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Post by dem bones on Aug 8, 2022 18:25:57 GMT
Robert Marasco - Burnt Offerings (Coronet, 1974: originally Hodder & Stoughton, 1973) "The house is just about all the world she knows. It's her life. And vice versa. The whole thing would just come down without her." Desperate to quit their horrible, pokey New York apartment for the summer, Marian arranges for she, husband, Ben, and David, their 8-year-old son, to view a house on Shore Drive, which is now available to lease at a "very reasonable" rent should you be "the right people." Ben, a teacher, is set against the idea, and that's even before he claps eyes on the property — a massive, once-glorious mansion fallen into disrepair. What was Marian thinking? No way can they afford to spend twenty minutes here, let alone eight weeks. Except they can, because Roz and Arnold Allardyce are agreed that the Rolfe's tick all the right people boxes. $900 in two payments and 17 Shore Drive — 200 acres of prime waterfront property with library, pool, and greenhouse reeking of dead plant — will be theirs for the peak summer months of July and August. Ben has every right to be sceptical. "I'm waiting for the catch." Roz and crippled, ever-so-slightly creepy, and quite probably certifiable brother come clean. The Rolfe's won't have the property entirely to themselves. Their reclusive 85-year-old mother comes with the property. "You'll never even know she's around. All you have to do is leave a tray for her three times a day. Just put it on her table in the sitting room." No need for them ever to see one another. In fact, she'd prefer it that way. Turns out the Allardyces let the house biannually to allow themselves a vacation. They lovingly trot out the names of all those lovely people have looked after "our darling" and her pride and joy down the years. Strange how they loved the recluse and her estate so much they never come back. Ben hates - and even fears - the prospect of living in the house, but he knows of old that Marian will make their lives a misery until she gets their way. P. 74 of 238. Among the first novels I read, now long faded from memory. My only difficulty with it now (and I'm sure it would have been even more so in my youth) is that it took me less than a chapter to realise I detest the Rolfe's who, presumably, we're supposed to be rooting for. TBC.
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Post by Jojo Lapin X on Aug 8, 2022 18:52:17 GMT
Among the first novels I read This got me thinking about what the first novel I read myself could have been. I forced my father to read TARZAN AND THE GOLDEN LION to me at bedtime, but I think I learned to read somewhere along the way and finished it myself. It ends with a cliffhanger with regard to a secondary character, who we last see a prisoner facing an uncertain future. This blew my mind, and set the standard for what I expect from fiction. I had no idea that the story continued and was resolved in the next volume. |
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Post by dem bones on Aug 10, 2022 9:55:21 GMT
Among the first novels I read This got me thinking about what the first novel I read myself could have been. I forced my father to read TARZAN AND THE GOLDEN LION to me at bedtime, but I think I learned to read somewhere along the way and finished it myself. It ends with a cliffhanger with regard to a secondary character, who we last see a prisoner facing an uncertain future. This blew my mind, and set the standard for what I expect from fiction. I had no idea that the story continued and was resolved in the next volume. Tarzan also featured among my very earliest reading experiences, though it was an annual, not a novel. Think it was predominantly comic strips, with a few text stories and/ or articles. Had an illustrated 'Robinson Crusoe' too, acquired from a church fête, most likely. Fairly certain the first book I bought from my paper round cash was one of either Aidan Chambers' Haunted Houses or Richard Garrett's Great Sea Mysteries (bought over consecutive paydays). Despite my indifference to the Rolfe's, Burnt Offerings has drawn me in. The Rolfe's, with a 70-something Aunt Elizabeth in tow, arrive. As it's Marian's fault that they are, to all intents and purposes, caring for a geriatric recluse, it's only fair that she ready her meals. Maybe she should let Mrs. Allardyce know they've arrived? Marion heads over to the West Wing, crosses a sitting room, and raps on a white door with peculiar carvings. No reply — just a persistent humming from within. Marian's attention is drawn to a table covered in framed photographs; portraits of persons in every manner of dress from the turn of the century to the present, their expressions grim unsmiling, and in some cases, apparently terrified. These would be "The memories of a lifetime" Roz was gushing about. Ben, determined to make a go of things, sets to cleansing the pool and exploring the grounds. It's an adventure playground for sure. The remnants of a tennis court. An old family graveyard. A decrepit boathouse ... A first swim in the pool. Ben gets carried away during some "playful" rough housing with his son and good as drowns the little turd until his panicked flailing splits dad's lip. Ben is distraught. "Maybe I blacked out or went crazy or something, I don't know — but I couldn't control myself. I didn't know what I was doing. Hell, it's worse. I did know, and I couldn't stop myself." The dead plants are perking up. |
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Post by cauldronbrewer on Aug 10, 2022 14:50:42 GMT
Despite my indifference to the Rolfe's, Burnt Offerings has drawn me in. It's been a while since I read Burnt Offerings, but I liked it at the time. Are we even supposed to sympathize that much with the Rolfes? I seem to recall the novel treating with them a sort of cold detachment. |
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Post by dem bones on Aug 13, 2022 9:05:21 GMT
Despite my indifference to the Rolfe's, Burnt Offerings has drawn me in. It's been a while since I read Burnt Offerings, but I liked it at the time. Are we even supposed to sympathize that much with the Rolfes? I seem to recall the novel treating with them a sort of cold detachment. You're right, he treats them like bugs under the microscope. Guess I'm not used to falling out of sympathy with the victims (?) so soon into a novel. It's mentioned in friend Grady Hendrix's Paperbacks from Hell Marasco intended it as a black comedy, but "it just came out black." Marian is behaving as if the property is hers for keeps, devoting all her energy to cleaning, tidying, rearranging furniture, fondling antiques. It helps that the estate is discreetly repairing itself; she explained away the miraculously mended water pump as simply a case of an appliance righting itself. She hopes Ben doesn't notice that the grass is looking lush and the paving stones are cracked and broken no longer. No sooner has Ben cleared the air with his son than he goes off half cocked at his wife. Exasperated at a sudden lack of sex life, he attempts to impose himself. Marian fights him off, goes back to fussing over her lovely house. It's actually reminding me of something Bernard Taylor would write. |
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