Old Max, the genial giant of Serenity House, north London’s ‘Premier Eventide refuge’, might have been left to die in peace. But his son-in-law Albert, an MP with a special interest in the War Crimes Bill, has other ideas.
He studied at universities of Witwatersrand and Natal. He is an author of poems and novels, also published autobiography, biography of Robert Mugabe, dictator of Zimbabwe, and travel book Moscow! Moscow!, which he got prestige PEN Award. Debut novel A Separate Development (1981), satire on apartheid system, forbidden in South Africa, got the David Higham Prize for Fiction.
This book is an excellent choice if you don't like anyone. The author is critical of: the English, Germans, Disney Land, the aged, the infirm, the middle aged, the young, and pretty much any other group mentioned. That being said the book is entertaining and fast moving.
How can a novelist deal with the Holocaust? In Christopher Hope’s case it is with a mixture of dark satire, of the shocking use of mundane euphemism to cover the horrific, and a sense of the ridiculous. We could at times be in the world of Wooster, with Ralphie Treehouse, Jimbo Mandeville, Binkie Beaumont and the member for Deeping Wallop. Moving among them, however is Max Montfalcon, the incontinent Fowler-quoting arch-English pedant, anti-Semite and former concentration camp pseudo-scientist, and young Jack, American, criminal, violent, scheming to steal the old Nazi’s relics for the black market. We travel with Max through his memories of a Polish death camp, taking anatomical ‘measurements’ of ‘packages,’ offering ‘cures’ to problems soon despatched down a ramp, and now in old age to a care home also keen to see its patients depart, and eventually to Disney World which in his demented state reminds him of the old days. The writing is an uneasy alliance of styles, but one that could work most effectively if handled with great discipline. Unfortunately, there are just too many improbabilities in the plot, the exaggeration stretched a little too far, and too often the dialogue jars – a gardener referring to ‘Madame Europe,’ a gossip columnist to ‘darkest Highgate.’ The narrative is much more solid, even brilliantly realised in those self-contained descriptive passages, whether comic or profoundly disturbing, such as the ‘body music’ ascending from the sleeping residents of Serenity House, the inventive sexual misbehaviour of Max’s son-in-law, or the account of the extermination camp in all its everyday awfulness.
Distastefully strong medicine I didn't much want to swallow. Hope's book starts promisingly with an uncompromising cantankerous curmudgeon who is sitting on a fortune, which he uses to insinuate himself cuckoo-like into his daughter's family nest. Old people, history, humour, social observation... It was all going so well.
The turn towards video nasties and horrors of the Holocaust, while the ever-sootier jibes at humour seemed to be continuing, ended up turning my stomach at points. The tone was all over the place, with a jar full of eyes emblematic of the jokey grimness that I felt tainted the novel. I could see that Hope wasn't necessarily trying to make light of genocide but rather aimed to bring the reader uncomfortably close to concepts of euthanasia through a care home setting. It was thought- and emotion-provoking, so to an extent effective. I just found it hard going.
That humour, the holocaust and historical treatments that reflect on the present can work is shadowed by another Booker Prize novel that made the lists the year before Hope: Martin Amis's 'Times Arrow'. Amis similarly plays with chronology - to a point that it could be said to be gimmicky - but hits the target. In contrast, 'Serenity House' gets boxed in by its wavering tone... It's impossible to laugh, it's hollow chuckling continues while further skeletons issue forth. Not the most horrid book I've read (that's possibly Clive Sinclair's 'Hearts of Gold') - but it comes close.
An engaging, satirical, sometimes humorous novel about old, dependent, not always there, Max Montfalcon, who has moved to a nursing home type of establishment called ‘Serenity House’. Max is haunted by dreams of his war crimes in Germany during World War II. He has been able to escape criminal investigation as Max’s years during the war are undocumented. Max, whilst of German origin, had lived and received his college education in England. He moved back to Germany in 1938. Max’s son in law Albert, an MP with a special interest in War Crimes Bill, decides to investigate Max’s past. Jack, a young American, takes employment at Serenity House. Jack is psychotic and enjoys watching people die. A short novel with interesting characters and good plot momentum.
A darkly comedic novel exploring issues of memory, guilt and past misdeeds.
This book was shortlisted for the 1992 Booker Prize.
Found this book instantly captivating. His writing is clear and bright with characters, drawn instantly and vividly. I think, at it’s heart, this book deals with the human tendency toward expediency, and what we are prepared to do to get what we want. Also, when and how to die, and should that ever be a choice? The euphemistic terminology is fascinating and chilling and the book surprises with character developments that seem almost cartoonish in their boldness.
This is a dark story, but it's also subtly executed in some places. It is a bit contrived in some other places too, but fortunately these are not too pronounced. The point I took from it is that a way to live with evil for a long time and not get broken by it is to forget the usual truths and slip into a kind of fairy-tale world. Oblivion is a valued currency there.
"Przez cały czas mają nadzieję, że powie im się, iż tak naprawdę nie muszą umierać. Dotychczas nikt jeszcze nie opuścił "Pogodnego Domu" żywy. Wszyscy idziemy na rampę."
"Dostateczna ilość cukru sprawia, że możemy przełknąć najbardziej gorzkie lekarstwo."