The Papers of Samuel Marchbanks - Robertson Davies (1985)

Robertson Davies is a favorite author, not without reason as my previous reviews on this site attest, and The Papers of Samuel Marchbanks provide yet another reason why those who read Davies love his work and why those who don't read him should.

The Papers are collected from several separate Marchbanks books spanning decades. The conceit is simple and timeworn: Davies claims he is simply editing the diary entries or essays of a friend, the curmudgeonly Samuel Marchbanks, and this allows him to write the material in the voice of Marchbanks and then comment on it in his own, or, at least, in a voice which uses his own name.

The first part, "The Diary of Samuel Marchbanks," purports to be a year in the life of "a Canadian during one of the early years of the Atomic Age." The entries swerve back and forth madly from politics to small town life to battles with a recalcitrant furnace.

The second part, "The Table Talk of Samuel Marchbanks," is a series of short topics for discussion at dinner parties arranged by course. This, once again, allows cantankerous digressions on whatever topic comes to mind, with explanation and apologia by Davies.

The third part, "Marchbanks' Garland," is more of the same, but also some (manufactured) epistles. The epistolary novel is a difficult form to carry off effectively, and, by using it as part of the book rather than as the sole structural element, Davies brings it off admirably.

Ultimately this is a lovely collections of literary "small bites," that one can read in dribs and drabs. It's a great bedside book, since the lack of any overarching plot means that one can read just a few pages or paragraphs whenever one has the time. The style is, as always with Davies, smooth and engaging. It is serviceable as an introduction to Davies for novices but is quite rewarding for old hands as well.

Overall Grade: B+

One-Half of Robertson Davies - Robertson Davies (1977)

This book, subtitled "Stories, Lectures, Secular Sermons," is a collection of speeches written by Davies over the years to be delivered at various occasions - after dinner speeches, eulogies or memoriams, graduation addresses and the like. As such they cover a wide range of topics, each one suitable to the audience, whether it is undergraduate writing students or an association of professional architects. Each individual piece is short, or at least shortish, and although the subject matter is diverse the wit and humanity of Davies shines through in each piece.

Davies, as I have written before, is a very human writer. Whether you feel about his characters, they are unmistakably human, partaking both of angel and devil, in a way that literary creations often fail to do. Davies is a keen observer, an accomplished and erudite writer, and possessed of a great affection for the grand but often messy creatures that make up mankind. All of those qualities shine in these short, primarly non-fiction pieces. (In addition to the speeches, there are a few ghost stories written for Gaudy Night celebrations at Massey College where Davies taught.)

The book is broken up into a few sections, poetically named "Garlands and Nosegays" (tributes and memorials), "Giving Advice," Jeux d'Esprit" (mostly ghost stories), "Thoughts About Writing," and "Masks of Satan" (meditations on the nature of evil). The result is a range of insights into a fascinating man. The book is ideal for bedtime reading or casual browsing, since the individual pieces are short; one can dip into the well of words and then drift gracefully off to sleep in the company of a great mind.

While the book stands on its own, it is most interesting to those who are familiar with Davies' literary output (which is highly recommended). The reflections of the man inform the fiction and vice-versa. However, traveling the other way would be a fascinating journey as well. I can hardly imagine anyone who could read the piece entitles "The Conscience of the Writer" without wishing to see the "speaker" put his principles to work. For that matter, I find it likewise difficult to imagine that any fan of literature would not also wish to seek out those whom this writer himself esteems. Indeed, it was after reading the piece entitled "Gleams and Glooms" that I sought out the works of Joseph Sheridan LeFanu, the Irish writer of uncanny stories who died in 1873. I have not regretted that quest. (LeFanu's work is available via Project Gutenberg.)

In short, the book is thought-provoking, charming, amusing and warm. It serves well as either an introduction to Davies, or an accompaniment to his fiction. In either case, it is highly recommended.

Overall Grade: A-

A Mixture of Frailties - Robertson Davies (1958)

"Art's distillation; experience is wine, and art is the brandy we distill from it." So says Sir Benedict Domdaniel in A Mixture of Frailties, and the brandy that Robertson Davies offers us is a fine vintage indeed. Davies' work is hard to review in a conventional fashion, because the construction of it is so loving and so fully human that any discussion of simple plot and setting is completely inadequate. Davies' books are essentially long character studies, and his trilogies or quadrilogies even more so. That does not mean that nothing happens, since character is shaped by action, but rather what is important is not what happens but how it effects the characters - a subtle distinction, perhaps, but a crucial one.

To the plot then. A cantankerous old woman dies, leaving a complicated and onerous will which requires her executors to send a young local woman to train abroad in some form of art. The recipient of his largesse is a young local woman, Monica Gall, a singer of some potential. She is sent from her small home town in Canada to England to study. While there her horizons expand, she falls in love and is fallen in love with.

The book serves as an extended meditation on art, as evidenced by the quotation above, and how art can influence lives for good and for ill. An overarching theme is the power of the dead on the living. The will hovers above the entire story, as a faintly malignant force which helps Monica only as a way of controlling her family. Several characters die over the course of the book, and in one case the death frees Monica and in another binds her. Domdaniel comments on the duty interpretative artists owe to the creators of the art they interpret - for a conductor, as Domdaniel is, or a singer, as Monica is trying to become, that often means composers dead for decades if not longer.

As a result, the web of characters and their relationships are not like reality, but rather capture and heighten the essence of reality - they are a distilled brandy that delivers the characteristic taste of life with concentrated power. The impact is delivered with the loving and, I repeat, utterly human, style that marks all of Davies writing.

To be honest, this is not one of Davies' greatest works. Average Robertson Davies, however, is still very good indeed. If you have never read Davies, you have missed a great treat and A Mixture of Frailties is, if not the pinnacle of his art, still likely to be on of the better things you read this year.

Overall Grade: A-

(As a postscript, let me add a personal note. There are very few writers whose books I will buy based purely on the fact that they wrote it. Not only is Robertson Davies one of those writers, but I will often buy duplicates of them when I find them used, secure in the knowledge that I will find someone unfamiliar with him to whom I can gift it with a beneficient smile.)