In August 1960, a number of ill-assorted guests gather at a small hotel on the Danish island of Mon. Among them is Elizabeth Danziger, whose happy memories of growing up in a brilliant and gifted family are overshadowed by darker ones, over which she struggles to achieve control.
I very much enjoyed Elisabeth Russell Taylor's short story collection, Belated, when I received a review copy upon its publication, and have been trying to seek out her work ever since. It has unfortunately proved difficult to find any of her titles, but thankfully, Daunt Books have recently reissued her 1991 novella, Tomorrow.
Shena Mackay writes that Tomorrow is 'a memorable and poignant novel made all the more heartbreaking by the quiet dignity of its central character and the restraint of its telling.' Elaine Feinstein points out that Russell Taylor 'writes brilliantly of emptiness, and the need for love', and Publishers Weekly highlights, rather fantastically, that 'Russell Taylor mingles the elegant with the grotesque, as if seating Flaubert next to William S. Burroughs at dinner.'
Tomorrow takes place in 1960, on the Danish island of Mon, where 'a number of ill-assorted guests have gathered' to spend their summer holidays. The protagonist is Elisabeth Danzinger, 'plain, middle-aged... a woman so utterly predictable in her habits that she has come to the island every summer for the last fifteen years.' Elisabeth grew up holidaying on Mon, where her parents owned a holiday home. The pilgrimage which she makes for seven days each summer gives her the opportunity to remember her tumultuous past. Her itinerary never changes, and she expects that every holiday will be exactly the same as the one before; she revels in, and takes comfort from, this certainty.
At the outset of the novella, which runs to just 136 pages, the current employer of Elisabeth in England writes in a letter: 'Despite living under the same roof as Miss Danzinger for fifteen years, I can tell you little about her. You must have noticed for yourself: she was hardly prepossessing. As for her character, I would describe it as secretive, verging on the smug. I do not know anything about her background, she never mentioned it, but I did observe she spent her afternoons off differently from my English servants. She was a great aficionado of the museums and once a month, I believe, she attended a theatre.' This is the first description which we as readers receive of Elisabeth, who proves to be rather a complex character.
Russell Taylor continues with this level of depth and attention to detail throughout. When Elisabeth arrives at the hotel, Russell Taylor describes the way in which 'She could hear the sea breathing through the twittering of the sparrows that nested in the wisteria. She consulted her watch; she rose, put a cotton kimono over her petticoat, threw a salt-white bath towel over her arm, picked up her sponge bag, opened the bedroom door quietly, looked right and left along the corridor and, satisfied that no one was about, crossed quickly to the bathroom.' Mon has been made a presence in itself, with Russell Taylor's vivid descriptions and sketches of island life building to make it feel as though one is there, alongside Elisabeth at all times. A wonderful focus has been given to sight and colour; for instance, when 'Far our at sea, when ultramarine turned to Prussian, three fishing boats floated motionless', and later, 'Over a barely discernible grey sheet of water was thrown an equally grey shroud of sky, but the shroud was torn in places to reveal streaks of blood red and aquamarine blue.'
The loneliness which Elaine Feinstein picks out in her review has been given such attention, and is written about with emotion and understanding: 'She was filled with an overwhelming sense of loss as she wandered from tree to tree, recognising many, feeling herself refused: she had overstayed her welcome in the world. Life conducted itself independently of her. The scents from the sodden earth filled her with an intolerable weight of memory; not that of individual occasions but of the entire past.'
Tomorrow is a beautifully written novella, filled with depth. Mon comes to life beneath Russell Taylor's pen, as do the characters she constructs. From time to time, the secondary characters do not feel entirely realistic or plausible, but the very depth of Elisabeth's character more than makes up for this. Tomorrow is so well informed, and feels timeless; the issues which it tackles - in part, grief, solitude, and the legacy of the Holocaust - are written about with such gravity and compassion that one cannot help but be moved as the work reaches its conclusion.
A little lukewarm, but adds up to something rather moving by the end of it. Echoes of Anita Brookner? I thought so too. And Alison Moore (who wrote the introduction in the Daunt books edition I got). I'm often a bit wary of the use of the Holocaust as a backdrop for fiction (it lends everything an easy, instant borrowed power), but this was fairly deft. Some moments of magical barminess (e.g. the elderly storyteller), but all told a decent, thoughtful, brisk read.
Born in London in 1930, the English writer Elisabeth Russell Taylor – not to be confused with the other Elizabeth Taylor – wrote six novels and three short-story collections during her lifetime. The most prominent of these is perhaps Tomorrow, first published in 1991 and reissued by Daunt Books in 2018. Fans of Anita Brookner’s work will find much to enjoy here. It’s an exquisitely written story of love and loss – a deeply poignant lament to the sweeping away of a glorious existence, a world of innocence and sanctuary in the run-up to WW2.
Tomorrow revolves around Elisabeth Danzinger, a quiet, solitary forty-year-old woman who works as a housekeeper in London. Every summer, Elisabeth returns to The Tamarisks, a beautifully furnished guest house on the Danish island of Møn, a place that holds many memories of a once-idyllic past, particularly the time she spent there with her cousin and lover, Daniel Eberhardt.
Early in the novel, we learn of Elisabeth’s family background, which is highly significant to the story. During the interwar years, Elisabeth’s father, Jurgen – a man of Aryan stock – taught English at a northern German University. By contrast, her mother, Anna, had a very different upbringing, hailing from a wealthy, cultured German Jewish family in Baden-Baden. Also relevant here are the Danzingers’ close relatives, the Eberhardts, due to the multiple connections between the two families. While Jurgen was teaching English in Germany, Horst Eberhardt – his best friend since their modest shared childhood in Hunsrück – specialised in Italian at the same university. Moreover, Horst’s wife, Charlotte, was in fact Anna’s twin sister – another cultured woman who found herself at risk from the growing prejudices against the Jews.
Thinking back to the Hunsrück the men remembered the extent to which their families were indivisible from their land. But they ignored the fact that German soil was being raked over for an unprecedented crop of anti-semitism; that less accomplished academics than they, jealous of their intellectual prowess and material privilege, revelled in the growing uncertainty that, tainted by association through their wives, the two would someday be checked. (p. 21)
In 1927, the Danzingers and the Eberhardts bought two adjacent holiday homes on Møn, partly as a retreat from the hustle and bustle of university life and partly as an insurance policy in case the situation in Europe escalated (which it subsequently did). The Danzingers’ second home was The Tamarisks, a beautiful house designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens in the classic Elizabethan fashion. Meanwhile, the Eberhardts took charge of the nearby Tuscan Villa, which they tastefully furnished in the Italian style.
The bulk of Russell Taylor’s novella takes place over a week in August 1960 as the forty-year-old Elisabeth Danzinger makes her annual trip to Møn. Being a steadfast creature of habit, Elisabeth inhabits the same ‘yellow’ room at The Tamarisks each year; and from there, she makes the same visits to each familiar place on her itinerary, ruminating on deeply ingrained sorrows as she goes about her pilgrimage.
She was filled with an overwhelming sense of loss as she wondered from tree to tree, recognising many, feeling herself accused: she had overstayed her welcome in the world. Life conducted itself independently of her. The scents from the sodden earth filled with an intolerable weight of memory; not that of individual occasions but of the entire past. (pp. 54–55)
2, I guess? I quite liked the writing style. I quite liked the setting. I quite liked the war based setting. I quite liked the history of the family. I loved hearing about the music room. I did not like the incest.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This was a beautiful book, the writing is graceful and detailed but is never showy or a chore to get through. The sense of place is wonderful, and the story itself is so sad that it is painful. I really recommend this.
HOTEL DU MON Read for the Sevenoaks bookshop group Devastating and beautifully crafted book I could read again. It seemed like a nice on to read before bed but I was wrong, it’s definitely stayed with me. The protagonist isn’t likeable at first but as her story develops I felt great empathy for Elisabeth. The holocaust is not dwelt on but the fate of the baby is devastating. The snobbery and lack of compassion from her English employer is shown in the letter, especially on a second reading. The imagery is beautiful and the author describes the sea perfectly. Although the colonel is a patriarchal character I almost wanted her to take his offer. Boo-boo is ridiculous but adds humour. I read it for the Sevenoaks bookshop online group. It did remind me of Anita Brookner in tone and character but without the optimism. I could also detect shades of Kathleen Mansfield. Elisabeth is reading Jane Austen’s book of love and loss that has a happier ending. Her meagre possessions couldn’t be more pitiful. The final scene is shocking and I could feel E’s pain and feelings of betrayal.
For 15 years Elisabeth has returned to the Danish island she grew up on and experienced her early life and coming of age prior to WWII. As a jew the war was predictably devastating for Elisabeth, her family and friends.
Her annual pilgrimage is a last thread and remnant of her past as she desperately clings on to the loving memory of all that has been lost.
The setting is a bleak and somewhat desolate island, one of the small islands that make up a lot of Denmark. The prose of the setting is extraordinary, evocative to the reader in sight, sound, even smell. You can feel yourself there.
A story of love and loss. it is clearly drawn but not over-stated. The pathos of it will depend on the reader's own experience of loneliness, loss and love. Especially the latter. The ecstasy and misery of love and the choice to make in loving at all. Which obviously we don't have. This is the truly devastating tragedy, you'll either get it or you won't.
I enjoyed reading this book as a short, melancholy summer book although I feel as though this book was almost missing something.
To argue however, I believe an overwhelming feeling of emptiness was meant to be perceived by the reader throughout so perhaps I just misunderstood the general atmosphere intentionally created.
For me I didn’t gain much from this read - I would probably lend the book to a friend as a recommendation but it’s not captured me in the way I had hoped when buying the book.
“Having nothing to lose…is the beginning of opportunity.”
The sense of place in this novel as we are guided by Elizabeth through her annual pilgrimage is incredible. Taylor’s prose borders on being poetic at some points in the most positive of ways; as in it is devoid of the pretentiousness that often makes poetry inaccessible to many.
This novel invites you to breathe the air its characters do, sit at dinner with them and feel the heart wrenching sense of isolation that its protagonist does.
The minus star comes from the ending. I just don’t quite know if that had to happen for us to feel as heartbroken for Elizabeth as we already do.
This heavy but beautifully written novella from 1991 has a gut-punch ending that I am still processing. Elisabeth Russell Taylor's ability to fully place her readers in the book's Danish island setting is extraordinary. Thanks to Slightly Foxed's autumn issue for the recommendation!
Having seen how little this book is known (republished in 2018 for the first time since its original publication in 1991), I was intrigued to see why it had been neglected for so long when the premise sounded so good. Sadly, I think I can see why. Whilst Tomorrow has some beautiful evocations of setting, nothing much happens. We follow the life of Elisabeth Dezinger, a woman whose past tragedies see her recur each year to the Danish island of Mon, where her devastation unfolded. Subsequently, this short novella dedicates itself to recollecting these memories amongst the day-to-day lives that continue to transpire around the island. The trouble is, however, that Elisabeth has no intention of changing the monotony that continues to consume her. Rather she is content simply to flounder in her depression. As a result, the story becomes quite downcast, and whilst Elisabeth's tragedy is one that attracts sympathy, it is persistently clear that nothing will come of the novella other than a meditation on memory. Also, at times Taylor explores the lives of other guests staying at the hotel, but again it is clear they have nothing to add to the story other than embellishment of the setting. In this sense I think Taylor would have been better off sticking with Elisabeth's past and containing it to a short story. Not the lost gem I was hoping for.
I'm only giving this 3 stars because of the ending, which I won't spoil by talking about. Otherwise I would give it a solid 4, I thought it was evocative, beautifully written and well characterised. Not a jolly read, but moving. However at the ending I was ready to throw the book in the pool.....