Still Life by Sarah Winman

  

Our Rating 4.5⭐s

You can buy "Still Life"...here

You can find out about the author...here

• The Blurb...

1944, Italy. As bombs fall around them, two strangers meet in the ruined wine cellar of a Tuscan villa and share an extraordinary evening.

Ulysses Temper is a young British soldier, Evelyn Skinner a 64-year-old art historian living life on her own terms. She has come to salvage paintings from the wreckage of war and relive memories of her youth when her heart was stolen by an Italian maid in a particular room with a view. Ulysses’ chance encounter with Evelyn will transform his life – and all those who love him back home in London – forever.

Uplifting, sweeping and full of unforgettable characters, Still Life is a novel about beauty, love, family and friendship.

• Our Review...

This is a very different book for me to read, totally not of my usual fare. I normally go in for twisty plots, thrilling chase to a climatic end and a denouement of the arch villain. This book isn't like that. It is akin to a family saga (although the protagonists are mostly unrelated) that covers roughly 75 years from about 1900 on. It does so in two stages 1945 to 75ish and the last part of the book relates to Evelyn remembering her early twenties.

Evelyn and Ulysses cross paths during the war and the story follows them as they weave their way through the subsequent years until they both end up where they first met in Florence, birth place of the Renaissance. Indeed Florence is as much a presence in this book as any of the characters. It and its art and its architecture and its soul are intertwined in every chapter. You would do well to keep a phone or PC next to you when reading this book to look up the numerous works of art and areas of the city that are constantly mentioned throughout. I only did this towards the end of the novel and wished I had started doing so earlier.

So the author clearly has a huge passion for both Florence and the appreciation of art. The love of art in this narrative is borderline obsessive with a sprinkle of pretentiousness. hence the 4.5 instead of 5 stars. Maybe I am a bit too basic in my outlook. I think art is a pleasure in life, this novel puts art on a level with love as being one of the vital drivers of life which is a little bit of a reach for me. I suppose the pursuit of art becomes more of a priority if you don't have to think about where your next meal, or the payment for the roof over your head is coming from. This is not a criticism, it is just my lived experience. 

The decades long soap opera of a story follows the working class found family of Ulysses in London's East End and the life and loves of Evelyn a teacher and art lover from a very privileged background, who comes across many famous artists and authors including a young E.M. Forster. The cast is wide and deep including a very wise old man, who doesn't really know how wise he is, a love interest who is hard as nails and a heartbreaker and the most intelligent and linguistically gifted parrot in the whole of literature. Life happens to them all. Lifelong unrequited love, coming of age, loss, friendship, good luck, bad luck and serendipity. Fortunes are never too good nor too bad but a little of both and at often at the same time. From the book I think the lesson is it matters not what tribulations may come it is how we face them that is of more importance. And the best way to do this is with friends and above all kindness. What can I say, I like books with a moral compass.

However, where this book towers above the herd is how the author delivers the big poignant moments in life. You don't read this book, you feel it. It'll make you double cry, tears of both happiness and despair.  There are times in life e.g. when your father passes away or when you hold your grandchild in your arms for the first time, when time stops, and you connect with...with well everything and the author conveys these many moments in this novel. The sweet sadness of life and the sad sweetness of death tear on the threads in your emotions. It feels as if you are living the opening scene of Disney's "Up" or that scene from Jon Voight's "The Champ." It is amazing to think that just looking at words in a book can induce such wild emotions in the reader. It really is a kind of magic or legal drug dealing. Sarah Winman should change her name to Houdini Escobar. Wow.. just wow.

• Selected Quotes...

The man was a dreamer, he said. Had a loser’s luck and a winning smile and was never happy unless he had a churn in his guts that denoted money riding on an outcome. A feeling he often equated to love.

We like beauty, don’t we? Something good on the eye cheers us. Does something to us on a cellular level, makes us feel alive and enriched. Beautiful art opens our eyes to the beauty of the world, Ulysses. It repositions our sight and judgement. Captures forever that which is fleeting.

She’s gone up in the world. Typist. Sixty words a minute and that’s just her gob.

You’re a good mum, Peg. No I’m not but it’s good of you to say. Your mum was a good mum, Temps. That’s what a good mum is. Mine was competition.

Her beauty had been her currency. Always had been. No one talked about when the bank ran dry as it inevitably would.

We shall be at war one day with your European brothers, as you call them, Mr Collins. It’s inevitable, said Mr Lugg. They’re not like us. But they want what we have. And do we not want what they have, Mr Lugg? Michelangelo? Dante? Beauty? Wine on a sun-drenched terrace? Villas nestled in the hills going for a song? Mr Lugg ignored Mr Collins and reached for a plate of stinking goat’s cheese. Yes, but will you fight? said the reverend, bringing the conversation back to British imperialism. It’s a simple question. For what cause? said Mr Collins. Cause is irrelevant. Cause is not irrelevant. To teach another nation a lesson, then, said the reverend. A nation is not a person. And so I will not.

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      Sarah Winman author of Still Life

Mick Herron; The New Charles Dickens?

 

While recently re-reading the wonderful Mick Herron's Slow Horses, a re run of Oliver the musical was on the TV. This serendipitous coincidence led me to muse on the writings of both master story tellers. I began to jot down a few similarities, the list grew quite quickly. Here are some of my more coherent thoughts ...

Mick Herron's Slough House series and Charles Dickens' works, particularly Oliver Twist, share striking similarities, especially in their portrayal of misfits, institutional corruption, and the grim reality of London. Both authors use a cast of eccentric, flawed characters to critique the failings of the system, a system that spits out those it deems unworthy.

​The Unlikely Mentors: Jackson Lamb and Fagin

At the heart of both narratives are morally ambiguous patriarchs who preside over a group of outcasts. Jackson Lamb, the flatulent and slovenly head of Slough House, is a modern-day Fagin. Like Fagin, Lamb is a master manipulator who thrives on the margins, using the failures of others to secure his own position. He's a cynical, often cruel, mentor to his "slow horses." Just as Fagin's gang of pickpockets is a family born of circumstance and survival, the slow horses are a family forged in professional purgatory. Lamb's decrepit office, a mirror of Fagin's squalid den, is both a refuge and a prison. It's a place where the unwanted are given purpose, however inglorious that purpose may be.

​The Aspiring Apprentices: River Cartwright and the Artful Dodger

​Within this motley crew, the young, ambitious, and often reckless River Cartwright stands in for the Artful Dodger. River, like the Dodger, is full of bluster and a misplaced sense of competence. He has a quick wit and a desire to prove himself, but his impulsiveness and a naive belief in the righteousness of the system often get him into trouble. While the Dodger's aspirations are criminal, River's are noble—he wants to be a "real" spy. Both characters are defined by their potential, their street smarts, and their struggle to navigate a world that has branded them as failures. The Dodger is an expert pickpocket; River, for all his mistakes, has a certain raw talent for espionage.

​The Tragic Figures: Kathryn Standish and Miss Havisham

​The parallel between Kathryn Standish and Miss Havisham (not from Oliver Twist but from Great Expectations) is one of profound sadness and shattered lives. Just as Miss Havisham's world stopped on her wedding day, Kathryn's life was irrevocably broken by the death of her boss and hero Charles Partner. Both women are trapped in a past they cannot escape. Standish, like Havisham, is a haunting presence, a figure of melancholic despair. Her struggles with alcoholism and her constant emotional fragility are a testament to her arrested development, a life on pause. She serves as a poignant reminder of the collateral damage caused by the cold, unforgiving world of espionage, much as Miss Havisham embodies the tragic consequences of a life consumed by bitterness and a broken heart.

​The Institution and the City: Slough House and Victorian London 

​Mick Herron's Slough House is a physical embodiment of the broken bureaucracy of MI5, much like the workhouses and legal systems of Victorian London were to Dickens. Both authors use their settings as characters in themselves. Slough House, with its decaying facade and stench of failure, is as much a symbol of systemic decay as the smog-choked, crime-ridden streets of London in Dickens' novels. Both environments are teeming with misfits and those abandoned by society, forced to fend for themselves in a world that has no use for them. Herron, like Dickens, masterfully crafts a world that is simultaneously bleak and darkly comedic, exposing the absurdity and cruelty of institutions that prioritise power over people.

The brooding bullies: Lady Diana Taverner and Bill Sikes 

Every story needs a bad guy/boogeyman. Ours are both compelling antagonists who embody different facets of a ruthless world, yet share a core similarity in their unwavering focus on self-preservation and control. Both are intimidating personalities and they know others see them as such. Both use this fear of themselves to their  own advantage. Both have a position of power over our protagonists (Lamb and Fagin.) While Taverner operates within the polished, bureaucratic world of MI5 and Sikes in the grimy underworld of Victorian London, both characters are defined by their ambition and their willingness to use others as a means to an end.

​Taverner, often referred to as "Lady Di," is the quintessential modern-day schemer, using manipulation and political manoeuvring to climb the ladder at MI5. Her primary motivation is to ascend to the top position, "First Desk," and she views people, including her colleagues, as pawns in a long-game chess match. She is an embodiment of the "new corporate world of espionage," where image and success matter more than principles.  This parallels Bill Sikes's brutal and pragmatic approach to his criminal enterprises. Sikes, a professional burglar and murderer, uses intimidation and violence to assert his dominance and ensure his survival. While his methods are primitive and visceral compared to Taverner's calculated psychological warfare, the end goal is the same: to get what he wants, regardless of the human cost.  Both characters maintain a tight grip on those around them, demanding absolute loyalty and obedience. Taverner's cold and superior demeanour instils fear in her subordinates, a tactic she is "definitely aware" of and uses to "turn up the volume." Sikes's control is more overt and physically brutal, exemplified by his abusive relationship with Nancy. Both characters see emotional attachments as vulnerabilities. Taverner's lack of empathy is a key part of her personality, allowing her to make ruthless decisions without a second thought. Sikes, though a "somewhat conflicted character" with a "small spark of compassion," ultimately proves his monstrous nature by killing Nancy when he perceives her as a threat to his position and freedom. The two characters, despite their vastly different settings, are united by their shared nature as cold, calculating individuals who prioritise their own interests above all else.

The former colleagues now the harbingers of doom: Jacob Marley and Dickie Bow.

Even minor characters echo each other e.g. a former colleague's death plays heavily on our protagonist's mind. Something is amiss. Our protagonist feels an overwhelming need to correct a wrong. Could Jacob Marley be a precursor to Dickie Bow (which in itself sounds like a Dickensian name!) 

The evolution of descriptive scene setting.

It's not just in the characters I see Dickens influence. Some of the descriptive writing is eerily reminiscent of Dickens. I place before you a sample of A Tale Of Two Cities 

"There was a steaming mist in all the hollows, and it had roamed in its forlornness up the hill, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none. A clammy and intensely cold mist, it made its slow way through the air in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another, as the waves of an unwholesome sea might do. It was dense enough to shut out everything from the light of the coach-lamps but these its own workings, and a few yards of road; and the reek of the labouring horses steamed into it, as if they had made it all."

Now, compare to this to Herron's description of the darkness of  night creeping over London in London Rules.

When dusk at last comes it comes from the corners, where it’s been waiting all day and seeps through Slough House the way ink seeps through water; first casting tendrils, then becoming smoky black cloud and at last being everywhere, the way it always wants to be. Its older brother night has broader footfall, louder voice, but dusk is the family sneak, a hoarder of secrets. In each of the offices it prowls by the walls, licking the skirting boards, testing the pipes and out on the landings it fondles doorknobs, slips through keyholes, and is content. It leans hard against the front door – which never opens, never closes –and pushes softly on the back, which jams in all weathers; it presses down on every stair at once, making none of them creak, and peers through both sides of each window. In locked drawers it hunts for its infant siblings, and with everyone it finds it grows a little darker. Dusk is a temporary creature, and always has been. The faster it feeds, the sooner it yields to the night."

When comparing the two it's like comparing a photo of my son to a photo of my mother. They are different but the same genes can clearly been seen to run through both. 

And finally...

Of course all of this is just conjecture. If I may create an idiom car crash I might say my ramblings may be the delusions of a fan trying to hammer a round peg into a square hole with his with his rose coloured glasses and tunnel vision blinkers on. Or perhaps I'm barking up the wrong tree. Whatever the answer I would hate if Mr Herron ended up flogging a dead horse. It doesn't really matter where he gets his inspirations as long as his Slow Horses series continue galloping along. Thank you for listening to my Ted Talk 😁

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