trennels | Peter's room readthrough:chapters 7, 8 & 9

lilliburlero.livejournal.com posting in

Posting on behalf of

legionseagle, to whom, thanks once again.--L.B.

Three more chapters, taking us through to the end of Twelfth Night, and with Gondal and real life getting ever more entwined.

Lots of torture and betrayal here. First, of course, and straight out of the Claudius, King of Denmark playbook, we have the "kill the bearer of this dispatch" dispatch. (I am never quite sure what the recipient of a " kill the bearer of this dispatch" dispatch is supposed to do about it. I'm relieved to note that Navarre, at least, considers "one of Alcona's plots" as not only one option, but the most likely. Personally, if I'd been Angora and the dispatch had reached me as planned, my nostrils would have been thick with the stench of semi-decayed rodent, too.)

Then there's Lawrie's working in of her private backstory, which is in my view extremely well done. Interestingly, in the light of Nicola's nightmare in the next chapter, that it's she who says, "You can imagine much worse things than she could ever say". Another working through of the consistent character note that Nicola is at least as imaginative as Lawrie, but deals with it differently? Also, Nicola plays up to support Lawrie here as she later plays up to support Patrick, with her "Jolly sensible, too." It's a very rare example of her making her presence known.

Finally, of course, there's Patrick's betrayal. From an artistic standpoint and from the point of view of subverting obvious tropes his decision to have Rupert crumble not under torture but under fear of torture seems unquestionably the right one. Nevertheless, how Patrick chooses to do it – springing it on his fellow-players without warning, and making their own preparations null and void ("And I'd thought up some such good tortures, too") – is itself a betrayal. Furthermore, it produces yet another TMATT echo, the war-time Commando raid in which Foley "had a better idea" and which led to "the highest casualties of any of the smaller raids."

Patrick carries the day this time, mostly (shades of Mansfield Park again?) because his proposal gives Lawrie and Ginty's characters more chance of drama. However, it would be extraordinary if resentment didn't linger as a result, especially with treachery being such a – literally – unspeakable topic with Peter. Patrick wants to play with the "how would you feel if someone you liked and admired turned out to be a traitor?" plotline and it stopped being play for Peter nine months ago.

Any thoughts about whether Nicola's nightmare is prompted by sub-conscious unease about Gondal? It's apparently a recurring one, though one she has not had "for years" (before Kingscote, then.) I suspect it, too, of tying into her fear of ghosts.

I've always had a soft spot for this chapter, not least because Nicola is simultaneously brave and faintly ridiculous (I love Rowan's practical advice about which end one holds a poker for bashing purposes). Also, two Marlows having an honest and open conversation about their feelings, plans and intentions – wonders will never cease.

Somewhat surprised by Nicola's apparent ignorance at how one becomes a vet, and vicariously depressed on Rowan's behalf by the sheer dreariness of her current life and surroundings (and is Nicola the only person who's spotted it?)

No wonder the poor woman is starting to think of whisky as "one of the better inventions" (though I've no idea what hot water, glucose and whisky is going to do to the metabolism of new-born lambs – anyone from a farming background fancy supplying a view?)

The idea of Nicola and Rowan becoming "Two Terrible Tweedy Types known far and wide as The Queer Miss Marlows" is a frankly horrifying vision of a possible future; it's odd, in a way, that Nicola doesn't link the Brontes' urge to Gondal as part of their own attempt to mitigate a closely related lot in life.

Still, some insight into what Nick wants to do with her life, which struck me as alarmingly wild and wacky when I read it the first time, at the age of 13, but a lot later, having met people who actually had done that sort of thing, it starts to look like more of a plan (though I suspect Nick does not yet realise how much bar work is likely to be involved in the whole thing.)

I adore Rowan's non-plussed "Said I wasn't like Charlotte Bronte?" and also her deep suspicions that the lower deck are planning a surprise play – in terms of apples not falling far from the tree, despite the smell of manure, I think there's a broad streak of Madame Orly about Rowan and her ruthless judgements.

Following the pattern of two manageable chapters and one massive, packed one, we get, in quick succession:

1. Ginty riding Catkin – I shall leave it to the equine experts to comment on the details, here, though it certainly sounds at this point that Mrs Marlow has managed to pair the right pony with the right daughter in a way that does, in fact, bring out the best in both;
2. Preparations for the party, which I find personally hilarious, particularly "the gremlins had taken everyone's evening bags and shoes and hidden them away in drawers and cupboards where their rightful owners would never have dreamed of putting them."
3. Peter playing Daks at chess while being Malise playing in the finals of the army championship "which meant he had to win" (first time as tragedy, second time as farce?)
4. Lawrie's response to Ginty's "expensive and exclusive" bath salts with "I say, what a ghastly stink! What on earth is it?"
5. Doris's apotheosis as dressmaker of genius (I like the artistic temperament which makes her baulk at turning it into a profession, but I do find it a bit implausible – albeit necessary for dramatic purposes – that she doesn't make more of an effort with her own clothes. Nevertheless, another variant on the theme of people with rich creative inner lives hidden beneath workaday exteriors.)
6. Introduction to Meriot Chase, which seems to have even more implausible add-ons even than Trennels, including the rococo ball-room and the chapel.
7. Thoughts on the party? I know it's the 'fifties (or very early 'sixties) and the Merricks are landed gentry and an MPs family to boot, but isn't it all terribly formal? And how many are at it, anyway?
8. I love Nicola and Oliver Reynolds getting on well together mainly because of the bond of social awkwardness.
9. And Lawrie being found "roaring drunk" by her host on the back stairs.
10. And Rowan's success with the "gallant, mildly flirtatious old gentleman" and Karen "revolv[ing] with unexpected expertise" in the arms of Ronnie who was "in the Brigade and looked all that implied"*.
11. And the Marlows at the very end with the Merricks, like a much less embarrassing take on the Bennets after the Netherfield ball.

Of course, this leaves out the central question raised by the whole chapter. What on earth is that Merrick boy playing at? (I'm fairly clear what Ginty's playing at, though alternative takes gratefully received.) It's made more than a little stranger in that Patrick is simultaneously playing Rosina's lover and her father, who is manoeuvring to sabotage the relationship while taking a voyeuristic pleasure in watching it. If anyone wants to write fic from the case notes of a (much older) Patrick's (classically Freudian) psychotherapist, consider yourself prompted.

*I suspect Miss Forest may not quite have meant all that implied, but

lilliburlero wrote me this fic in the Renault Exchange which boldly goes wherever Forest may have fallen short as regards Ronnie the Guardsman. I heartily recommend it.

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From:

mrs-redboots.livejournal.com

The ball always rang very - horrendously - true to me, having been obliged to attend such events as a teenager. Mind you, I always looked nice - no ghastly white net that looked like a child's party-dress (I had those, too, over pink or blue nylon, but not when I was ball-going age).

From: (Anonymous)

I have to say that Doris turning into a fabulous dressmaker, despite not taking an interest in her own appearance, never really rang true for me. Surely someone with that good an eye for colour, style, etc, to the point of making up her own patterns even, would show an artistic aspect elsewhere.

but it's a lovely idea, a cinderella moment

-res23

Peter's room readthrough:chapters 7, 8 & 9

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