Hello
Gentle Reader
Writes
are mercurial creatures. Some are as reserved as hermit crabs, who after
tenacious aggravation and motivation are provoked to speak, only after being
forcefully extracted from their hovel and home, whereupon they impart a few
pearls and words, only to slink away, back to their retreat and hideaway, safe
from prying eyes and prodding fingers. Others are more open and opinionated,
who view their position as a writer to be more than just a story teller, but a
social observer, and that their arguments, criticisms, and recommendations must
be backed up with speaking engagements. This does not mean, however, that all
writers fit into either category. There are writers who are socially observable
writers who do not engage points of conversation or media rallies. There are
writers who are not socially observable, but engage in social events and
marketing maneuvers to sell their books and find a greater audience, and gain
more money. When I imagine Alice Munro, I see a socially observable woman, with
a keen eye for the extraordinary in the mundane. The short story master
contemplated the mundane and the lives of her fellow people, with a curious and
speculative gaze, and crafted beautiful narratives of their unique, tragic,
personal and private lives, which are hidden and masked behind our shadowy
encounters, and passing greetings. Yet Alice Munro was not renowned or well
known for speaking engagements or attending social soirees. She sat at her kitchen
table and wrote by hand, while rearing children and performing the societal
expectations of being a house wife. Though she never complains about the
cooking or the cleaning she did, or raising her children, she speaks of these
events with a matter of fact tone, though the press and media early in her
career chose to fixate and exaggerate these realities as a contrast to her
creative talents and pursuits. Doris Lessing on the other hand was the complete
opposite.
Doris
Lessing was not a housewife, she in fact left her children and first husband
behind in what was then Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) as she left for London with the
manuscript of her first novel in her suitcase. Lessing was criticized for this
move, as she was accused of putting her literary ambitions before her children.
When Doris Lessing died in two-thousand and thirteen (shortly after Alice
Munro, received the news she was a Nobel Laureate herself) many obituaries
praised and offered ambivalent perspectives of the deceased nonagenarian. She
was praised for her uncanny ability to slip between genres and literary modes
of writing—she’s famously written with unapologetic air, science fiction, and
embraced the term; but has denied and refuted the term feminist. When
discussing Doris Lessing as a mother, she is famously quoted stating:
“There
is nothing more boring for an intelligent woman than to spend endless amounts
of time with small children.”
In
this regard she is portrayed as a reptilian creature, lacking any resemblance
of maternal warmth of mother intuition. When an interviewer inquired about her
children she would respond in an irritable incisive manner, which halted any
further inquiries. In her biography she justifies the abandonment of her
children with sincere and naïve idealism, how she was going to change the
world, be a driving force of logic and reason to end racial hatred and
tensions, social injustices, and concepts of war, and bring around a greater
more utopian world. She believed this at the time with great sincerity. But as
she points out viciously in her autobiography, there isn’t much to be said
about sincerity in itself. Doris Lessing is also the kind of writer who vouched
and believed in her social causes. She as not content to sit away and write all
day and remain silent on other fronts. She would voice her opinions in
interviews and on televised debates; she protested and demonstrated; she even
for a while was a member of the Communist Party of England, and was surveyed by
MI5. As she grew older, the sincerity and overt idealism died; but her caustic,
vitriolic, caustic and incisive perspective remained clear and straightforward.
She would not flounder in her early youthful ideals, but instead formed her own
opinions of what was wrong with the world and documented them with unflinching
and scathing glare. As an individual she gathered the reputation of being
steely, sarcastic, straightforward, no nonsenses, acerbic, candid, and to the
point. She suffered no fool, and made a point of ensuring that was clear, and
if any wished to play court in her kingdom they had better be prepared to
suffer her judgements for their impudence or lack of intelligent questions.
As
a writer—and on a personal note—I’ve found Doris Lessing to be one of those
most coarse writers I’ve read. Her work is not polished. It lacks poetic
initiative. It lakes lyrical ingenuity. It comes across as rough as gravel and
plainspoken as the vernacular on the street. Her narratives are often
overwrought and overwritten, and it can be clearly seen where she the fuel is
dripping, and where she has realized perhaps she has bitten off more than she
thought she could chew, let alone digest. “The Golden Notebook,” from my memory
was both an exercise in tenacity and endurance as a reader, and has still put
me off books which exceed three hundred pages. If nothing can be said in less
than that I doubt it’s worth reading—there are of course exceptions. The
experience, however, was draining and still leaves me shuddering. Her points
were often too clear, and once again the sheer plainness of her language left
something to be desired. Her novel “The Good Terrorist,” made my stomach roll.
The social idealistic novel has always made me cringe, and once again its
language was as plain as the day. Doris Lessing was famous for her novels of
ideas, of social criticisms, and of course her candor and ironic deliveries
during interviews. The woman famously touted, when she heard she had won the
Nobel Prize for Literature in two-thousand and seven, “Oh Christ,” and sloughed
it off as a “Royal Flush.” As a character, individual, and commentator Doris
Lessing has always been a bit more interesting; her works themselves, always
seem to be overwritten and the stylistic failure to apply some sense of
lyricism to her language, has never helped her cause.
Doris
Lessing is however remarkable as an individual. It can be clearly seen early
on, how she would always find herself situated against societal norms and the
moral grounds of the time. She saw injustice and racial prejudices as disgusting
failure of both moral pedigree and fiber, and was mocked and told to keep her
head down and her opinions to herself. She has stated she quarreled with her
mother throughout her childhood, and would be described by today’s standards as
a tomboy of sorts. She adored and loved her father, who was damaged by the
First World War, which left him crippled and bitter. She understood then as a
child, her parents were severely mismatched. Her mother was an intellectual and
social creature, who loved and adored the parties and social gatherings of the
time, while the family lived in then Persia (now Iran). Her father, however,
moved them all to Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) to seek his riches as a farmer.
Needless to say they were never found. While in Zimbabwe, her mother lost her
social connections and gatherings, and dotted on her daughter, which only lead
to arguments and rebellions. Her parents in a way resented each other, and
their lives. In her last novel “Alfred and Emily,” Doris Lessing reimagines
their lives, free from the First World War’s shadow, and free from each other.
Her mother Emily, goes on to live an intellectually prosperous life and
marriage in London; while her father never suffered any injury during the war,
and would seek and find his riches. In the end they are happiest and fulfilled
when apart. But the past is not easily re-written or reimagined, and neither
Alfred nor Emily Lessing, had any resemblance to the lives their daughter would
envision for them eight decades later. Her first marriage at the age of
nineteen to a respectable man (civil servant) ten years her senior had proven
to be loveless and mismatched. As already stated, Lessing would abandon this
man and her two children—John and Jean—as she left for London in nineteen-forty
nine. The story is portrayed unsavorily.
Lessing is depicted as this selfish creature, who simply one day
abandons her children and her husband and never returns; the truth is, Doris
Lessing had moved out of the house six years prior, worked as a typist, and was
barred from seeing or spending time with her children. It was punitive action
by society and its moral norms of the time, to keep the two parties apart and
escape any immoral and corrupting influences. Ever bull headed and convicted to
personal virtue, Doris Lessing refused to sentence herself to a loveless
marriage and child rearing, and left in nineteen-forty nine to create a better
world—which she actively sought to do, though she never did. Her relationship
with John and Jean is not well known, though it was said they were cordial with
each other, but in a sense strangers at the same time.
While
in London she would engage in radical circles (such as the communists and far
left movements) and fight for a better world, whereupon she would toast to
peace. A better world never came. She saw the rise and fall of the Nazi’s in
Germany, the rise and fall of the Soviet Union, and the collapse of imperialism
and colonialism. She was banned from South Africa and Zimbabwe. As she grew
older, she grew more stern and more sarcastic, she appears as a no nonsense and
sensible matron, though elusive in being pigeonholed. She fought on all fronts
against enemies created, found, or made up; and never apologized for being
vicious or vitriolic in her delivery. In her Nobel acceptance speech said it
with dry wit: “there isn’t anywhere to go from here is there? Unless some
exemplars—recent ones—I could get a pat on the head from the pope.”
Wizened
and controversial; unapologetic and aphetic; ironic and sarcastic; idealistic
and cynical—Doris Lessing has always proven to be enigmatic, and never quite
predictable. She was a strong figure, in a very small and dare I say it: squat,
body. She spoke plainly and wrote candidly. Much like Patricia
Highsmith, I admire Doris Lessings’ character (though with much less
trepidation, than I do Highsmith) her candor, straightforward, and dry wit.
Despite never being formally educated, she proves that being a curious and
voracious reader has its benefits, when more traditional routes are lacking. She wrote
a lot of series, and I would like to read “The Children of Violence,” series; I
know I have little forgiveness and endurance in order to work my way through a
series. Doris Lessing is a writer to take stock of and contemplate.
Thank-you
For Reading Gentle Reader
Take
Care
And
As Always
Stay
Well Read
M.
Mary
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