Read, Piers Paul (Vol. 10)
Read, Piers Paul 1941–
Read is an English author of both fiction and nonfiction. He is perhaps best known for Alive, his restrained account of what has been called the most arresting peacetime survival story yet told, the 1972 Andes air crash. He was the choice of the survivors to write their official story. (See also CLC, Vol. 4, and Contemporary Authors, Vols. 21-24, rev. ed.)
The severity of [The Upstart] is not immediately apparent. The opening chapters record the childhood and youth of a Yorkshire clergyman's son in a sharp but amusing way, so that the author might be congratulated on the "malicious" wit with which the boy's "agonies" of social embarrassment are presented. But, quite suddenly, words like "malice" and "agony" need to be used less lightly and loosely. The boy, Hilary Fletcher, might seem not unlike L. P. Hartley's Eustace as he diffidently tries to place his social position between the knowing children of the local aristocracy and the rough farmboys. Eventually, it becomes apparent that the boy has grown up monstrous. The calm, graceful prose which seemed so appropriate for a traditional social comedy about class is equally effective for describing young Fletcher's progress in joyless depravity. Finally he becomes a Roman Catholic, recognizes himself as evil, and repents. So it is, after all, rather like one of Hartley's novels—My Fellow-Devils, with its persuasive emphasis on Catholicism and evil….
[There is a] melodramatic sequence of events [that] takes up most of the book. It is so lurid that it could have been ludricrous, but there is a grim, simple intensity in the writing which makes the story acceptable as a serious representation of evil. The narrator persuades through the apparent objectivity of his presentation of himself: it is like the cold, factual-sounding account that the agnostic Winterman gave of the sins and penitence of the hero of Mr Read's Monk Dawson.
"Prodigal's Progress," in The Times Literary Supplement (© Times Newspapers Ltd. (London) 1973; reproduced from The Times Literary Supplement by permission), September 7, 1973, p. 1017.
Novels like Polonaise usually die at the outline stage. In skeletal form they impress everyone, not least the author; but as the appalling difficulty of actually writing them gradually emerges, there is a tendency to turn to other projects. Also, they fall uncomfortably between two stools: more than just another novel, but distinctly less than the masterpiece one will write some day. But there is a lingering attachment to the material—always a feeling that it could somehow be pushed and prodded into that vital inevitability which was promised in the original conception. So sometimes the writer buckles down to it.
Piers Paul Read has buckled down to it, and produced a novel not without...
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Stefan,… [the] unheroic hero [of Polonaise], is a writer thwarted by 'the unreliability of his characters'. He persuades himself that he is a Marxist, but when he tries to write about 'positive heroes', his carefully constructed puppets run amok and shock even him, their creator. He concludes that his 'muse', his creativity, 'is irony, undiluted irony'. He rejects communism because communists still believe in the perfectibility of the soul; the Soviet Union 'is Holy Russia under another name'.
Stefan is a typical Read character, introspective, intelligent, determined to use self-knowledge in order to cultivate his true individuality….
Polonaise is a rich and...
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The sub-title of [Polonaise] should read: 'Or the Wreck of the Titanic'. Like the Titanic, the greater part of this book is a magnificent piece of engineering, a product of intelligence, great technical skill and hard work. Also like the Titanic, when the journey has almost been completed, in fact as late as page 343, Read's finely constructed artefact, of which its creator has every reason to feel proud, hits an iceberg of such shattering banality that the reader is left at the end like the survivors of the Titanic after she had plunged from sight for ever: surrounded by nothing else but flotsam and jetsam, a very cold feeling at the bottom of the stomach and the unanswerable question: Why did it have to...
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Admirers of the spare, intelligent Monk Dawson may be disappointed by Polonaise, an unexciting academic chronicle-novel…. A leading theme is the slow evaporization of oh young men oh young comrades into disillusion, self-interest, patriotism, common sense. There is the familiar amiable, soft-fibred intellectual whose ineffective good intentions and minor talents compete with a feeble sadism and a mordant temptation to see Hitler as the uninhibited artist in action. The Poles tend to cherish self-absurdity and national deprecation. The writing is clear yet makes somewhat plodding recapitulations. 'Capitalism is a necessary state in the development of Man's productive capacities …'…. Read fills in...
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Read, Piers Paul (Vol. 25)
Piers Paul Read 1941–
English novelist and nonfiction writer.
Perhaps best known in America for Alive, a restrained account of the survivors of a 1972 Andes airplane crash, Read has also written several novels, including his recent A Married Man and The Villa Golitsyn. In these novels Read explores his moral and political concerns by focusing on the social and domestic life of the British upper-middle class.
Critics point to Read's plots as contrived and melodramatic because of the sensational events that often introduce or resolve his narratives. Read's style, even in his fiction, is characterized by its unimpassioned expression—an almost journalistic chronicling of events.
(See also CLC, Vols. 4, 10; Contemporary Authors, Vols. 21-24, rev. ed.; Something about the Author, Vol. 21; and Dictionary of Literary Biography, Vol. 14.)
Piers Paul Read's experimental novel [Game in Heaven with Tussy Marx] is an infuriating mixture of the trenchant and the perverse…. The novel spirals backwards—via satirical setpiece, heavenly interludes, jokes, straight fiction—to trace how revolutionary impetus was able to start up in the unpromisingly easy-osy conditions of Western Europe today. The devious irony at times cuts deep…. But pointful passages are out-weighed by ones whose only aim seems to be to annoy the conventional reader. The revolt against exploitation becomes the impulse pour épater le bourgeois…. [All] Read can do is stand the conventional novel on its head. He cannot put his finger on any actual seed or source of revolution—of radical change—in the world he belongs to. For all the 'advanced' cachet sought by the title and the trappings, the book remains the furious shadow-boxing of someone trying to run a r-r-r-revolutionary one-man-band in a situation where the only practicable line for the Left is cooperation and patience.
David Craig, "R-R-Revolutionary," in New Statesman (© 1966 The Statesman & Nation Publishing Co. Ltd.), Vol. 71, No. 1838, June 3, 1966, p. 817.∗
Piers Paul Read's The Junkers is written in the first person, the narrator is roughly the same age as the author and the book is set in Germany where Read has lived, but you don't for a moment feel that he is dishing up a chunk of personal experience with himself at the centre of a group of his acquaintances dressed in false names and noses. The main character is a young British diplomat posted in the 1960s to Berlin where he falls romantically and credibly in love with a German girl, Suzi…. [Research into her] family's history provides a vivid account of the rise of the Nazis before the Second World War, some scenes of SS bestiality described with a careful restraint that intensifies the horror, and a penetrating and sympathetic study of the type of brave and patriotic German soldier who was also a devout Christian, agonised by his growing realisation that his Fuehrer was not merely fallible but the incarnation of total evil. The flashbacks mesh smoothly with the development of the narrator's affair with Suzi and the novel is organised with unobtrusive but masterly skill. (p. 808)
Vernon Scannell, "Enjoying the Ride," in New Statesman (© 1968 The Statesman & Nation Publishing Co. Ltd.), Vol. 75, No. 1944, June 14, 1968, pp. 808-09.∗
[The Junkers is an ambitious novel and inevitably leaves a] confused, fragmented impression as one realises towards the end of the book that the author has failed, honourably, in his task: that of attempting to give an artistic explanation of some of the Dionysian forces in the German collective psyche during the last forty years. Sensibly, Mr. Read has adopted as the framework for his novel the story of a single Pomeranian family, the Von Rummelsbergs…. (p. 75)
[Mr. Read tells] the tale through the eyes of a young British diplomat, a second secretary to the political adviser in West Berlin, who first falls in love with the city and then, perhaps romantically, with Suzi von Rummelsberg, so providing a means of exploring a story whose undertones are all the more effectively caught for the restraint and the insight with which it is treated. Yet the episodes created around the story of the death camps remind us this is no ordinary family chronicle.
If the denouement of The Junkers with its droll unmasking of interlocking mysteries, its curious understanding of Germany with which the narrator is completely involved, is unsatisfactory, that is to be expected, considering the complexity of the theme. (p. 76)
David Rees, "Heroes of Our Time," in Encounter (© 1968 by Encounter Ltd.), Vol. XXXI, No. 4, October, 1968, pp. 74-6.∗
Technically, The Junkers is a fine achievement. Its agile handling of time-breaks gives it brisk coverage of half a century of intricate personal relationships, political complications and moral entanglements. The phrasing is bright, energetic; the craftsmanship, expert. Yet the overall effect is somehow diminished by the very characterization of the narrator. He simply isn't a storyteller who inspires confidence.
Richard Sullivan, "Persons of Principle," in Book World—The Washington Post (© 1969 Postrib Corp.; reprinted by permission of Chicago Tribune and The Washington Post), May 18, 1969, p. 11.
A year spent by [Piers Paul Read] in America seems to have tempted him into writing [The Professor's Daughter, a] low-keyed, unexciting account of the generation gap and revolution in American society. The approach—dutiful, lucid, schematic—simply does not match the theme, and the final liberal humanist retreat into a reactionary family-stability solution ('a family will always be the basic unit of society') hands us an old stone where new bread was never more needed. The Professor's Daughter begins well but soon becomes predictable.
Edwin Morgan, "Dicey" (© British Broadcasting Corp. 1971; reprinted by permission of Edwin Morgan), in The Listener, Vol. 86, No. 2218, September 30, 1971, p. 453.∗
[So] good is The Professor's Daughter, so intellectually engaging and compelling, that one must ask why this is not a novel of major importance instead of merely first-rate entertainment.
It can be argued that its ending is contrived—contrived, moreover, to give aid and comfort to middle-class, anti-revolutionary values. And there is justification for such a view: The domestic settlements that end it do seem trivial in the light of the questions it has raised; thus the ending does seem forced.
The trouble, however, does not lie in the ending itself, but in the fact that Mr. Read has staged his drama of social issues in a hermetic setting, as if he believed that issues that...
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The Professor's Daughter is a good fictional portrait of our American malaise. Here a father and his daughter find that their search for a meaningful cause is an oppressive condition. Their dilemma is that material wealth has deprived them of any social need. And this cunning, cynical tale suggests that our motivation for changing the status quo is frustrated by the freedom from want. (pp. 164-65)
The narrative smoothly alternates between events in the lives of father and daughter, interweaving and unifying them with a superb dramatic rhythm. On the basis of his two previous novels, Monk Dawson and The Junkers, Read has been compared to his compatriot, Graham Greene. At least...
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The Great Train Robbery co-ordinated the actions of 15 highly idiosyncratic thugs. It was supported by scores, if not hundreds, of underworld 'supply troops'…. Therefore, one way of looking at this 1963 'crime of the century' is as an expression of London working-class culture….
This is one of the fascinating sidelights of Read's account [The Train Robbers], which he collected from the eager testimonies of the robbers who are out of prison…. Alas, like so much else of possible interest, it remains a sidelight to the main but conventional drama, a brisk re-run (yet again) of How It Was Done.
I don't know how much of the narrative to believe…. [According to the robbers...
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Mr Read's non-fiction approach, as we know from Alive, is to surround large and shocking events with understated prose. It seemed to work well for such a lurid subject as cannabalism. It works rather well [in The Train Robbers] too: this is a clean, steady, authoritative narrative. But given the familiarity of the material, at times one finds oneself wishing for a cruder, heavier brush and stronger colours; for some English Mailer who, for all the risks of buffoonery and bad taste, might give one a keener sense of the robbers' spectacular achievement, of the kind of glory that they won.
Peter Prince, "The Biggs Boys," in The Times Literary Supplement (©...
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[In A Married Man] John Strickland finds the naked body of his wife, Clare, in the living-room of their country cottage and the corpse of her hitherto unsuspected lover in the bedroom upstairs [and] it gives him a nasty turn, especially as both have been demolished by shotgun blast. But he has set his heart on becoming a labour M.P. and is soon back at the hustings although warning his agent: 'I may be a little off form.'
His form declines still further when he discovers that the super-rich mistress, who is about to become his second wife, was responsible for Clare's messy end. He glumly breaks off the engagement but shows little other sign of being deeply affected. This uncanny poise is...
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Mr. Read has outdone himself [in "A Married Man"], blending for the first time with absolute success his preoccupations with domestic, social and political upheavals, and creating as a result a story full of suspense and subtleties.
[Some] readers will argue that there's not much suspense involved here. Because Mr. Read is composing a domestic drama he introduces a very limited number of characters. Therefore, it's immediately apparent who the killer must be. (p. 30)
But, I submit, the suspense is not really supposed to involve who the killer may be, but rather what effect the revelation will have on Strickland. And this bit of suspense Mr. Read orchestrates to maximum effect…....
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Piers Paul Read tells a latter-day version of [Leo Tolstoy's "The Death of Ivan Ilych"] in "A Married Man."…
The male menopause is a familiar enough modern story, yet this is not static feudal Russia but late bourgeois Britain in an age of decadent inconsistencies: it continues the practice of marriage while devaluing conventions and domesticity; it institutionalizes self-interest while thriving on middle-class guilt…. [Protagonist Strickland's] pursuit of freedom simply complicates his hypocrisy. He remains married, but half wishes for the death of his wife and marriage to the mistress who would assist his new ambitions. So his quest leads to new falsehoods, fresh failures of understanding, new...
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The formula [for A Married Man] is familiar: a man of ordinary social dimensions is drawn inchmeal towards a pit of moral quicksand and then neatly pushed in. Usually the first step downward on this well-intentioned path is adultery, and so it is for Read's hero, John Strickland….
This might seem to militate against a suspenseful narrative, but in fact A Married Man, after a slow start, becomes a proper page-turner. In part this may be due to the fascination inherent in watching a prophecy fulfilled, à la Macbeth, but surely most of the book's hold on our interest derives from its hypnotic believability. All of Read's considerable (though self-effacing) artistry is directed...
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Read does not make much of a case for Catholicism, or for religion at all, in [his early novel, The Junkers]. He writes with apparent approval of those ex-Nazis who have repented and are now (the mid-1960s) working for a unified Europe even if the unity can only be achieved by the spread of Communist principles and power….
How far have Read's views changed since he wrote The Junkers? Neither author nor main character in Read's latest novel [A Married Man] seem to have any sympathies with Communism. John Strickland, family man, moderately successful barrister, takes up again at the age of 40 the Socialism in which he had first come to believe when he was an Oxford undergraduate....
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It is typical of Piers Paul Read that he should preface [A Married Man] with an Author's Note informing American readers about the difference in the English legal system between a solicitor and a barrister. Typical in that it recalls the generally sober, just-the-facts-please tone Read has assumed in previous novels like Monk Dawson and The Professor's Daughter, especially in the extended flatness of Polonaise. Read depends on the clarity and intelligence with which he states, rather than explores, his fictional materials…. Read contrives a shocker of a plot which convinced me of little more than that it was a shocker of a plot. For all the dispassionately careful observation in his...
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In The Villa Golitsyn two old schoolfellows are invited to Willy Ludley's villa in Nice. Willy's wife Priscilla needs their help because Willy appears to be drinking himself to death….
Before [Simon Milson] goes to Nice he is asked by his Foreign Office boss to discover from Ludley whether or not he was responsible for [an] act of treason back in 1963. The other suspect, Baldwin, is up for an important job and his name needs to be cleared before he gets it. Simon, who has little integrity, willingly agrees to spy on his old friend.
On the way to Nice Simon encounters a runaway English schoolgirl who joins the curious group of friends gathered around Willy at the Villa...
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[In The Villa Golitsyn Mr. Read] skilfully infiltrates an air of menace, of intense unease, over the daily events that quicken towards the tragedy at the end. He juggles his characters with almost Murdochian dexterity: there's gambolling both hetero and homosexual; there's mystery, fear, banging shutters.
But, except for Willy, it is hard to feel very much sympathy for any of the characters: often they seem to be mouthpieces rather than flesh and blood. This is not Piers Paul Read at his strongest—as in A Married Man—but he never fails to be an elegant craftsman.
Angela Huth, "Thrills and Bills" (© British Broadcasting Corp. 1981; reprinted...
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"If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country." Piers Paul Read's [The Villa Golitsyn] explores the implications of Forster's celebrated remark in a narrative of engrossing complexity….
In summary, the plot sounds like a Famous Five adventure peopled by drunks and sexual frustrates…. But Piers Paul Read tries to dignify the extravagant element in his novel by drawing a number of parallels between its various worlds. As Milson tries to understand the secret of Ludley's past, issues raised by remote historical events are reflected in contemporary personal crises. The original question—how could Ludley behave so...
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Breaches of etiquette come thick and fast in Piers Paul Read's The Villa Golitsyn, from insulting one's guests at dinner to talking about money—'it's too middle-class'—from drunkenness to incest and the seduction of a minor. Read has so many talents as a novelist that one is always expecting him to write a really first-class book and always feeling surprised as well as disappointed when he fails to live up to his promise. He is an entertaining storyteller. He is as interested in ideas as in people. He can explore other countries and cultures and seem quite at home in them. He plays well so many instruments; it is a pity that he falls down on the orchestration. Also, he is far too easily tempted into...
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Read, Piers Paul (Vol. 4)
Read, Piers Paul 1941–
Read, an English novelist, is the son of the poet and critic Sir Herbert Read. (See also Contemporary Authors, Vols. 23-24.)
Piers Paul Read is a young English novelist with a speciality: exposing false innocents. He writes cool little horror stories about decent, well-intentioned people who suddenly find themselves up to their lily-white necks in evil. Good but tragically unaware Germans before World War II (The Junkers), for instance. Or the rich English boy (Monk Dawson) who sets out to be a saint, rather as if he were joining a club. Almost sinisterly quiet in tone, Read is a sad, skilled connoisseur of the moral blindness that occurs when self-righteousness and self-interest try to be one.
If the late J. P. Marquand had been crossed with Graham Greene, The Professor's Daughter might well have been the literary result. Here Read has zeroed in on another moral elitist, American style. Henry Rutledge is a double aristocrat—a professor at Harvard and the scion of an old Yankee family. The sort of New Deal liberal who receives $3,500,000 from his parents as a little wedding gift….
Read never quite makes things clear. Clouding his own novelist's dilemmas with heavy melodrama, he kills off Henry with a bullet from the movement. Henry dies as ambivalently as he lived. Read has not so much shaped a resolution as confessed that he dare not imagine one. He seems paralyzed by suppressed hope the way other authors get paralyzed by suppressed despair.
Melvin Maddocks, "Hope Against Hope," in Time (reprinted by permission from Time, The Weekly Newsmagazine; copyright Time Inc.), October 25, 1971, pp. 92-4.
Piers Paul Read is a young English novelist of much talent and intelligence—cool, wry, tough intelligence—whose subject thus far has been disillusionment in its various contemporary manifestations. In his fine 1969 novel, "Monk Dawson," it is the disillusionment of a priest who flees the church in search of a more "relevant" life only to return, routed, to the sanctuary of the cloister. In "The Professor's Daughter" it is double disillusionment: of the young with their elders, and their elders with themselves….
What Mr. Read has made … is not precisely a generation-gap novel, though there is quite enough of that in it, but an inquiry into political styles; as such it is engaging and provocative, but Mr. Read in great measure defeats himself by wrapping it in thick layers of melodrama.
Jonathan Yardley, in The New York Times Book Review (© 1971 by The New York Times Company; reprinted by permission), November 7, 1971, pp. 38-9.
At the heart of The Upstart is a fine tension between the conservatism of its themes and settings and characters and the anarchic vigour of much of the action. The latter quality erupts suddenly and splendidly at the moment Hilary quits Cambridge—the last arena in which he has tried and failed to win the snobs' game—and plunges into a life of vice and crime and abstract art in SW6. This middle section of the book, with its outrageous coincidences and outrageous crimes, is a success, the more so because it is unexpected and because Mr Read maintains throughout his air of dispassionate objectivity. The prose remains dry, almost studious…. Very chilling….
The Upstart is a welcome book, particularly after the comparative failure of The Professor's Daughter. It has those qualities of unpredictability and wit and artistic ambition that distinguished Piers Paul Read's earlier novels; and it makes me, as I used to, look forward again to his next.
Peter Prince, "Humiliations," in New Statesman, September 7, 1973, p. 321.
Piers Paul Read's first novels, Game in Heaven with Tussy Marx and The Junkers, were clever, perceptive, elegantly written, but they gave some appearance of being difficult exercises he had set himself, ways of getting into training, rather than the kind of book he was best equipped to write. In Monk Dawson he seemed to have found his subject, a man's attempt in mid-twentieth century England to live according to his conscience and religious beliefs and his final decision that to remain true to his beliefs he had no alternative but to opt out of society and join a monastic order. In The Upstart the subject is similar, the conflict in one man between potential saint and actual sinner. Like the earlier books it is inventive and acutely observant, but after the first straightforward, scene-setting eighty pages the plot lurches into melodrama so lurid that the narrative strength, which is considerable, fails completely to keep disbelief suspended….
The melodrama is so blatant, there are so many coincidences and dei—or diaboli—ex machina, that one must presume it all to have been part of the author's purpose. Nevertheless, whatever the Grand Design may have been, it doesn't seem to me to have been achieved. It is as if a canvas had been started by Ford Madox Brown and finished by Hieronymus Bosch. After Monk Dawson, The Upstart is a comedown: a good read but an unsatisfactory Read.
John Mellors, in London Magazine, December, 1973–January, 1974, p. 155.
So astonishing a story [as Alive] would have been easy to sensationalise but Piers Paul Read tells it with beautiful judgement. Technically, he is superb, cutting his narrative vividly from scene to scene, never losing a moment of suspense or drama, nor sacrificing any of the forward impulse that grips the reader from start to finish….
Morally and emotionally, Mr Read is equally sure-footed….
He never pushes his moral messages, but rather lets them rise, questioningly and disturbingly, out of the reader's own reflections. He has in short, contrived a masterly piece of story-telling about a group of human beings who rose, in extremis, to heights beyond their own, or anyone else's expectations….
David Holden, "Blow-Out," in The Spectator (© 1974 by The Spectator; reprinted by permission of The Spectator), May 18, 1974, p. 611.
Alive is the story of the Uruguayan rugby team who … survived a winter plane crash high in the Andes mountains—a chilling tale of cannibalism and human survival, and a story that in its flat and careful telling will involve the reader as thoroughly as the best adventure novel….
Read is sufficiently sensitive and skillful in his narration that the cannibalism becomes only one facet of how the diverse personalities of the survivors changed during their trials….
Because Read makes each character real and distinct … the story gains a novelistic sort of depth. The lives most of us lead give no hint as to what we may be capable of; the value of stories like Alive is the way they remind us of the deepest strengths of the organism. By sighting on that, Read has risen above the sensational and managed a book of real and lasting value.
Michael Rogers, in Rolling Stone (© 1974 by Straight Arrow Publishers, Inc.; all rights reserved; reprinted by permission), May 23, 1974, p. 90.