by David Wheldon
I first read this book a long time ago and it has had a haunting effect on me. I read his novel “The Viaduct” first and then bought this.
A man receives a letter inviting him to attend an unspecified course of instruction. His boss – the director of the lab – indifferently supposes it must be important, and allows him time off work.
The man, Alexander, takes a train to the small provincial town where the course is to be held. He goes to the address given. It is a large but unremarkable nineteenth-century house. From the outset he encounters annoying incompetence and useless advice. The staff at the institution accept that the letter is important, and Alexander exerts much effort trying to get in contact with someone who will give him definitive information.
Read on ….
This I think is key to the secret power which drives the novel. The people Alexandar encounters are very real, and often petty and squabbling with each other. They give Alexander real advice, and have real insights into his character. And yet a sense of eeriness begins to pervade the narrative. Alexander gets lost in obscure discussions of matters which are of no importance. He loses track of the larger picture. The reader wants to shout at him: “Just leave. Get out of there.”
And in fact he does just that. He visits the church, checks out the train timetable, tries to find a cheap hotel for the night, goes for a few pints in the local pub. It seems that after all he is living in the normal world. He gets drunk and gets invited to a lock-in session with several salesmen.
He ends up back in the house. The servants and staff help find him a place to sleep for the night. He meets a woman, the girlfriend of one of the officials, and falls into an allusive argument with her. At one point he cuts the argument short impatiently:
‘Do you think I’m restrained in this house like a dog? I can do as I wish; when it’s necessary for me to go back, then I’ll go back. … You are speaking nonsense.’
Nobody threatens him, there is no evil secret, and yet a feeling of horror grows in the reader. Maybe not every reader. This book is in many respects a correlate of the letter Alex receives in the first chapter. Some readers will enjoy it briefly as a mystery story. Some will read meanings into it – maybe eventually to dismiss it as being of interest to youngish people going through an existential phase. (As did one reviewer.) Others will take it seriously, and maybe get annoyed with it at a later stage, even while admitting it’s a compelling read.
In this novel Wheldon captures and distils a notion – a feeling – which I have seen only hinted at in other fiction. The horror of self-forgetting and lapsing into an everyday exteriority. A horror which can occur unnoticed even by those dearest to us. It is hard to find anything to compare to Wheldon’s work – Kafka gives rise to only lazy comparisons.
— Paul Keegan, The Times Literary Supplement
The author, David Wheldon, is a medical doctor and does not seem to actively participate in literary circles. His bare-bones website hosts reviews of his fiction, and some of his essays and poetry.
http://www.davidwheldon.co.uk/
Valancourt The Viaduct reissue
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Irish Times Q+A