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The Confessions of Edward Day
Acclaimed author Valerie Martin returns with a dark comedy about love, sex, an actor's ambition, and the perils of playing a role too well.
In this fictional memoir, Valerie Martin brilliantly re-creates the seamy theater world of 1970s New York, when rents were cheap, love was free, and nudity on stage was the latest craze. Edward Day, a talented and ambitious young actor finds his life forever altered during a weekend party on the Jersey Shore, where he seduces the delicious Madeleine Delavergne and is saved from drowning by the mysterious Guy Margate, a man who bears an eerie physical resemblance to Edward. Forever after, Edward is torn between his desire for Madeleine and his indebtedness to Guy, his rival in love and in art, on stage and off.
In this fictional memoir, Valerie Martin brilliantly re-creates the seamy theater world of 1970s New York, when rents were cheap, love was free, and nudity on stage was the latest craze. Edward Day, a talented and ambitious young actor finds his life forever altered during a weekend party on the Jersey Shore, where he seduces the delicious Madeleine Delavergne and is saved from drowning by the mysterious Guy Margate, a man who bears an eerie physical resemblance to Edward. Forever after, Edward is torn between his desire for Madeleine and his indebtedness to Guy, his rival in love and in art, on stage and off.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2009
About the author
Valerie Martin
65 books258 followersValerie Martin is the author of nine novels, including Trespass, Mary Reilly, Italian Fever, and Property, three collections of short fiction, and a biography of St. Francis of Assisi, titled Salvation. She has been awarded a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts and a John Simon Guggenheim Fellowship, as well as the Kafka Prize (for Mary Reilly) and Britain’s Orange Prize (for Property). Martin’s last novel, The Confessions of Edward Day was a New York Times notable book for 2009.
A new novel The Ghost of the Mary Celeste is due from Nan Talese/Random House in January 2014, and a middle-grade book Anton and Cecil, Cats at Sea, co-written with Valerie’s niece Lisa Martin, will be out from Algonquin in October of 2013.
Valerie Martin has taught in writing programs at Mt. Holyoke College, Univ. of Massachusetts, and Sarah Lawrence College, among others. She resides in Dutchess County, New York and is currently Professor of English at Mt. Holyoke College.
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July 2, 2011
When “The Confessions of Edward Day” first came out, a very famous novelist reviewed it (quite favorably) and said that it was a “self-contained gem” because it “never purport[ed] to be more than it seems to be (a tale of ambitious young actors struggling to get ahead in the New York theater scene in the 1970s).” Although I respect the author and her favorable review, this novel is much, much more than a book about struggling actors. Yes, it utilizes the theater and its players to effectively explore its themes, and in doing so says quite a bit about the world of people who pretend to be other people for a living, but at its core, this is a book about the psychology of the individual and the processes at work that shape us into the human beings we become.
In the very first sentence of this novel, Valerie Martin has a character make a statement about Freudian psychology. Is it just a coincidence that the novel starts off with a statement about Freudian psychology? Even Freud would tell you "there are no accidents" in life, and Valerie Martin knows this only too well. Her main character, Edward Day, however, is about to find out with unique clarity that there are no accidents in life – after he has a life-altering and self-defining…er…accident.
When Edward Day falls off a pier at midnight into the ocean, he is rescued by the enigmatic Guy Margate, a fellow actor and rival for the attentions of Edward Day’s love interest, Madeleine. Guy has some unusual distinguishing characteristics, not the least of which being that he looks almost identical to Edward Day. He may be a bit darker in his features, a bit more raw and wild-looking, but the two could be mistaken for each other, their resemblance being so uncanny. From that day on, the two become inextricably linked to each other – Edward, beholden to Guy for saving his life, resentful that he needs to feel gratitude toward a man he does not like – and Guy, now Edward’s savior, a man who feels he can impose upon the favors and goodwill of Edward, having saved him from his doom. Guy, in fact, becomes a shadowy conscience and judge who turns up at some of the most significant times in Edward’s life.
Now, let’s get to the backstory, as all good actors do. Edward was the favorite son of a sometimes-distant mother. Late in her life, she left Edward’s father, became involved in a lesbian relationship, and…oh yeah…killed herself. The night she killed herself, she called Edward’s number several times, never reaching him, because he was busy having his first sexual experience with a woman (Yup…Calling Mr Freud, please pick up, Mr. Freud…). No one knows his mother tried to call him, and he never tells his father or brothers about it. He merely represses the experience, pushes it down and proceeds to look for approval in every woman he meets from that point on. When he falls for a beautiful acting student named Madeleine only to find that she harbors feelings for Guy Margate, we are suddenly smack dab in the middle of a psychoanalyst’s wet dream. Can you say Oedipal complex? Displacement? Transference? As the story progresses, the reader is called upon to witness hook-ups and betrayals, tragedies and lies, successes and failures. There are important moments when characters in the story are called upon to make sacrifices, face difficult truths, accept or negate their own actions. Edward likes to portray himself to the reader as the hero of his own story, a man beset by the infuriating intrusions of Guy Margate, a man we are meant to think of as a threat and a sinister force in Edward’s life. Guy’s attentions to Madeline are seen by Edward as deliberate falsehoods meant only to vex his rival (the term Edward uses to define his and Guy’s unique relationship throughout the book). When Madeline goes through some serious life issues, however, we discover that Guy is the one who decides to help her through it, even though Edward believes he is the only one Madeleine truly loves. Edward, often the catalyst for these issues, continually removes himself from the situations, rationalizes that things turn out the way they are meant to turn out, and goes about his business, pursuing his ambitions and his life in the theater. Guy, on the other hand, stays and does the dirty work of real life, sacrificing his incipient career, and attempting to appeal to Edward through the use of guilt and entitlement for having saved his life all those years ago. Tactics that do not, of course, work on the increasingly narcissistic Edward. All three of our main characters are actors, and all three bring different strengths, failings, and emotions to the stage and to their own lives. To take that notion just a step further, due to the book’s subject matter, all three could also be considered to represent the three main sections of Freud’s triumvirate of psychology: the id, the ego, and the superego.
Is Guy an actual human being or Edward’s superego? Is Edward an actual complete human being or just the desires and conflicts of his own id? Is Madeline a love interest or Edward’s mother, Edward’s ego, Edward’s feminine? Why does every important woman in the book have a name that starts with “M?” Could it stand for “Mother?” Why does sexual conflict, infidelity, lack of deferment of gratification, and confusing gender issues revolve around the characters and their worlds?
In the world of the theater, Guy’s two defining roles on the stage involve, first, an all-naked performance in a play that is never named, which he gives to rave reviews and which puts him on the fast track to stage success - and then later in the book, a disastrous turn in another unnamed Broadway play that is beset by accidents (and remember, in this story, a decidedly Freudian story, there are no accidents…), that effectively ends his career on the stage. Later, Madeleine is defined by two roles – Desdemona in “Othello” and Elena in Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya” (the former, a faithful, loving wife who is wronged by her jealous husband; the latter, a “lazy, selfish beautiful siren”). So, which is she, we may ask ourselves? When she is with Guy, they seem to have a loving marriage and a deep bond, and yet whenever Edward intermittently shows up from the road, full of his own needs and concerns, Madeleine always wraps her arms around him and opens herself to his sexual advances. We learn things about her marriage that could paint her as a long-suffering saint – or alternately, a lying little minx, and our question can only inevitably be determined by us. Edward, as an actor, is likewise defined by a series of important roles. The first is Chance Wayne, the blonde gigolo seducing an older woman in Tennessee Williams’ “Sweet Bird of Youth.” As it turns out, the woman he longs to seduce on the stage he also longs to seduce in real life. She is a dazzling and protective mother figure and, although she significantly helps him in his career and in his depth of emotional range, he is never able to get her into bed. We later witness a turn in Pinter’s “The Birthday Party” (a play which involves, threats, seductions and a nervous breakdown, with a sweet love song startlingly wedged in the middle), which Martin juxtaposes with an actual party in the book that mirrors these themes. Soon after, we find Edward successfully playing the role of the contemptuous Jean in “Miss Julie,” a Strindberg play in which a sadistic valet takes total control of his weak-willed mistress. (Are we seeing a pattern here?)
Much is made of the Stanislavski process of method acting. Some of the greatest acting teachers in theater history are mentioned in the book as being the teachers for our main characters. Mining the sense memories we carry with us is a dangerous business. Our author seems to be asking whether it is harsh and deceptive to use a true tragedy in one’s life as a tool in a performance or merely cathartic and a way to offer significance not otherwise found. We are told that Guy never uses sense memory – all of his performances are the result of talented mimicry. He does not choose to lose himself, his true self, in a performance. Madeleine, we are told, is too emotionally involved in her characters, her fragile nature often conflicted and made sick by them. Edward, on the other hand, begins as an inauthentic actor and later learns to mine the world of his own history for truth in his performance, but to what end? Does he use his mother’s death as an acting strategy? Is his own guilt bound up in the way he takes advantage of his past? Martin’s casual language and matter-of fact writing style betray a depth that stays with the reader long after the story is over. She utilizes the quintessential age-old analogy, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players” to great effect. Martin, however, seems to believe that the parts we choose to play define us, and the themes we choose to explore are not accidental. Obviously, the plays and roles chosen in this novel mirror the lives of the characters we meet. The depths of the emotions they need to fathom in order to bring authenticity to their roles are sometimes so fraught with their own histories and insecurities, that the parts they must play nearly overtake them, and in the end, threaten to ruin them altogether.
In the very first sentence of this novel, Valerie Martin has a character make a statement about Freudian psychology. Is it just a coincidence that the novel starts off with a statement about Freudian psychology? Even Freud would tell you "there are no accidents" in life, and Valerie Martin knows this only too well. Her main character, Edward Day, however, is about to find out with unique clarity that there are no accidents in life – after he has a life-altering and self-defining…er…accident.
When Edward Day falls off a pier at midnight into the ocean, he is rescued by the enigmatic Guy Margate, a fellow actor and rival for the attentions of Edward Day’s love interest, Madeleine. Guy has some unusual distinguishing characteristics, not the least of which being that he looks almost identical to Edward Day. He may be a bit darker in his features, a bit more raw and wild-looking, but the two could be mistaken for each other, their resemblance being so uncanny. From that day on, the two become inextricably linked to each other – Edward, beholden to Guy for saving his life, resentful that he needs to feel gratitude toward a man he does not like – and Guy, now Edward’s savior, a man who feels he can impose upon the favors and goodwill of Edward, having saved him from his doom. Guy, in fact, becomes a shadowy conscience and judge who turns up at some of the most significant times in Edward’s life.
Now, let’s get to the backstory, as all good actors do. Edward was the favorite son of a sometimes-distant mother. Late in her life, she left Edward’s father, became involved in a lesbian relationship, and…oh yeah…killed herself. The night she killed herself, she called Edward’s number several times, never reaching him, because he was busy having his first sexual experience with a woman (Yup…Calling Mr Freud, please pick up, Mr. Freud…). No one knows his mother tried to call him, and he never tells his father or brothers about it. He merely represses the experience, pushes it down and proceeds to look for approval in every woman he meets from that point on. When he falls for a beautiful acting student named Madeleine only to find that she harbors feelings for Guy Margate, we are suddenly smack dab in the middle of a psychoanalyst’s wet dream. Can you say Oedipal complex? Displacement? Transference? As the story progresses, the reader is called upon to witness hook-ups and betrayals, tragedies and lies, successes and failures. There are important moments when characters in the story are called upon to make sacrifices, face difficult truths, accept or negate their own actions. Edward likes to portray himself to the reader as the hero of his own story, a man beset by the infuriating intrusions of Guy Margate, a man we are meant to think of as a threat and a sinister force in Edward’s life. Guy’s attentions to Madeline are seen by Edward as deliberate falsehoods meant only to vex his rival (the term Edward uses to define his and Guy’s unique relationship throughout the book). When Madeline goes through some serious life issues, however, we discover that Guy is the one who decides to help her through it, even though Edward believes he is the only one Madeleine truly loves. Edward, often the catalyst for these issues, continually removes himself from the situations, rationalizes that things turn out the way they are meant to turn out, and goes about his business, pursuing his ambitions and his life in the theater. Guy, on the other hand, stays and does the dirty work of real life, sacrificing his incipient career, and attempting to appeal to Edward through the use of guilt and entitlement for having saved his life all those years ago. Tactics that do not, of course, work on the increasingly narcissistic Edward. All three of our main characters are actors, and all three bring different strengths, failings, and emotions to the stage and to their own lives. To take that notion just a step further, due to the book’s subject matter, all three could also be considered to represent the three main sections of Freud’s triumvirate of psychology: the id, the ego, and the superego.
Is Guy an actual human being or Edward’s superego? Is Edward an actual complete human being or just the desires and conflicts of his own id? Is Madeline a love interest or Edward’s mother, Edward’s ego, Edward’s feminine? Why does every important woman in the book have a name that starts with “M?” Could it stand for “Mother?” Why does sexual conflict, infidelity, lack of deferment of gratification, and confusing gender issues revolve around the characters and their worlds?
In the world of the theater, Guy’s two defining roles on the stage involve, first, an all-naked performance in a play that is never named, which he gives to rave reviews and which puts him on the fast track to stage success - and then later in the book, a disastrous turn in another unnamed Broadway play that is beset by accidents (and remember, in this story, a decidedly Freudian story, there are no accidents…), that effectively ends his career on the stage. Later, Madeleine is defined by two roles – Desdemona in “Othello” and Elena in Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya” (the former, a faithful, loving wife who is wronged by her jealous husband; the latter, a “lazy, selfish beautiful siren”). So, which is she, we may ask ourselves? When she is with Guy, they seem to have a loving marriage and a deep bond, and yet whenever Edward intermittently shows up from the road, full of his own needs and concerns, Madeleine always wraps her arms around him and opens herself to his sexual advances. We learn things about her marriage that could paint her as a long-suffering saint – or alternately, a lying little minx, and our question can only inevitably be determined by us. Edward, as an actor, is likewise defined by a series of important roles. The first is Chance Wayne, the blonde gigolo seducing an older woman in Tennessee Williams’ “Sweet Bird of Youth.” As it turns out, the woman he longs to seduce on the stage he also longs to seduce in real life. She is a dazzling and protective mother figure and, although she significantly helps him in his career and in his depth of emotional range, he is never able to get her into bed. We later witness a turn in Pinter’s “The Birthday Party” (a play which involves, threats, seductions and a nervous breakdown, with a sweet love song startlingly wedged in the middle), which Martin juxtaposes with an actual party in the book that mirrors these themes. Soon after, we find Edward successfully playing the role of the contemptuous Jean in “Miss Julie,” a Strindberg play in which a sadistic valet takes total control of his weak-willed mistress. (Are we seeing a pattern here?)
Much is made of the Stanislavski process of method acting. Some of the greatest acting teachers in theater history are mentioned in the book as being the teachers for our main characters. Mining the sense memories we carry with us is a dangerous business. Our author seems to be asking whether it is harsh and deceptive to use a true tragedy in one’s life as a tool in a performance or merely cathartic and a way to offer significance not otherwise found. We are told that Guy never uses sense memory – all of his performances are the result of talented mimicry. He does not choose to lose himself, his true self, in a performance. Madeleine, we are told, is too emotionally involved in her characters, her fragile nature often conflicted and made sick by them. Edward, on the other hand, begins as an inauthentic actor and later learns to mine the world of his own history for truth in his performance, but to what end? Does he use his mother’s death as an acting strategy? Is his own guilt bound up in the way he takes advantage of his past? Martin’s casual language and matter-of fact writing style betray a depth that stays with the reader long after the story is over. She utilizes the quintessential age-old analogy, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players” to great effect. Martin, however, seems to believe that the parts we choose to play define us, and the themes we choose to explore are not accidental. Obviously, the plays and roles chosen in this novel mirror the lives of the characters we meet. The depths of the emotions they need to fathom in order to bring authenticity to their roles are sometimes so fraught with their own histories and insecurities, that the parts they must play nearly overtake them, and in the end, threaten to ruin them altogether.
August 27, 2009
Valerie Martin has an unequaled ability to capture the essence of a character and build a page-turning story around it. I was sucked into Edward Day's life as if by an industrial vacuum cleaner, fascinated by his persona and the events that shaped it.
As the story progresses, a peculiar tension builds around Edward Day. It is a struggle not between good and evil or anything nearly as mundane as good guys versus bad guys, but rather a growing realization that he may be the villain of his own memoir. I don't believe I have experienced a character such as that since reading Crime and Punishment.
This book epitomizes the writer's dictum to "don't tell--show", which serves the theme perfectly. Edward tells his own story, commenting on the actions, appearances, and attitudes of every other character in the piece in ways that ultimately reveal more about him than about them. It's a powerful technique that Martin has clearly mastered.
The business of acting in live theater makes a wonderful background for the story. Edward Day is a consummate actor, which also happens to make him the perfect protagonist for this excellent dark novel.
As the story progresses, a peculiar tension builds around Edward Day. It is a struggle not between good and evil or anything nearly as mundane as good guys versus bad guys, but rather a growing realization that he may be the villain of his own memoir. I don't believe I have experienced a character such as that since reading Crime and Punishment.
This book epitomizes the writer's dictum to "don't tell--show", which serves the theme perfectly. Edward tells his own story, commenting on the actions, appearances, and attitudes of every other character in the piece in ways that ultimately reveal more about him than about them. It's a powerful technique that Martin has clearly mastered.
The business of acting in live theater makes a wonderful background for the story. Edward Day is a consummate actor, which also happens to make him the perfect protagonist for this excellent dark novel.
January 3, 2010
What a piece of trash. As an actor, I was excited by the idea of this book, hoping to glean some insight into what it was like to be a professional actor in NY in the '70s. But while that's how this book is marketed, instead it has one of the most ridiculous, soap opera-ish plots I've ever read. Apparently Ms. Martin thinks that dropping names like Pinter, Meisner and Adler somehow legitimizes the book as being about acting. But the lead character is much more interested in where to stick his member next rather than how to prepare for a role. I sincerely wish I could have the time back that I spent reading this drivel.
May 25, 2013
The 'confessions' are a pseudo-memoir, by an author exploring acting from from the outside. All the more impressive, then, that actors and critics have treated the book with respect. It has been widely reviewed, attracting some eminent commentary, particularly in relation to its setting – 1970s Broadway – and insights into the acting profession.
As usual, Valerie Martin walks around her topic to observe all sides, and isn’t scared of big themes. This time it is life and death, the double, the Self and Other, the limits of what we can know. Above all, though, it studies the impact of a persecutor in your life.
Edward was one of four boys to a mother who had longed for a daughter. He was the most girlish of them and closest to his mother, but she abandoned her family for a lesbian relationship. Edward’s first night of sex with a girl coincides with his mother’s suicide. It leaves him with a wish to be other than he is. He declares that his acting isn't about narcissism or even self-expression, but rather the chance to be someone else.
A talented fellow actor later tells him: "I get myself from what I see you getting about me." But that is different to seeing oneself only through a persona - through an outer shell seen by others, like politicians crafting themselves around their images. That "is not, perhaps, a bad way to start", Edward tells us, but you truly find yourself as an actor when you discover and draw out your inner self, and subordinate it to your purposes.
Such subtlety distinguishes Edward from fellow actor Guy Margate. Guy sees himself only through a persona, even in moments of crisis. He is unaware, for example, of how his jealous gaze at Edward could be applied by him on stage. Guy has a gift for mimicry, but mimics, we're told, are rarely good actors.
The story turns around Guy and Edward. They are both aspiring actors, very similar looking, chasing the same parts. In one scene they actually stare at each other’s reflections in the mirror. They pursue the same woman, fellow thespian Madeleine. This 'double' stuff is so blatant that we are being invited, I think, to look beyond it.
Early on in the novel the reader first encounters Guy in the act of saving Edward’s life. One night Edward swims out from a beach near the holiday house where he has been partying with other young actors (and seducing one of them), but gets caught a riptide. Guy swims out and pulls him free, but from then on Guy is toxic for Edward. Like Edward’s mother, Guy follows the gift of life with small but ongoing doses of death.
Guy sets Edward up, puts him in a bad light whereever possible, overpowers him in any social situation he can. He finds and plays on weak spots, sends varied signals of menace. He tries to disorient Edward through moments of phony friendship.
The biggest problem for Edward is Guy’s parasitic hunger for his life. His hard-won bits of money will do for a start. Then there is the issue of Edward’s latent theatrical talent. Perhaps Guy senses that whatever his own short terms successes he is hollow as an actor and person. The "dead gazing upon the living", he fastens on Edward: he will never just drift away.
Perhaps it amused a female writer to study rivalry between men.
Above all, it is a fight over the fellow young thespian Madeleine. Within this triangle another theme of the book plays out: the limits of what we can know of the world and one another. We see only through Edward’s eyes, so a lot of their interplay is hidden. But Guy's cold commentary on Edward shows that our enemies have insights about us, knowledge we ourselves lack or won’t look at.
In these memoirs Edward does not give Madeleine’s personality the same attention as Guy's; indeed, once he has her for himself his interest in her declines, until Guy makes another move on her, and the story darkens.
Madeleine's vagueness contrasts with the dazzling power of Marlene Webern, as she blazes briefly through Edward’s career. An older, accomplished performer, Marlene sees deeply into Edward and shocks him to life as an actor. He lusts for her yet she is really the Good Mother he's missed, and whom Guy will never have.
At one curious moment early in the book, when Guy and Edward walk away from the nocturnal beach rescue, Guy insists that they already know each other. Perhaps so: his animosity to Edward is already fully formed. In that case Edward as autobiographer has left many blanks, and has let this anecdote slip through a calculatedly false account of their relations. Some reviewers have taken this approach and one interpreted Edward himself as a monster. But I think it would be more in keeping with the story to understand Guy’s assertion as the first of many ploys to knock his enemy off balance. In that case his hatred of Edward had ignited only hours before, during a the party in which Edward was busy with Madeleine, still blessedly unaware of Guy’s existence.
As usual, Valerie Martin walks around her topic to observe all sides, and isn’t scared of big themes. This time it is life and death, the double, the Self and Other, the limits of what we can know. Above all, though, it studies the impact of a persecutor in your life.
Edward was one of four boys to a mother who had longed for a daughter. He was the most girlish of them and closest to his mother, but she abandoned her family for a lesbian relationship. Edward’s first night of sex with a girl coincides with his mother’s suicide. It leaves him with a wish to be other than he is. He declares that his acting isn't about narcissism or even self-expression, but rather the chance to be someone else.
A talented fellow actor later tells him: "I get myself from what I see you getting about me." But that is different to seeing oneself only through a persona - through an outer shell seen by others, like politicians crafting themselves around their images. That "is not, perhaps, a bad way to start", Edward tells us, but you truly find yourself as an actor when you discover and draw out your inner self, and subordinate it to your purposes.
Such subtlety distinguishes Edward from fellow actor Guy Margate. Guy sees himself only through a persona, even in moments of crisis. He is unaware, for example, of how his jealous gaze at Edward could be applied by him on stage. Guy has a gift for mimicry, but mimics, we're told, are rarely good actors.
The story turns around Guy and Edward. They are both aspiring actors, very similar looking, chasing the same parts. In one scene they actually stare at each other’s reflections in the mirror. They pursue the same woman, fellow thespian Madeleine. This 'double' stuff is so blatant that we are being invited, I think, to look beyond it.
Early on in the novel the reader first encounters Guy in the act of saving Edward’s life. One night Edward swims out from a beach near the holiday house where he has been partying with other young actors (and seducing one of them), but gets caught a riptide. Guy swims out and pulls him free, but from then on Guy is toxic for Edward. Like Edward’s mother, Guy follows the gift of life with small but ongoing doses of death.
Guy sets Edward up, puts him in a bad light whereever possible, overpowers him in any social situation he can. He finds and plays on weak spots, sends varied signals of menace. He tries to disorient Edward through moments of phony friendship.
The biggest problem for Edward is Guy’s parasitic hunger for his life. His hard-won bits of money will do for a start. Then there is the issue of Edward’s latent theatrical talent. Perhaps Guy senses that whatever his own short terms successes he is hollow as an actor and person. The "dead gazing upon the living", he fastens on Edward: he will never just drift away.
Perhaps it amused a female writer to study rivalry between men.
Above all, it is a fight over the fellow young thespian Madeleine. Within this triangle another theme of the book plays out: the limits of what we can know of the world and one another. We see only through Edward’s eyes, so a lot of their interplay is hidden. But Guy's cold commentary on Edward shows that our enemies have insights about us, knowledge we ourselves lack or won’t look at.
In these memoirs Edward does not give Madeleine’s personality the same attention as Guy's; indeed, once he has her for himself his interest in her declines, until Guy makes another move on her, and the story darkens.
Madeleine's vagueness contrasts with the dazzling power of Marlene Webern, as she blazes briefly through Edward’s career. An older, accomplished performer, Marlene sees deeply into Edward and shocks him to life as an actor. He lusts for her yet she is really the Good Mother he's missed, and whom Guy will never have.
At one curious moment early in the book, when Guy and Edward walk away from the nocturnal beach rescue, Guy insists that they already know each other. Perhaps so: his animosity to Edward is already fully formed. In that case Edward as autobiographer has left many blanks, and has let this anecdote slip through a calculatedly false account of their relations. Some reviewers have taken this approach and one interpreted Edward himself as a monster. But I think it would be more in keeping with the story to understand Guy’s assertion as the first of many ploys to knock his enemy off balance. In that case his hatred of Edward had ignited only hours before, during a the party in which Edward was busy with Madeleine, still blessedly unaware of Guy’s existence.
October 16, 2009
What a wonderful treat this book is! I tend to forget Valerie Martin. On the one hand, this means that I end up missing her novels. On the other hand, I get to rediscover her often which sort of fulfills my fantasies of re-reading various books & authors for the first time all over again.
I spent most of my twenties & thirties in theaters. First as an actor & later as a director with my own production company. Acting was fun because it provided me with an opportunity to explore sides of myself that I tended to avoid & to do things I'd probably never ever do in my real life. Directing, however, was my ultimate love in the theater. Where else do you get to interrogate text prior to making it get up and walk around?
The Confessions of Edward Day is the memoir of Edward Day, an actor reminiscing about his salad days in the New York theater world of the 1970s where everyone was a student of Stella Adler or Sanford Meisner & living hand-to-mouth from audition to audition waiting for that big break. Edward Day is the definitive actor, a narcissist whose self-awareness is so thin that he can't see himself. Edward stands so far outside himself in observation of his emotions as material for his acting that he is essentially a non-person. Scarily, he is in many ways the most complete person in this tale of doubling & its consequences.
Ms. Martin is asking some big questions here: What is owed to someone who saves your life? What does it mean to be both an actor & a person? If you have a doppleganger, which one of you is real?
Ms. Martin's writing is, as always, superb. She manages to create characters who suck you into their worlds. She writes with a delicate menace that is reminiscent of Patricia Highsmith, but less bound to the thriller genre. This is a wonderfully written, compelling story that ended far too soon.
I spent most of my twenties & thirties in theaters. First as an actor & later as a director with my own production company. Acting was fun because it provided me with an opportunity to explore sides of myself that I tended to avoid & to do things I'd probably never ever do in my real life. Directing, however, was my ultimate love in the theater. Where else do you get to interrogate text prior to making it get up and walk around?
The Confessions of Edward Day is the memoir of Edward Day, an actor reminiscing about his salad days in the New York theater world of the 1970s where everyone was a student of Stella Adler or Sanford Meisner & living hand-to-mouth from audition to audition waiting for that big break. Edward Day is the definitive actor, a narcissist whose self-awareness is so thin that he can't see himself. Edward stands so far outside himself in observation of his emotions as material for his acting that he is essentially a non-person. Scarily, he is in many ways the most complete person in this tale of doubling & its consequences.
Ms. Martin is asking some big questions here: What is owed to someone who saves your life? What does it mean to be both an actor & a person? If you have a doppleganger, which one of you is real?
Ms. Martin's writing is, as always, superb. She manages to create characters who suck you into their worlds. She writes with a delicate menace that is reminiscent of Patricia Highsmith, but less bound to the thriller genre. This is a wonderfully written, compelling story that ended far too soon.
December 28, 2009
I found myself somewhat perplexed, though highly entertained, by this book. It's the story of an actor in the 1970s, his career on the stage and his friendships within the theater community, as well as a deeply antagonistic relationship with a disturbed doppelganger who saves him from drowning early on. While the tension of the relationship between Edward and Guy, a kind of manifestation of his baser self, is what drives the plot of the novel, much has been made among reviewers of the way in which Martin creates effectively the world of 1970s NYC theater. Yes, she does that, but I was hoping for a little more discussion of technique, rehearsal, the actual feeling of being onstage, than is here. Martin is more interested in the ways in which being an actor both causes and results from a deep, unrelenting narcissism, and how that manifests itself in perpetually self-obsessed behavior in one's personal life. There's nothing wrong with this as a project, but I suppose I was somewhat disappointed not to get more time with Edward on the stage than in a bar.
Regardless, the plot of this subtle, taught novel is compelling until the final page, and it's a highly enjoyable, thought-provoking read.
Regardless, the plot of this subtle, taught novel is compelling until the final page, and it's a highly enjoyable, thought-provoking read.
October 2, 2009
I am almost certain that I read a bad (maybe in both senses of the term) review of this book that made me hold off on buying it for a week or so after I read (and loved) the sample chapter on my kindle. I can't find that review anymore, and I'm glad, because I loved this book (except for the ending, which I didn't quite believe; or rather, I believed the very last part, but not the path the main character takes after the denouement).
Set mostly in 1970s New York, it both evokes what it was like to be young and starting out in one's career in those days, but also what it is like to be a struggling actor. The mix of hope and hate and jealousy and success and failure is very New York, but also very human.
I loved the character of Edward Day even as he made it clear that he wasn't--all that loveable, or at least not that bad. The woman in the love-hate triangle that is at the center of this book has a key line: "I'm not as bad as you think." That line could apply to all three main characters in the novel.
Set mostly in 1970s New York, it both evokes what it was like to be young and starting out in one's career in those days, but also what it is like to be a struggling actor. The mix of hope and hate and jealousy and success and failure is very New York, but also very human.
I loved the character of Edward Day even as he made it clear that he wasn't--all that loveable, or at least not that bad. The woman in the love-hate triangle that is at the center of this book has a key line: "I'm not as bad as you think." That line could apply to all three main characters in the novel.
March 17, 2018
A good beginning, terribly disappointing ending. Also:
- broke actors didn't own answering machines in 1974
- most vehicles didn't have back up beeps then - they only started getting phased in in 1970
- messing around with sweet cocktails and calling them martinis didn't happen until the 1990s
- people were not making mix tapes in 1974
- Tofu Pups weren't introduced until 1985
- while Polaroid begin selling the kind of camera that spits out the picture in fall 1973, the idea that a broke actor would have one within the year seems unlikely
- having studied there in the 1990s, Circle in the Square was referred to without an article
- while he might have ogled women, Sanford Meisner was gay.
Valerie Martin is old enough to know firsthand about these anachronisms.
- broke actors didn't own answering machines in 1974
- most vehicles didn't have back up beeps then - they only started getting phased in in 1970
- messing around with sweet cocktails and calling them martinis didn't happen until the 1990s
- people were not making mix tapes in 1974
- Tofu Pups weren't introduced until 1985
- while Polaroid begin selling the kind of camera that spits out the picture in fall 1973, the idea that a broke actor would have one within the year seems unlikely
- having studied there in the 1990s, Circle in the Square was referred to without an article
- while he might have ogled women, Sanford Meisner was gay.
Valerie Martin is old enough to know firsthand about these anachronisms.
October 3, 2009
Early in this fictional memoir a young aspiring actor is saved from drowning by another who closely resembles him, setting in motion a life long complicated relationship. The "memoir" develops as their lives diverge and they meet with differing successes in love as well as on the stage. Martin sets the novel in the New York theater scene of the 70's and 80's for plot convenience, illustrating the power play through her protagonist and his savior/nemesis. It is constructed like a play, with 3 acts and an important coda, and is as much a character study of four representatives of type as a depiction of theater life.
November 10, 2009
Valerie Martin is a wonderful writer. Her novels are all different from each other; she never repeats herself. What does get repeated is her ability to create a very flawed narrator who sucks you into his life -- which can feel quite chillingly uncomfortable -- and this novel is no exception. She can also be wickedly funny at times and that's the case in this novel too. (Near the end of the book, the 'voice' felt a bit like a Paul Auster narrator to me, perhaps because of a sort of doubling theme that exists in the novel.)
Read
July 16, 2010I loved this book. I found it compelling and odd. Edward Day is an actor, whose life is saved by another actor who strongly resembles Edward Day. This lifesaving doppelgänger becomes a menacing presence in Edward Day's life. The two men share love and career interests and their careers and love love-lives are negatives of each other. The book is a bit of a psychological thriller. I was never quite sure about what was real as I read the book and what I was supposed to have been believing.
December 17, 2009
Some guy rescues the drowning Edward off the midnight coast of Jersey, and the two of them wind up tangled up in a lifetime's worth of debt and resentment and jealousy and blue. Madeleine is the object of everyone's affections and either an aggravating cause of Edward's antipathy toward Guy the lifeguard, or Edward's chosen weapon in their lifelong battle.
Actors are awful people. But then, so are mathematicians.
Actors are awful people. But then, so are mathematicians.
January 23, 2010
Disappointing, given what I recall to be a bit of a rave in the NYRB. The acting life in free-swinging, mid-70's NYC might seem to be rife. The self-obsessed narrator sure thinks so. But the decision/need to goose the plot with suicide (2!), a bloody failed birth, near-death from drowning, amnesia (!), a gay coming out (duh!), acting epiphanies and more melodramas tips us (ok, me) well over the top. The ending -- "you changed my life" -- is just too, too much. I suppose that's the point.
September 13, 2009
Having really liked Martin's Property (imho rivalled Kate Chopin), I was very disappointed in this novel. I expected more; this is a beach read filled with anachronisms.
March 13, 2025
I read this at the perfect time in my life. A story about an angry young actor who loves a girl that might love his costar who he hates. But this is important for every single male actor who goes to acting school to read. I'm serious.
August 1, 2018
I really enjoyed this. The ending was surprising and vaguely reminiscent of her earlier works, especially in the narrative tone. I would recommend it for anyone to enjoys Woolf.
October 2, 2018
Very interesting and beautifully written novel. It perfectly captures how searching yourself feels like!
July 21, 2018
I loved this book. Gobbled it up in 2 days. Highly recommended. I didn't think I would, honestly -- the story didn't seem like something I would like. But it surprised me. I love when a book does that, don't you?
August 14, 2012
"The Confessions of Edward Day" surpassed every criteria that I ostensibly have for a five star book. I couldn't put it down, but I didn't want it to end. The prose was light but perfect and Martin expertly followed Elmore Leonard's dictum "Don't write the stuff readers skip." The richness of the characters was superb. Edward Day and Guy Margate as doppelgangers, almost alike but not quite (and intertwined like Night and Day, like Sea and Sky), Madeleine as the Tennessee Williams-like frail drama queen, and Marlene as the knowing Svengali.
And then there is the plot, subtexts and narrative structure. This is where this book becomes "litrachur". The actor Edward Day is the unreliable narrator par excellence. As he states in the text, actor's memoirs are not known for their factual integrity or their humility. Everything should be read with this in mind, this is a survivor's tale and there is no outside confirmation of what he writes.
I won't give out the plot, but I'll give an idea of what this book is about. A group of actors meet on a New Jersey beach house in 1974, something happens that affects three of the characters (Edward, Madeleine and Guy) for the rest of their lives. The actors advance in their careers (or don't advance) and we learn much about how actors use themselves in the characters they create. Identity is a huge concern in this novel, maybe the prime concern. We are in Vladimir Nabokov's Terratory now. In fact, Martin begins the book with a very Nabokovian rip on Freud - I am positive this is a nod to Nabokov's obsession with dissing Freud.
While not absolutely necessary, it can greatly add to the reading of the novel if you are familiar with the plays I've listed below. These plays are being produced in the text and the themes of the plays directly reflect what is going on in the novel. In fact, a weird serendipity occurred that as I was reading Sweet Bird of Youth a couple of weeks ago, my wife was independently reading this book. She was bowled over by "The Confessions of Edward Day" (she ended up reading it again and is now going to read all of Martin's novels) and handed it to me, not knowing I had just read the Williams play. What a surprise when I discovered Sweet Bird of Youth was prominent in this book, because it is not at all an iconic Williams play. It is like Marlene and her tarot cards were playing with us! And knowing that play very much informed my reading of this book.
Sources intertwined in this book:
Orpheus and Eurydice, Endymion, and Other Poems
Sweet Bird of Youth
Miss Julie
Uncle Vanya
And then there is the plot, subtexts and narrative structure. This is where this book becomes "litrachur". The actor Edward Day is the unreliable narrator par excellence. As he states in the text, actor's memoirs are not known for their factual integrity or their humility. Everything should be read with this in mind, this is a survivor's tale and there is no outside confirmation of what he writes.
I won't give out the plot, but I'll give an idea of what this book is about. A group of actors meet on a New Jersey beach house in 1974, something happens that affects three of the characters (Edward, Madeleine and Guy) for the rest of their lives. The actors advance in their careers (or don't advance) and we learn much about how actors use themselves in the characters they create. Identity is a huge concern in this novel, maybe the prime concern. We are in Vladimir Nabokov's Terratory now. In fact, Martin begins the book with a very Nabokovian rip on Freud - I am positive this is a nod to Nabokov's obsession with dissing Freud.
While not absolutely necessary, it can greatly add to the reading of the novel if you are familiar with the plays I've listed below. These plays are being produced in the text and the themes of the plays directly reflect what is going on in the novel. In fact, a weird serendipity occurred that as I was reading Sweet Bird of Youth a couple of weeks ago, my wife was independently reading this book. She was bowled over by "The Confessions of Edward Day" (she ended up reading it again and is now going to read all of Martin's novels) and handed it to me, not knowing I had just read the Williams play. What a surprise when I discovered Sweet Bird of Youth was prominent in this book, because it is not at all an iconic Williams play. It is like Marlene and her tarot cards were playing with us! And knowing that play very much informed my reading of this book.
Sources intertwined in this book:
Orpheus and Eurydice, Endymion, and Other Poems
Sweet Bird of Youth
Miss Julie
Uncle Vanya
June 25, 2014
I loved this book. Maybe I’m sick of reading celebrity “tell-alls” or formulaic murder mysteries, but “The Confessions of Edward Day” kept me up late at night relishing the vivid imagery, not wanting to put the book down even though I knew I should be sleeping instead.
Set largely in the 1970s New York City theatre scene, where working actors struggled to make a living, struggled to figure out their characters and struggled to have personal lives, Edward Day recalls these days when he was in his early 20s as he is present-day looking back on that time.
Edward found his calling in college when he decided to major in acting. His friends were also actors who liked to hang out with each other and discuss the current plays and roles available at the time. One weekend Edward and a group of actor friends went away for the weekend to the Jersey shore, where Edward hooked up with the lovely Madeleine, an actress whom he’d had his eye on for some time.
Immediately after their initial coupling, Edward decided to take a walk along the pier. While leaning on the railing, debating his future and remembering his recent past, he accidentally fell over the railing into the ocean. Caught in the current, Edward began screaming for help. Luckily, a passerby was able to jump in and save him.
When Edward came to on the beach, he realized the man who saved him looked quite familiar. In fact, he rather looked like a version of himself. Edward realized the man was named Guy Margate, another actor whom does look remarkably like Edward.
The entire rest of the weekend, and in fact for years to come, Edward and Guy compete for Madeleine’s affection, as well as for many roles when they get back to New York. The competition at time fuels Edward, at times emotionally defeats him. Guy never allows Edward to forget the debt which he is owed, and often uses it to get one up on Edward.
After the weekend in New Jersey, Edward and Madeleine become a couple. Throughout the years, Edward, Madeleine and Guy come together and drift apart, all the while never far from each others’ minds. Success and hardship follow each of the three in different manners.
The end of the book delivers the majority of Edward’s confessions, told as honestly as he can remember, detailing how they have affected the lives of all three main characters.
The story is consuming and does not disappoint. Extremely well-written with the ability to draw the reader in and evoke emotion, this is one of my new favorites and I will definitely be looking into other books by this author.
Set largely in the 1970s New York City theatre scene, where working actors struggled to make a living, struggled to figure out their characters and struggled to have personal lives, Edward Day recalls these days when he was in his early 20s as he is present-day looking back on that time.
Edward found his calling in college when he decided to major in acting. His friends were also actors who liked to hang out with each other and discuss the current plays and roles available at the time. One weekend Edward and a group of actor friends went away for the weekend to the Jersey shore, where Edward hooked up with the lovely Madeleine, an actress whom he’d had his eye on for some time.
Immediately after their initial coupling, Edward decided to take a walk along the pier. While leaning on the railing, debating his future and remembering his recent past, he accidentally fell over the railing into the ocean. Caught in the current, Edward began screaming for help. Luckily, a passerby was able to jump in and save him.
When Edward came to on the beach, he realized the man who saved him looked quite familiar. In fact, he rather looked like a version of himself. Edward realized the man was named Guy Margate, another actor whom does look remarkably like Edward.
The entire rest of the weekend, and in fact for years to come, Edward and Guy compete for Madeleine’s affection, as well as for many roles when they get back to New York. The competition at time fuels Edward, at times emotionally defeats him. Guy never allows Edward to forget the debt which he is owed, and often uses it to get one up on Edward.
After the weekend in New Jersey, Edward and Madeleine become a couple. Throughout the years, Edward, Madeleine and Guy come together and drift apart, all the while never far from each others’ minds. Success and hardship follow each of the three in different manners.
The end of the book delivers the majority of Edward’s confessions, told as honestly as he can remember, detailing how they have affected the lives of all three main characters.
The story is consuming and does not disappoint. Extremely well-written with the ability to draw the reader in and evoke emotion, this is one of my new favorites and I will definitely be looking into other books by this author.
August 11, 2009
This fictional memoir surprised and amazed me. Valerie Martin (Mary Rielly, Trepass) vividly captures the life of an actor in New York in the 1970s. This was a time when actors were clammoring to get in class with Sandy Meisner, Stella Adler, and Uta Hagen, and sat over drinks discussing nothing but their methods, their motivations and their roles. Edward Day takes us on his journey to find truth in his life, and, thus, truth in his acting.
Actors are a strange breed, and Valerie Martin gave us as accurate a portrait as one could hope without spilling over into stereotypes or hyperbole. As someone who has poured over Hagen's Respect for Acting, and Meisner's On Acting, it's no mystery why I got completely swept up in The Confessions of Edward Day. I spent a wee bit of time in New York studying acting, and I used to talk with my fellow actors, all of us in awe over New York in the 1970s. Valerie Martin transports us to that time effortlessly.
Edward Day is on a quest in search of truth in his acting, which,, according to Stella Adler, he should find in the truth of his life. Every conversation, every gesture, every laugh, and every emotion he has in life, he dissects and files away for use in his work. If that is how he lives his life, how can that be truthful? But this is the life of an actor, narcisistic to the core.
Even if you aren't an actor, or don't watch Inside the Actor's Studio, it's fascinating to follow Edward Day from his growing career to his love affairs, with Guy Margate lurking in the wings of both. For the 20+ years of this memoir, Ed is never able to shake Guy, the man who saved his life. At what point is that debt repaid? Beyond the actor's story, this novel is downright dark and creepy, and I loved every minute of it.
Alison's Book Marks
Actors are a strange breed, and Valerie Martin gave us as accurate a portrait as one could hope without spilling over into stereotypes or hyperbole. As someone who has poured over Hagen's Respect for Acting, and Meisner's On Acting, it's no mystery why I got completely swept up in The Confessions of Edward Day. I spent a wee bit of time in New York studying acting, and I used to talk with my fellow actors, all of us in awe over New York in the 1970s. Valerie Martin transports us to that time effortlessly.
Edward Day is on a quest in search of truth in his acting, which,, according to Stella Adler, he should find in the truth of his life. Every conversation, every gesture, every laugh, and every emotion he has in life, he dissects and files away for use in his work. If that is how he lives his life, how can that be truthful? But this is the life of an actor, narcisistic to the core.
Even if you aren't an actor, or don't watch Inside the Actor's Studio, it's fascinating to follow Edward Day from his growing career to his love affairs, with Guy Margate lurking in the wings of both. For the 20+ years of this memoir, Ed is never able to shake Guy, the man who saved his life. At what point is that debt repaid? Beyond the actor's story, this novel is downright dark and creepy, and I loved every minute of it.
Alison's Book Marks
January 19, 2010
This is a novel written in first person from a male actor’s point of view. The author is a female non-actor. Though this disconnect was extremely obvious at times, it seems Martin did an extensive amount of research on the New York theatre community in the 70s. It struck me how little things change. Actors still have to work just as hard as they ever did, dressing rooms are still relatively shitty, actors still sit around and argue about why they should or shouldn’t go equity – the reasons are still the same, they still sleep with each other, are highly competitive, intensely insecure and there’s usually at least one show tune savant in a group of 5 actors or more who will willingly burst into song at a moment’s notice. I guess it was kind of depressing how cliché we are.
I think the most depressing scene in this book was a party composed of visual artists, painters, sculptors, photographers. An actor was dating a painter. He invited a few actor friends to the party. They walked in and looked around at all the artsy chatter and commented that they felt a bit out of place. The boyfriend of the painter responded something to the effect of, “Yeah. They all have identities”. This got me thinking a lot about the social chameleon nature that comes along with being an actor. We get so used to losing our sense of self and accepting another self, that I wonder how much actual self is left sometimes. I know actors like this. I don’t want to become like this. It’s depressing.
I’d recommend this book to other actors so that we could sit around and pick it apart and try to convince ourselves how not like us it is.
I think the most depressing scene in this book was a party composed of visual artists, painters, sculptors, photographers. An actor was dating a painter. He invited a few actor friends to the party. They walked in and looked around at all the artsy chatter and commented that they felt a bit out of place. The boyfriend of the painter responded something to the effect of, “Yeah. They all have identities”. This got me thinking a lot about the social chameleon nature that comes along with being an actor. We get so used to losing our sense of self and accepting another self, that I wonder how much actual self is left sometimes. I know actors like this. I don’t want to become like this. It’s depressing.
I’d recommend this book to other actors so that we could sit around and pick it apart and try to convince ourselves how not like us it is.
December 29, 2012
What is real and what isn't? What is personality and what is persona? When are we acting and when are we simply being? Is all the world really a stage? These are just some of the questions this book raises.
At the centre of the story is (purportedly) a love triangle between a man, his lover, the man who saved his life, and who becomes her husband (I know, it does sound a bit like a Peter Greenaway film). They are all actors, the female successful, but the careers of the two male protagonists are inversely related - when one succeeds the other fails. The story twists and turns around the inextricably linked and claustrophopbic world of the threesome and of the New York stage, and you are simple never sure what is the truth, what is fantasy, and what is something in-between. It's narrated in the first person too, so you're very wary of the potential for false narrative. In fact, there were times when I actually questioned whether the two men were actually one and the same question.
I loved this book, it was extremely different and brilliantly, beautifully written. My only carp is the ending. Like many other readers, I'm happy with an open ending, I'm happy to be left to make my own mind up, but when I finished this book I was quite simply perplexed. Had I missed the point? I went back and read bits of it again, but I hadn't missed anything. The point is, I think, that I was meant to feel like this. Which is true to life and true to the book, but ultimately just a little bit of a let down. Don't let this detract you from reading it though, you'd be missing a treat. And I'm definitely going to be putting more of Ms Martin's books on my TBR.
At the centre of the story is (purportedly) a love triangle between a man, his lover, the man who saved his life, and who becomes her husband (I know, it does sound a bit like a Peter Greenaway film). They are all actors, the female successful, but the careers of the two male protagonists are inversely related - when one succeeds the other fails. The story twists and turns around the inextricably linked and claustrophopbic world of the threesome and of the New York stage, and you are simple never sure what is the truth, what is fantasy, and what is something in-between. It's narrated in the first person too, so you're very wary of the potential for false narrative. In fact, there were times when I actually questioned whether the two men were actually one and the same question.
I loved this book, it was extremely different and brilliantly, beautifully written. My only carp is the ending. Like many other readers, I'm happy with an open ending, I'm happy to be left to make my own mind up, but when I finished this book I was quite simply perplexed. Had I missed the point? I went back and read bits of it again, but I hadn't missed anything. The point is, I think, that I was meant to feel like this. Which is true to life and true to the book, but ultimately just a little bit of a let down. Don't let this detract you from reading it though, you'd be missing a treat. And I'm definitely going to be putting more of Ms Martin's books on my TBR.
February 1, 2016
Aspiring actor Edward Day narrates his own story which largely pivots around his attraction to one of his fellow aspirants, Madeleine, and a life-changing incident when they, and a group of actor friends, attend a weekend beach party in New Jersey. Having already formed an attachment to Madeleine, Edward goes for a late night stroll and, after a freak accident, falls into the ocean, only to be saved at the point of drowning by party guest Guy Margate. Grateful for his life, Edward is perturbed when it becomes clear that Guy is also attracted to Madeleine and the feeling appears to be mutual. For the rest of the novel, in the narrow sphere of the acting world, Guy and Edward battle for supremacy to win the affections of Madeleine, with Guy using the fact that he saved Edward's life regularly to gain the upper hand. None of the three main characters are particularly pleasant people, even Edward himself, but I found myself drawn in by the story - 8/10.
February 1, 2015
On the reading front I just finished Valerie Martin's The Confessions of Edward Day (Nan A. Talese, 2009). I have never been a big fan of reading fiction and usually pick up any fiction book with great trepidation. But coming across a reference to the book in my reading travels I was intrigued (can't remember where, most likely the New York Review of Books). Upon opening the book I found myself drawn into the story unable to put it down. Martin's writing is heady and rich and follows the career of Edward Day a method actor trying to make his way in the world of theatre in New York in the 1970s. The story follows him and a doppelganger who rescues him from an accidental fall into the ocean while on the Jersey shore and what happens in their rather twisted lives. The characters, all theatre types are fascinating in how Martin manages to make their experiences and their often odd approachs to emotions and living come across in a readable and enjoyable manner.
October 3, 2009
Like Martin's novel Mary Reilly, which is narrated by Dr. Jekyll's faithful servant, The Confessions of Edward Day manages to be both subtle and forceful. Critics praised Martin's ability to slowly build tension and keep readers on the very edge of their seats. They also enjoyed her depiction of the struggling actor's world, with its endless waiter jobs, auditions, insecurity, and cutthroat competition. One notable exception, the critic from Newsday, felt that Edward's character bordered on caricature, particularly when he admires himself in the mirror and makes wry observations about life and love. Still, most critics found Edward to be a flawed, intriguing, protagonist, and definitely one worth getting to know. This is an excerpt of a review published in Bookmarks magazine.
June 28, 2013
Fascinating book. As a person involved in live theatre, I might be a bit partial. For me, it was delightful to read frequent references to Pinter, Stanislavsky, Chekhov, Shakespeare, and Broadway. The storyline reaches out to grab you like Guy Margate does to the shady protagonist from a "rip current". The author, Valerie Martin, keeps you watching the revolving doors of auditions and relationships until she brings the story to a unique climax. The disappointing aspect of this novel is the last two pages. Why does the stranger have to be an unlikely admirer? There were so many better choices to finish this thing. Even if the stranger had worn a moustache, it would have hooked us back into the theme of "identity". The heavily symbolic heimlich manoeuvre was a good plot device, but the admirer was too coincidental and his final line, too Hollywood.
November 10, 2010
Another well-told tale from one of my favorite authors. It's a fictional memoir of an actor. Most of it takes place in the 1970s in New York City. I didn't find the depiction of the setting to be extremely well done; maybe this is intentional - the result of the level of self-absorption of the main character who's so wrapped up in his own head he isn't paying attention to the politics or culture around him, other than theater. For this reason and because of his seeming inability to love Madeleine, rather than just desire her, I found Edward only somewhat interesting and ultimately unlikable. I found the tragic Madeleine - whose first husband is unable to consummate their love (we think) - more compelling than Edward, although we don't get to know her as well.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 14, 2013
Probably closer to 3.5 but I'll round up given that I found it engrossing, well-written, and stayed up far too late on a weeknight to finish it. Martin says something I liked about complicated love. Despite individuals' efforts to make it less complicated, their narratives straightforward, easier on the psyche, sometimes love (and other emotions) are tangled up in such a way that it is impossible to unravel without cutting it into countless pieces. And that is the decision that some are faced with: to understand that love fully is at the risk of damaging it irrevocably, but to accept it means to do so in a messed and tangled state that will never be straightened. Of course, this isn't the whole of the novel, just something that struck me about it.
January 13, 2010
I don't know why I read this book all the way through, except the writer's engaging style and curiosity about the big reveal. The message is that actors have no souls or morals beyond the parts they play. Lead character is an actor is saved from drowning by another actor who is his shadow personality. The main character shows no growth or change and the big reveal is anticlimactic at best. Prominent author, who's won the Booker Prize, which made it eminently readable and the nuances of character were all there, plus the shadow character was unpredictable and enigmatic, so I was eager to find out where/how he'd next appear.
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