Skip to main content

The elusive prime

Henry and I have just finished Muriel Spark’s excellent short novel The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. No doubt, many people will be more familiar with the cinematic version of 1969, but I must say the book is far better, for the usual reasons (nuance and depth not the least).

Upon some reflection on our recent reading habits, we have deliberately chosen a ‘feminine’ novel to mix things up a bit. I have been worried about Henry’s escalating assertive masculinity, and figured that a book written by a woman, set in a girl’s school and ostensibly about a ‘strong’ women in her prime would offer a counter balance to the raging testosterone that has taken over the house.

Having not read any Murial Spark previously, let’s just say that I was taken by surprise. I was taken aback by the complexity of the narrative and plot. This is a book rich and original in style. In terms of delivering a ‘feminine’ voice, I guess it did that. I am not sure if it delivers a message that will be helpful for Henry to hear however! You see, the feminine voice was overwhelmingly Machiavellian in its intent, with all of her characters (except, of course, all of the men and the regrettably stupid Mary McGregor) exhibiting rather base moral frameworks and motivations.

What struck me most was the rather tragic figure that Miss Jean Brodie – a woman in her prime – eventually becomes. It is also an intriguing reflection on the costs of focusing all of one’s attention on the crème de la crème. I will refrain from saying more and risk spoiling the book, for I recommend it highly to all readers.

What I would like to briefly do is reflect for one moment on the notion of one’s prime. I once believed that my prime occurred between the ages of 19 and 24. Yet now I am starting to recognise that this period is better understood as perhaps my early prime. It has been no doubt my physical prime, but I am starting to think that I have another prime to look forward to.

Thus, despite the novel being exceptionally bleak in tone, I do take some solace in Miss Brodie’s exhortation to her students from early in the novel:
“One's prime is elusive. You little girls, when you grow up, must be on the alert to recognise your prime at whatever time of your life it may occur.”
There may be hope for me yet!

Comments

Creme de la creme. One of not only my favoitite books but authors. The ballad of Peckham Rye and Momento Mori to name two. Not your usual girly writer, which is one I liked her. Gritty and ascerbic. This book and what is one's Prime lingers long after the final page, and yes mcuh better than the film.
Kris McCracken said…
I have penciled in those two that you mention in my "must read" list. It is a wonderful book, and certainly has left an impression on me.

Popular posts from this blog

Lost inside an adorable illusion and I cannot hide, I'm the one you're using, please don't push me aside, we could've made it cruising, yeah.

Yes it is Theme Thusday again, and today we are talking GLASS . I've three possible hooks to hang my [glass] hat on with this theme. First, the photo! Yes, it is the river again from an odd angle in an interesting light. You can just make out the bottom, which should tell you that I'm right on the shore. In some ways, the distortion of the stones below the surface reminds me of ye olde glass windows, what they call "cylinder blown sheet glass". You can still find some of this around Hobart these days. Thw second link comes from a trip I took to Venice a few years back. You're probably aware that Venice was (is?) a glass-making centre of excellence. If you have ever been there and taken the tour of the glass factories, you might be familiar with the sheer amount of coloured glass that sits at the bottom of the water there. These fragments of glass have been worn down and had their edges dulled by their time in the water, which makes them ample keepsakes for the ...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Happy anniversary baby, got you on my mind

No it is not a webcam, but this photograph was taken a mere forty-five ago on my way in to work. Here you can see a good old fashioned Hobart autumn morning, with the rain pelting down and me getting drenched. This one was taken on the corner of Macquarie and Elizabeth, while I was waiting for the lights to change. Come on Ampelmännchen ! Today is my wedding anniversary, an apparently I need to be showering Jen with leather -related goodies. Va-va-vaVOOM! To you Jennifer, here is a poem I wrote this very morning. Anniversary I love you i love you iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I LOVE you I love YOU iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I LOVE YOU iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou Happy anniversary