According to Queeney

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Summary: Not Boswell's Dr. Johnson
Review: Beryl Bainbridge's new historical novel takes a fresh, and rather disturbing, look at Samuel Johnson, LL.D., the eminent 18th century lexicographer and man of letters. Dr. Johnson (as he is usually referred to) is, of course, well-known as the subject of English literature's first great biography, James Boswell's "The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D." (1791). But Boswell, who worshipped Johnson, failed to include some of the less appealing and less attractive aspects of Johnson's life and personality. It is these that Bainbridge writes about in "According to Queeney."

Queeney was the real-life daughter of Hester Lynch Thrale, one of Johnson's closest friends and confidantes. In fact, Johnson lived, off and on, at Mrs. Thrale's estate, Streatham Park. Through the voice of a third-person narrator, along with a series of letters written by Queeney to her girlhood friends, we discover that Dr. Johnson was deeply depressed (or melancholic, as they called it back then), obsessed with death, sexually conflicted, and a masochist--in short, a bundle of neurotic tics and rifts. Bainbridge's book is brilliant not only in its expose of the dark side of Dr. Johnson, but also in its depiction of the literary and social world of 18th century London, especially the upper classes. While non-specialists in this period of English literature may be challenged to keep up with who's who and what's what, in the end the challenge is well worth taking up.

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Summary: Introducing Samuel Johnson
Review: Did everyone else know that Samuel Johnson wrote the first dictionary of the English language that still influences writers of dictionaries today? Has everyone else read a book by Beryl Bainbridge? If not, _According to Queenie_, Bainbridge's latest historical novel about the 18th century genius Samuel Johnson and his relationship with the wealthy, beer-brewing Thrale family, is a perfect introduction to both. I thoroughly enjoyed being transported to that earlier, innocent, no-tech time and being reminded that then, as now, there were those (even geniuses) with serious psychological "issues" and families that could be described as "dysfunctional."

It does help, I believe, to do a little research about Johnson before- or while--reading the book. (No, I shall not read, nor recommend, all of Boswell's "Life of Johnson.") But the characters in the book are based on real people. If the book has a fault, it's that Bainbridge seems to assume that the reader already knows something about the characters before the first word is read. But even if one doesn't, as I didn't, I would recommend this book simply for its intelligent, well-crafted, scintillating prose. It left me wanting to read more about and by Samuel Johnson and definitely wanting to read more books by Beryl Bainbridge.

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Summary: An easy read, and a depressing one.
Review: In reviewing "According to Queeney"[review excerpted above],Publisher's Weekly wrote: "...few novelists now alive can match Bainbridge for the uncanny precision with which she enters into the ethos of a previous era."

Uncanny? Yes. Very weird. Precise? I absolutely don't think so-unless you'd believe that 18th century upper-class people lived in a constant state of misery due to(among other things)clinical depression, sexual repression, religious fanaticism and/or hypocrisy, disease, and the lack of indoor plumbing. My main problem with this book is its unremitting unpleasantness, both of tone and character, and its rather superficial assumption that there's some kind of need to dispel an imagined rosy picture of "ye olden days" by swinging wildly in the other direction: a modernist, disaffected, determinedly downbeat view of humanity.
There isn't a single likeable person in the book, nor does anyone seem to escape either madness, disease, bitterness, selfishness, hate, gluttony, stupidity, addiction-or a combination of the above. It's one thing to make one's central characters complex, another to divest them of anything positive, save, supposedly, intelligence. An author runs a great risk-and takes on a huge responsibility-when she chooses to write a fictional "novel" using real people, places, and events. Perhaps it's just me, but I believe that she owes these onetime living, breathing people something better-at least, something a little more considered than simply using them as objects on which to hang some imagined psychodramas. Yes, Johnson was a strange man...that's hardly news to anyone who's read anything about his personal life and habits. As for "Queeney's" mother, longtime Johnson friend Mrs. Thrale, well, gosh, she must have been something more than the histrionic shrew Bainbridge makes to bulge, faint, redden, pinch, hit and kick her daughter, her husband, and her friend Johnson by turns. This was a woman who was wealthy, witty, and a very sought-after hostess and guest-and yet in this novel her life is an unending misery...somehow I tend to think that she was bit more complex than that. But everything-every scene, every inner thought-is made into a kind of creepy horror for these "characters"...in this "narrative", poor Johnson can't even show up from an errand buying treats for his beloved cat, Hodge[a real incident recalled, like much of the basis for this novel, by James Boswell in his "Life of Johnson"], without this simple act being given new shades of direst import by Bainbridge's pen: the paper bag containing the liver seeps and drips with blood...give me a break. It's a short book, easily read in one or two sittings. The author has done research, yes-all of it obvious and based on easily available sources, though not resulting in anything more amazing or unusual than can be found in a standard book on "life in Johnson's London"(there actually is such a title-and many like it). Finally, when you decide to write a novel with a couple of real-life geniuses as your main characters, you'd better be at least as witty as they were. Bainbridge isn't up to that task.