These people are rather like the Anglo-Irish except that they have to be superior not only to the native Welsh but to hordes of vulgar English tourists. As far as I could gather nothing happens. A group of brothers and sisters have come to visit the mansion where their father is ill. They talk,often about religion, and there are a few witty lines (someone thinks Hesiod was an old Welsh poet) and a certain amount of deadpan sick humor. Food is described in great detail, but we do not get told what anyone does for a living or how much anything costs. She has an irritating habit of adding adverbs after the word "said". Something like Aldous Huxley's Chrome Yellow, but not as clever. A touch of Thomas Love Peacock. Long speeches are put into the mouth of Rose that that contain clever observations but do not fit narurally into dialog.

If you like depressing books, here's one for you. I should've stopped reading after a few chapters, but I kept expecting it to get better. It didn't. The main character's scarcasm and pessism may seem clever to some; I found her totally unappealing.