trennels | Peter's Room, chapter by chapter read-through: Chapters 10 and 11 (Reply)

Posting on behalf of

legionseagle, to whom, many thanks for a really incisive and thought-provoking set of discussion posts. And thanks to everyone for their contributions in comments.

--L.B.

These two chapters take us right through to the end of the book. They largely parallel End of Term in that Nicola goes from her lowest point in the whole book to her highest. Forest, though, as always in dialogue with the genre, doesn't allow this to wipe out what's gone before; relationships have fundamentally shifted in the course of the book (even more than in EoT) and what's lost will not be regained – although possibly Nicola's better understanding with Rowan is some compensation.

I argued at the outset that one of the themes of the book is the Marlows ceasing to be visitors and becoming part of the local scene. This chapter in my view is key to that, beginning with Rowan deciding that wearing a velvet cap (as a farmer) would be premature "till the Master or someone says so".

My personal sense of the chapter is that it it's one of Forest's great set pieces (usual disclaimers about being unable to speak to accuracy on equine matters, but it conveys a great sense of authenticity.)

Once again, a nice blend of social comedy and repressed tension. For me., I particularly like Mrs Marlow, smoking over the breakfast table and stubbing out cigarettes half-smoked. This dates the book almost more than when she later descends the stairs in full riding habit complete with top-hat, to what can reasonably be described as shock and awe on the part of her family.*

Nicola, of course (having suffered her second severely broken night in a row) is channelling her inner Pte Fraser ("Doom! Doom!") although, being Nicola, she's achieving this by stoical silence, Service spit-and-polish and shedding silent tears into the neck of the dog when she's sure no-one's looking.

Another sidelight: Karen having "the sunny confidence of the unteachably bad driver." I don't suppose the Dunning-Kruger effect had been described at the time, but we certainly see it in action there.

Arrival at the Merricks is particularly funny, with Rowan's borrowed horse (what is a "blood weed" when it's at home?) giving rise to all sorts of alarums on the Merrick gravel. Like Nicola, I find Ronnie Merrick much more endearing in borrowed ratcatcher, visibly conscious of a nervous system.

I also like Patrick flinging around the place being a complete arse, Sellars being unflappable, Ronnie's fervent "Now and later" when asked about jumping powder and the neurotic Hot Ginger swinging "to and fro like a dinghy from its painter in an uneasy sea".

And then my darling Buster. He really is charming in this chapter; making Nicola at home even more than he makes her shine. I particularly like the way everyone from the Master down recognises him instantly and treats him as a Nicola's character witness: "Well, she might be a bit inept, but if old Buster likes her – "

Love, too, the hound names; almost Shakespearean, especially Oriel, Hotspur and Galliard.

Interesting how Gondal affects the players in the hunting field. Lawrie uses it as a self-preservation strategy; Ginty is almost unaffected by it, at least visibly; Peter is driven by it to take risks he then hasn't the skills/nerve/confidence to bring off (so business as usual, then) and Patrick –

Patrick carries betrayal through to the point where he's still Gondalling even when he's almost killed Nicola (and, for that matter, given Marlow codes of proper behaviour and relative culpability, when he's still not sure his own old pony isn't horribly injured.) Thoughts? For me, that really is a chilling moment and if the chapter had ended there I think it would have been game, set and match for Karen's analysis of Gondalling as an unmitigated Bad Thing. Of which more in the next.

It doesn't end there, and I find the final pages some of the most perfectly evocative prose I know. Especially the ending; it's reminiscent of Jim Brading falling asleep in the soup at Pin Mill, and John Walker doing the same at Flushing – a young person completely done in by whole-hearted involvement in physical exercise.

Possibly that may be what Forest is saying about Gondal; it inhibits the ability to lose oneself in the moment, which Nicola experiences (which she then tries and fails to turn into poetry – reality preceding representation rather than the other way round.) In short, are Ginty, Peter, Patrick and Lawrie so lost in the Gondal fiction of the hunt that they become detached from the real life experience of it?

*Bets now being taken. Was her girlhood riding habit really constructed on the basis that since marriage and babies were a known bug, there had to be enough in the seams to let out to make sure of its longevity, or does she really have an extraordinary metabolism despite the eight babies? Or did she sink the last dregs of the Last Ditch in a new outfit?

Unlike a number of the commentators I do genuinely enjoy the Gondal sections; they certainly aren't deathless prose, but they aren't at all bad for what they are. And there are times for the Michelin two-star plateful and times for a well-earned cheese sandwich; likewise for self-indulgent swash-buckling.

Nevertheless, given the emotional impact of the previous chapter, the italicised portion now comes over as all rather wooden. Brief note of "Captain Roncesvalles" – unconscious echoes of a last stand? Also, belated recognition on Rupert's part that the plotting includes a classic "idiot plot" – the forged dispatch is directly contrary to the recollections of all four others as to the contents of the originals, and it only needs someone to compare notes and he's done.

Another Foley echo – "It occurred to him to wonder … whether such sanctuary would be worth the seeking."

Interesting that the only time Nicolas Brenzaida is given any characterisation at all is almost at the last gasp of the Gondal: "And I would not. He may burn for all of me."

Not Nicola's normal style, that. Either she's suddenly decided to act, or she's exasperated beyond measure by the betrayal in the hunting field.

And then Rupert's suicide posturing. And Patrick pulling out information he knows (must know) Peter doesn't have, in order to wound as hard as he can (lawyer speak here; the thin skull rule. Peter has a particularly thin skull as regards treachery. Patrick doesn't know it. Nevertheless, he takes his chances when he takes this line.). And the (probably improbable, but nevertheless) gun incident.

One of the things I never understood at the time I first read this is why Nicola saving Patrick's life – as she undoubtedly does – is probably the biggest breach between them that could be (mind you, I read Sayers because of Forest, and not vice versa.)

I also didn't appreciate then – but do now – how Nicola's "I don't care if it's a billion to a quarter" shows how far she's grown up in what is about three-and-a-half weeks, from when she tried to argue issues of family democracy about Buster with Patrick.

Any thoughts about the post-Gondal ending? Round-up? Over-arching themes? Was the writer of the blurb copy right after all?