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The Caretaker
A lush, disorienting novel, The Caretaker takes no prisoners as it explores the perils of devotion and the potentially lethal charisma of things Following the death of a renowned and eccentric collector―author of Stuff , a seminal philosophical work on the art of accumulation―the fate of the privately endowed museum he cherished falls to a peripatetic stranger who had been his fervent admirer. This peculiar institution (The Society for the Preservation of the Legacy of Dr. Charles Alexander Morgan) is dedicated to the annihilation of peerless antiquities commune happily with the ignored, the discarded, the undervalued and the valueless. What transpires as the caretaker assumes dominion over this reliquary of voiceless objects and over its visitors is told in a manner at once obsessive and matter of fact, and in language both cocooning and expansive. A wry and haunting tale, The Caretaker , like the interplanetary crystal that is one of the museum’s treasures, is rare, glistening, and of a compacted inwardness.
Kafka or Shirley Jackson may come to mind, and The Caretaker may conjure up various genres―parables, ghost stories, locked-room mysteries―but Doon Arbus draws her phosphorescent water from no other writer’s well.
Kafka or Shirley Jackson may come to mind, and The Caretaker may conjure up various genres―parables, ghost stories, locked-room mysteries―but Doon Arbus draws her phosphorescent water from no other writer’s well.
144 pages, Paperback
First published September 15, 2020
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 35 reviews
August 10, 2020
Wasn’t able to connect with the writing or story.
August 6, 2020
This novel works through an accumulation of one exquisite detail after another, rather than through action. For this reason it takes more commitment and concentration than a conventionally plot-driven novel, and its rewards are different, and deep. I don't think there is a better way to have told this story about the new caretaker for a strange collection of stuff, a museum where "peerless antiquities commune happily with the ignored, the discarded, the undervalued and the valueless." Doon Arbus feels in complete control of her unusual story here--her storytelling left me feeling like I was in assured hands. The narrative voice is so matter-of-fact as to be disorienting; as the story progresses this voice begins to gather echoes of dusty dread. The publisher's comparison with Shirley Jackson is apt--this novel feels like an everyday encounter with madness, told so dryly that it all seems completely normal until it's too late.
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December 8, 2020It's hard not to imagine this first novel's themes springing from Arbus's personal experience as the long-time trustee of her mother's estate. Unfortunately for me it consisted of too much aimless tedium delivered in a style akin to a droning lecture from a distant corner of the room. Like many tedious lectures, it grew overtly didactic at times. I had initial doubts based on the cover alone, and now I wish I'd followed my instincts. My faith in New Directions has been shaken.
January 14, 2022
This must be the greatest debut novel by a 75-year-old ever written. I had no idea of Arbus's age; I thought it was the very mature work of a young woman. The prose is controlled, very intelligent, with an excellent rhythm. What there is of a plot is always surprising, and the protagonist is one of the best of the lost losers who populate a large section of contemporary literary shelves (mostly by men). The short length is perfect, as is the novella’s present tense. Although I would have preferred a different ending, I found this novella near perfect.
March 31, 2023
2.75 stars
July 28, 2025
The Caretaker is a strange writing experiment that fails to justify its existence.
Dr Morgan's legacy is encompassed in 'Stuff'; his maximalist, egalitarian philosophy. At the news of Dr Morgan's death our disciple writes to Morgan's widow offering his life in service. As a drifter of many non-particular talents, it takes some convincing to find him a place where he can demonstrate his knowledge and devotion to the Dr's many pieces.
This book follows the now-caretaker over the course of an afternoon, as he leads a tour of the Dr's museum and prepares for bed.
I can see what the novel was trying to do. Every sentence in the book is overwritten, to the extent that I assume it was meant to reflect the collection it describes. A simple event, like climbing the staircase, is drawn out over sentences:
And several more paragraphs of the like till we get to the landing. It's way too much to convey very little at all.
The entire book is like this which made for a tedious reading experience. I read this before bed and the sweet, empty excesses lulled me towards a dreamstate.
Is it any good? Unfortunately I think there is too much style over substance here and the style that is showcased isn't very refined. Arbus needed a better editor, somebody who could have pushed her to solidify these drafts of a story. This has a hint of a ghost story in it which would have been fun to explore. Or hints of an obsessive maniac. Or hints of the class/cultural divide. But nothing ever really comes together. And the writing, as you can see from the snippet above, has no beauty to it: just a lot of words.
The best part of the book is a portion describing one fateful day where a late, busy-body of a visitor smashes a piece of asteroid glass in her carelessness. That entire episode: the setup, the execution, the fallout would have made an excellent short story. As for everything else, it's just stuff with no substance. And if that's the point, it was made in excess.
Dr Morgan's legacy is encompassed in 'Stuff'; his maximalist, egalitarian philosophy. At the news of Dr Morgan's death our disciple writes to Morgan's widow offering his life in service. As a drifter of many non-particular talents, it takes some convincing to find him a place where he can demonstrate his knowledge and devotion to the Dr's many pieces.
This book follows the now-caretaker over the course of an afternoon, as he leads a tour of the Dr's museum and prepares for bed.
I can see what the novel was trying to do. Every sentence in the book is overwritten, to the extent that I assume it was meant to reflect the collection it describes. A simple event, like climbing the staircase, is drawn out over sentences:
The visitor -- feigning unsteadiness as an excuse -- continued his sensory explorations, laying his hand against the cool irregular plaster of an unadorned expanse of wall stroking a bit of fluted molding, brushing the edge of a deep-set windowsill with his fingertips, as if testing for dust. Everything visible in the course of this perfunctory, incidental tour revealed a building architecturally at odds with itself.
And several more paragraphs of the like till we get to the landing. It's way too much to convey very little at all.
The entire book is like this which made for a tedious reading experience. I read this before bed and the sweet, empty excesses lulled me towards a dreamstate.
Is it any good? Unfortunately I think there is too much style over substance here and the style that is showcased isn't very refined. Arbus needed a better editor, somebody who could have pushed her to solidify these drafts of a story. This has a hint of a ghost story in it which would have been fun to explore. Or hints of an obsessive maniac. Or hints of the class/cultural divide. But nothing ever really comes together. And the writing, as you can see from the snippet above, has no beauty to it: just a lot of words.
The best part of the book is a portion describing one fateful day where a late, busy-body of a visitor smashes a piece of asteroid glass in her carelessness. That entire episode: the setup, the execution, the fallout would have made an excellent short story. As for everything else, it's just stuff with no substance. And if that's the point, it was made in excess.
August 9, 2023
another instance where i was seduced by a beautiful cover, but found the words within to fall short of the expectation. this book failed to capture me: it feels like an exercise in imitation of various classic authors, with not much depth to its own story. very nabokovian in both its lush, wordy prose style and the exploration of the life of an eccentric dead man, but lacking both the sharpness and vividness of memory and the heart that is essential to a successful study of such an author. the prose was indeed satisfyingly complex and precise, but it didn't really serve any purpose other than looking pretty. a bit too lofty for its own good, despite all the window dressing i found the emotional connection lacking.
(i usually trust getting a compelling-looking but completely unknown to me book at this one particular bookstore--last time i was there i bought The Scapegoat, which became a favorite-- but my tried and true clairvoyant-leaning method failed me this time)
(i usually trust getting a compelling-looking but completely unknown to me book at this one particular bookstore--last time i was there i bought The Scapegoat, which became a favorite-- but my tried and true clairvoyant-leaning method failed me this time)
January 14, 2021
When a well-known collector named Dr. Charles Morgan dies, the management of his estate--which comprises the museum housing his eclectic, personal collection of objects--is turned over to a caretaker who has long admired Morgan’s artistic philosophy, which Morgan laid out in a tome titled Stuff. Indeed, the museum is filled with an abundance of things that range from priceless to worthless, and the public’s interest is minimal at best. Still, the caretaker treats every object with reverence, and sees his role as vital. His professionalism is a mask, however, for a complicated worldview, rooted in both guilt--he played a role in the destruction of a precious object--and obsession. The years he’s spent as caretaker have blurred the line between caretaker and cared-for, and his intense devotion to Morgan morphs into a kind of physical and spiritual possession. Those who do visit the museum are shocked by what the caretaker asks of them.
With an unnamed narrator, lecture-like descriptions, and a story as quiet as the caretaker’s footsteps in the sacred rooms, The Caretaker is a novel that requires great attention and even greater patience. Yet there are real moments of tension in this slim volume, and the caretaker’s descent into obsession is both mesmerizing and horrifying to witness. Much like the objects in Morgan’s collection, The Caretaker defies easy categorization. Those readers who commit to the journey, to the accumulation of glance and detail, will be well rewarded.
***Review originally written for the City Book Review. I received a free ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.***
With an unnamed narrator, lecture-like descriptions, and a story as quiet as the caretaker’s footsteps in the sacred rooms, The Caretaker is a novel that requires great attention and even greater patience. Yet there are real moments of tension in this slim volume, and the caretaker’s descent into obsession is both mesmerizing and horrifying to witness. Much like the objects in Morgan’s collection, The Caretaker defies easy categorization. Those readers who commit to the journey, to the accumulation of glance and detail, will be well rewarded.
***Review originally written for the City Book Review. I received a free ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.***
November 30, 2020
Weird. It has some wonderful turns of phrase and is unique but was beyond what I was prepared to invest in understanding it. The quality of the writing and the creativity should likely lead to more stars but it just did not work for me.
October 26, 2020
I love these type of “off the wall” novels. “Didn’t you catch the uncut diamond in it’s case winking impudently at the shiny lump of coal across the way.”
September 7, 2023
No matter the circumstances, trying to make a legacy that will live on forever is ultimately a fool's errand. Perhaps your wealth, your fame, the mark you left on the world in whatever way will outlive you by a decade, a century, even a thousand years. But ten thousand? A hundred thousand? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Particularly gifted writers are among the longest holdouts against time's erasure, though even they are eventually forgotten. Unfortunately, based on The Caretaker, the wonderfully named Doon Arbus isn't a member of that distinguished category.
There are some decent lines in The Caretaker, and the premise of an aging steward of a dead man's personal collection is one that works for me—I've always been fascinated by people who essentially sacrifice their lives to the dead by dedicating themselves to some famous figure of the past—but the book's core problem is that Arbus's authorial reach far exceeds her grasp. Great chunks of the book are the titular caretaker making speeches, first to a hiring committee, and then to a particularly ill-used tour group. I get what Arbus was trying to do with these speeches (since the author spells out their intended effect), but, despite Arbus describing the interminable monologues as hypnotic, impassioned, etc. they utterly failed to actually satisfy these descriptors. Despite the narrative telling me that the caretaker managed to divide the tour group against each other, that he mentally dominated them to the point where they made oblations willingly so that they could leave, none of it rang true in the slightest. By book's end Arbus had failed to make the caretaker intriguing, evocative, or even pitiable. Instead he, and thus this short novel, was mostly boring.
Great writing could have elevated this book, of course, or alternatively if the story had gone in a more pulpy direction with the caretaker going crazy in an over-the-top way then at least it might have been entertaining. Instead, the obvious literary ambitions of Arbus, combined with her lack of sufficient skill to realize those ambitions, made The Caretaker a dull slog despite its brevity. I have a rule that any book where boredom is my main takeaway gets a 2/5. Arbus’s good intentions and the rare line of decent prose aren’t enough for me to deviate from that rule.
There are some decent lines in The Caretaker, and the premise of an aging steward of a dead man's personal collection is one that works for me—I've always been fascinated by people who essentially sacrifice their lives to the dead by dedicating themselves to some famous figure of the past—but the book's core problem is that Arbus's authorial reach far exceeds her grasp. Great chunks of the book are the titular caretaker making speeches, first to a hiring committee, and then to a particularly ill-used tour group. I get what Arbus was trying to do with these speeches (since the author spells out their intended effect), but, despite Arbus describing the interminable monologues as hypnotic, impassioned, etc. they utterly failed to actually satisfy these descriptors. Despite the narrative telling me that the caretaker managed to divide the tour group against each other, that he mentally dominated them to the point where they made oblations willingly so that they could leave, none of it rang true in the slightest. By book's end Arbus had failed to make the caretaker intriguing, evocative, or even pitiable. Instead he, and thus this short novel, was mostly boring.
Great writing could have elevated this book, of course, or alternatively if the story had gone in a more pulpy direction with the caretaker going crazy in an over-the-top way then at least it might have been entertaining. Instead, the obvious literary ambitions of Arbus, combined with her lack of sufficient skill to realize those ambitions, made The Caretaker a dull slog despite its brevity. I have a rule that any book where boredom is my main takeaway gets a 2/5. Arbus’s good intentions and the rare line of decent prose aren’t enough for me to deviate from that rule.
August 14, 2020
The Caretaker narrates the tale of a bright, unmoored, unnamed protagonist who, midway through life’s path, discovers Stuff, a book by one Charles Morgan in defense of collecting bric-a-brac. At the time of this discovery, Morgan was still relatively fresh in the grave, and his estate in need of a docent to catalog, display, and explain Morgan’s life’s to visitors. Enter our protagonist. Perpetually single, perpetually unattached and, apparently, unaffected by sexual and emotional drives, the caretaker tirelessly works for 24 years in service to Morgan’s ideas and collection.
The narrator and other characters exude traits from Edward Gorey’s world—eccentricity, grim humor, and Edwardian fussiness—and misanthropy and cruelty from Roald Dahl’s. Unlike Dahl’s, however, the caretaker’s misanthropy seems wholly without motivation, largely because he lacks an inner life. Although the eccentricity and humor kept me reading, as the story drove on, I became more estranged from it because the characters were playing to type, not need or drive.
One hint at an inner life for the caretaker comes late in the book, when he is forging an entry into a bogus journal by “Morgan.” This note sounds personal, and at this point I couldn’t dissociate Doon Arbus from her mother Diane’s legacy:
“Of course, as [biographers] will surely tell you, they only want to get the story right, but evil is the inevitable firstborn child of that sanctimonious monster known as good intentions and I am no one’s story. So let me be instead the rapist they are looking for, the murderer, the plagiarist, the thief, the fraud. Collaborate. Help them to explain me into nonexistence. Help them make me disappear. Save me by condemnation, obfuscation, misdirection. Lie about me. Indict me. Contradict me. Libel me. Defame me. Slander me. Stigmatize me. Save me from the consuming world. Let me be. Let falsehood be my shroud.”
The narrator and other characters exude traits from Edward Gorey’s world—eccentricity, grim humor, and Edwardian fussiness—and misanthropy and cruelty from Roald Dahl’s. Unlike Dahl’s, however, the caretaker’s misanthropy seems wholly without motivation, largely because he lacks an inner life. Although the eccentricity and humor kept me reading, as the story drove on, I became more estranged from it because the characters were playing to type, not need or drive.
One hint at an inner life for the caretaker comes late in the book, when he is forging an entry into a bogus journal by “Morgan.” This note sounds personal, and at this point I couldn’t dissociate Doon Arbus from her mother Diane’s legacy:
“Of course, as [biographers] will surely tell you, they only want to get the story right, but evil is the inevitable firstborn child of that sanctimonious monster known as good intentions and I am no one’s story. So let me be instead the rapist they are looking for, the murderer, the plagiarist, the thief, the fraud. Collaborate. Help them to explain me into nonexistence. Help them make me disappear. Save me by condemnation, obfuscation, misdirection. Lie about me. Indict me. Contradict me. Libel me. Defame me. Slander me. Stigmatize me. Save me from the consuming world. Let me be. Let falsehood be my shroud.”
June 29, 2023
The unnamed protagonist of Arbus’s debut novel was once odd jobs man, now has charge of a small museum devoted to the possessions and life of Charles Morgan, a scientist, philosopher, collector, and the author.
Though the story unfolds slowly, there is a gothic feel to it, a growing uncomfortableness. Appointed before Morgan’s death, the caretaker takes on increasing responsibility after his demise, and with that his behaviour becomes more and more unpredictable; he bellows at visitors, performs rituals, and steals objects for reasons we are not party to.
Arbus uses long sentences often with irrelevant detail that seem that they may be intentional in their insignificance, by representing the vast amount of tat the museum holds. The novel may be better suited though to a sharper and more brief style, 144 pages to 100.
The book certainly has its moments though. Arbus achieves what many of her peers might consider the most difficult things, the menacing atmosphere in the museum, the deteriorating sanity of the caretaker, and a sense of the surreal setting the reader to challenge whether they had just read.
It’s some way from being perfect, but it shows Arbus clearly has talent.
Though the story unfolds slowly, there is a gothic feel to it, a growing uncomfortableness. Appointed before Morgan’s death, the caretaker takes on increasing responsibility after his demise, and with that his behaviour becomes more and more unpredictable; he bellows at visitors, performs rituals, and steals objects for reasons we are not party to.
Arbus uses long sentences often with irrelevant detail that seem that they may be intentional in their insignificance, by representing the vast amount of tat the museum holds. The novel may be better suited though to a sharper and more brief style, 144 pages to 100.
The book certainly has its moments though. Arbus achieves what many of her peers might consider the most difficult things, the menacing atmosphere in the museum, the deteriorating sanity of the caretaker, and a sense of the surreal setting the reader to challenge whether they had just read.
It’s some way from being perfect, but it shows Arbus clearly has talent.
October 3, 2024
Was this all a dream? A fantasy? Hallucination? Perhaps! As you read this short novella, you feel on edge. While Dr. Morgan seems like a character out of “The Most Dangerous Game”, so too does “The Caretaker” leave you with a feeling of distaste. As you continue reading you slowly begin to wonder, did any of the events happen? Are any of the characters and interactions real? Are we in a dream, hallucination, some weird purgatory between the two? Is Dr. Morgan a manifestation of imagination? A real person, who now is no more? In the final pages, all and nothing is revealed to the reader. Which in many ways is pure genius. While we know we are in the mind of madness, what is unclear (at least for this reader) is how deep that goes. It is from all this, that I find entertainment and am motivated to learn how others interpreted this story. As such, I leave it with a five star rating and encourage others to give it a read!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 14, 2023
This is one of those books. The artsy overwrought overnarrated piece of what is meant to be high literature and more often than not comes across too dense to be enjoyable.
Not the worst of its kind, but this baby is overcooked, the texture is all wrong.
The concept is intriguing enough, life perceived as a collection of tangible objects, curated as a museum. But the execution…well, it leaves a lot to be desired.
The trees are fine but the forest in nearly impenetrable. Meaning, the individual sentences are fine, but the procession of them, with nary a line of dialogue or space for air, is tedious. And sleep-inducing.
It’s certainly stylized, it might even be stylish, but as a work of fiction it doesn’t offer much to enjoy. But at least, it has the decency of being short. Definitely an acquired taste of a read.
Not the worst of its kind, but this baby is overcooked, the texture is all wrong.
The concept is intriguing enough, life perceived as a collection of tangible objects, curated as a museum. But the execution…well, it leaves a lot to be desired.
The trees are fine but the forest in nearly impenetrable. Meaning, the individual sentences are fine, but the procession of them, with nary a line of dialogue or space for air, is tedious. And sleep-inducing.
It’s certainly stylized, it might even be stylish, but as a work of fiction it doesn’t offer much to enjoy. But at least, it has the decency of being short. Definitely an acquired taste of a read.
June 14, 2021
There’s a lot to like in this novella: the museum itself as a character is wonderfully drawn, and for the first half, the unnamed caretaker is an interesting sort of fellow-who seems to have had a much more interesting life before the story begins. I would have liked the story about his previous life a lot more.
The story feels like a quiet descent into a dark corner of a basement, or into madness (one or the other).
Yet, the story has so little forward motion, and with a beginning so heavily drawing out a theory or a world-view, I expected that to have some greater payoff than it did. While the caretaker seems untouched by loneliness, he and the story lacked a sense of humanity-as if all objects and individuals are just relics of a moment.
The story feels like a quiet descent into a dark corner of a basement, or into madness (one or the other).
Yet, the story has so little forward motion, and with a beginning so heavily drawing out a theory or a world-view, I expected that to have some greater payoff than it did. While the caretaker seems untouched by loneliness, he and the story lacked a sense of humanity-as if all objects and individuals are just relics of a moment.
April 29, 2024
Absolutely love the setting. Academic, Collecting, Estate preservation, snobby, rich, live in caretaker, amazing. I liked some of the prose and ideas. The beginning read how my mind works in terms of sentence structure and vocabulary but even more heightened so it was definitely brain food. But the book was so short and I didn’t have enough time with all the splendor before it got…well. I don’t enjoy awkward, cringe stories so the holding the tour goers hostage situation was annoying to me. Absolutely hated the ending and skimmed it so I wouldn’t have to ingest that :)
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 5, 2023
Exquisite, wholly consuming small gem of a novel. You are immediately sucked into a narrative swirling with little mysteries, with evocations of past events that allow you to imagine whole worlds of the characters' lives and remain fully immersed in the strangely modern yet antiquated city. Fans of Amina Cain will particularly enjoy this foray (as did I from personal experience) into the strange and sublimely all consuming world of the museum caretaker.
June 14, 2023
After some thought, I think this is about who we are, and how we need each other, and all of our things, to define us during our time here.
I just learned that this is the author's first book, written at age 75! This explains to me anyhow, the deep examination of our stuff and our legacy.
I think everything in this book, the plot, the language, the syntax, reflects the theme of the book, and that's brilliant. It reminded me of Shirley Jackson's and Herman Melville's short stories.
I just learned that this is the author's first book, written at age 75! This explains to me anyhow, the deep examination of our stuff and our legacy.
I think everything in this book, the plot, the language, the syntax, reflects the theme of the book, and that's brilliant. It reminded me of Shirley Jackson's and Herman Melville's short stories.
Want to read
November 22, 2023h/t a twitter retweet (mel) referencing this review
https://www.full-stop.net/2023/11/22/...
I'm very ambivalent - on the good side, it sounds weird, about organizing stuff/people, and interesting, and is very short.
On the bad side, it sounds maybe too weird? But it's short...
Written by Diane Arbus' daughter who was caretaker of her estate. Though she's a writer, this was her debut novel - in her 70s. How can I resist?
https://www.full-stop.net/2023/11/22/...
I'm very ambivalent - on the good side, it sounds weird, about organizing stuff/people, and interesting, and is very short.
On the bad side, it sounds maybe too weird? But it's short...
Written by Diane Arbus' daughter who was caretaker of her estate. Though she's a writer, this was her debut novel - in her 70s. How can I resist?
January 18, 2024
An uncanny and delightful short read, that I think is definitely worth the time. The plot is fairly simple, but Arbus manages to surprise you in unsettling twists that don't stray too far off the main plot. The writing is ornate and often delicate, although it does take some concentration (and perhaps a dictionary by your side) to finish it. The book was inspiring through its writing and thought-provoking through its setting and protagonist. Definitely recommend for an afternoon read.
January 9, 2026
Taken as it is, this is a spellbindingly strange novella of a man warped by the overwhelming presence of loving for and within the confines of someone long dead, told through ridiculously precise and varied language—this is no easy read.
The metatext of this being by the now 70something daughter and head of the notoriously restrictive estate of long dead super famous (apparently) photographer Diane Arbus…that amps this one up.
Fascinating, gripping, and excellently written.
The metatext of this being by the now 70something daughter and head of the notoriously restrictive estate of long dead super famous (apparently) photographer Diane Arbus…that amps this one up.
Fascinating, gripping, and excellently written.
April 7, 2023
good ending worth trudging through the dry exposition
I really liked the ending. Also I love a book that goes off the rails a bit in terms of weirdness and abstract-ness. Somehow managed to be a tiny bit pretentious while also being kinda approachable but I sometimes like that. reader tw: themes of death
I really liked the ending. Also I love a book that goes off the rails a bit in terms of weirdness and abstract-ness. Somehow managed to be a tiny bit pretentious while also being kinda approachable but I sometimes like that. reader tw: themes of death
March 14, 2022
Doon Arbus has a unique and evocative voice. Her prose is spectacular, clear and precise. The physical book is lovely to read. The first half of The Caretaker was compelling but to this reader, at least, the novel became confusing and the ending unsatisfactory.
May 5, 2023
Good. Exhausting tho
Read
July 31, 2023eh. didnt enjoy it all that much
September 25, 2023
The book is well-written and has an interesting concept, but by the end I was tired of the protagonist.
November 30, 2023
This was weird and lovely.
Read
March 9, 2024Exquisit prose. A terrific novel.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 35 reviews