What do you think?
Rate this book
The Puzzleheaded Girl: Four Novellas
The women at the heart of these novellas are misrepresented by men and by societal expectations. But they remain defiant. These are modern women, waiting for the world to catch up. Stead captures the contradictions and complications of the 1960s, and their effects on the lives of women and girls.
285 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1967
About the author
Christina Stead
42 books132 followersChristina Stead (1902–1983) was an Australian writer regarded as one of the twentieth century’s master novelists. Stead spent most of her writing life in Europe and the United States, and her varied residences acted as the settings for a number of her novels. She is best known for The Man Who Loved Children (1940), which was praised by author Jonathan Franzen as a “crazy, gorgeous family novel” and “one of the great literary achievements of the twentieth century.” Stead died in her native Australia in 1983.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
September 15, 2015
First of four, very odd. Or rather everyone in it is very odd, not only the girl of the title (though she is perhaps the oddest). I think I like that the story has no explanations for you, that Stead does not spell things out, give you a resolution, a what really happened. All that is left open. Particularly interesting, a blink and you'll miss it moment, Debrett's new girlfriend suggests that a woman reminds her not of Honor, but of Debrett's first wife.
The second I would characterize as follows. The girl talks around and around always the same things without stopping to take a breath, and just at the moment where you think you are ready to up and kill her, the talk becomes somehow fascinating and you can't stop reading. Then a couple of things sort of maybe happen, but it's the talk in the end that matters.
The third also involves exasperating and infuriating people: this seems to be a sort of Stead theme. They never change, they never learn, and Stead leaves them free to continue to be screwed up and exasperating, to the point of putting themselves and others in danger, without personal growth or change of any kind. I think this is, in a weird way, a kind of genius on her part.
I have only one left go of these novellas, now, but I think her longer work is probably quite interesting and well worth a look.
The second I would characterize as follows. The girl talks around and around always the same things without stopping to take a breath, and just at the moment where you think you are ready to up and kill her, the talk becomes somehow fascinating and you can't stop reading. Then a couple of things sort of maybe happen, but it's the talk in the end that matters.
The third also involves exasperating and infuriating people: this seems to be a sort of Stead theme. They never change, they never learn, and Stead leaves them free to continue to be screwed up and exasperating, to the point of putting themselves and others in danger, without personal growth or change of any kind. I think this is, in a weird way, a kind of genius on her part.
I have only one left go of these novellas, now, but I think her longer work is probably quite interesting and well worth a look.
November 8, 2016
The Puzzle-headed Girl: Four Novellas is the ninth book by Australian author, Christina Stead. This edition is published under the Text Classics banner and sports a gorgeous colourful Picasso-esque cover by the talented W H Chong, as well as an introduction by author Fiona Wright. It was first published in 1967. The novellas are thematically linked.
The Puzzleheaded Girl: Honor Lawrence applies for a job at the Farmers’ United Corporation, and Augustus Debrett employs her as a filing clerk. She is obviously poor, but refuses promotion to better pay, stating “I hate and despise business and anything to do with making money….It is the enemy of art”. Eventually, this enigmatic girl leaves his employ, only to reappear at irregular intervals in his life (or does she?). The story spans many years and several countries.
The Dianas: Lydia is living in a hotel Paris, supposedly looking for a French husband, with several potential relationships on the go. Her friends and family are described in potted histories and anecdotes. Lydia comes across as silly, shallow, selfish and thoroughly unlikeable. She illustrates just how nasty she can be when taking apparent revenge on one of the mother’s admirers.
The Rightangled Creek: Writer Laban Davies and his wife Ruth have forsaken city life for a poor country Pennsylvania existence, where Laban can work without the distracting influence of drink and drinking friends. They raise and educate their son Frankie to succeed. Sam Parsons comes to visit and eventually, he and his nature-loving wife, Clare take over the let of the farmhouse. From the agent Sam hears the intriguing story of the owner’s daughter, and tragedies that have befallen other residents.
Girl from the Beach: International journalist George (Pyotr) complains to his friends, Martin and Louisa Dean, about his troubles with ex-wives and the girl he wants to marry. Months later, in Paris, the Deans encounter Linda Hill, the daughter of their friend Arthur, who is meant to be at the Sorbonne, but instead is stealing hotel cutlery and towels; George too, is there, and falls for Linda. Do these two bizarre characters deserve each other?
Stead effortlessly captures the feel of the era she is describing, with spare and beautiful prose, but her some of main characters are difficult to relate to, each of them being a misfit, sometimes naïve, sometimes sly, often irritating. These stories may resonate with readers of a certain era. A collection of modern classic fiction from an award-winning Australian author.
The Puzzleheaded Girl: Honor Lawrence applies for a job at the Farmers’ United Corporation, and Augustus Debrett employs her as a filing clerk. She is obviously poor, but refuses promotion to better pay, stating “I hate and despise business and anything to do with making money….It is the enemy of art”. Eventually, this enigmatic girl leaves his employ, only to reappear at irregular intervals in his life (or does she?). The story spans many years and several countries.
The Dianas: Lydia is living in a hotel Paris, supposedly looking for a French husband, with several potential relationships on the go. Her friends and family are described in potted histories and anecdotes. Lydia comes across as silly, shallow, selfish and thoroughly unlikeable. She illustrates just how nasty she can be when taking apparent revenge on one of the mother’s admirers.
The Rightangled Creek: Writer Laban Davies and his wife Ruth have forsaken city life for a poor country Pennsylvania existence, where Laban can work without the distracting influence of drink and drinking friends. They raise and educate their son Frankie to succeed. Sam Parsons comes to visit and eventually, he and his nature-loving wife, Clare take over the let of the farmhouse. From the agent Sam hears the intriguing story of the owner’s daughter, and tragedies that have befallen other residents.
Girl from the Beach: International journalist George (Pyotr) complains to his friends, Martin and Louisa Dean, about his troubles with ex-wives and the girl he wants to marry. Months later, in Paris, the Deans encounter Linda Hill, the daughter of their friend Arthur, who is meant to be at the Sorbonne, but instead is stealing hotel cutlery and towels; George too, is there, and falls for Linda. Do these two bizarre characters deserve each other?
Stead effortlessly captures the feel of the era she is describing, with spare and beautiful prose, but her some of main characters are difficult to relate to, each of them being a misfit, sometimes naïve, sometimes sly, often irritating. These stories may resonate with readers of a certain era. A collection of modern classic fiction from an award-winning Australian author.
July 6, 2018
I’ve only read the title piece so far but it was pretty great. Strangely great, given that for half the time I was thinking, ‘Gee, is this all?’ It’s so programmatic it’s damn near abbreviated, all angular phrases, weird comma-placement, redundant semi-colons and an abrupt, urgent-but-distracted style, as if she wanted desperately to say something that could only half be said in words. But by halfway through I was warming to it. There’s never been – or I’ve never seen – a character quite like this before. ‘She’s the ragged, wayward heart of woman that doesn’t want to be caught and hasn’t been caught,’ so the blurb has it. She’s some kind of martyred saint, I guess, a stubborn idealist, a Myshkin. And she lives, you know? It all does, despite being so hastily sketched. I’m gonna put this down now because too much of this style will tax me (and my inbox is crowded with scintillating new purchases), but I’ll get back to it. I knew there must be something to this Christina Stead person. Bravo! I love a good novella.
September 26, 2018
Christina Stead was an Australian writer but none of these novellas from the mid-1960s are set in Australia nor do they feature Australian characters. They feature Americans living either in America or France. Stead herself lived in America for a period of time and seems to have been an astute observer of her surroundings, if her writing here is any indication of that time.
The titular novella, first in the collection, features an archetypal incorruptible young woman named Honor Lawrence who appears psychically linked to an American businessman named Augustus Debrett from the time he hires her to work in the firm he formed with several of his friends. Throughout his life and frequent moves she always manages to locate him, often to ask for money. She also visits his original business partners, as well, but after their firm dissolves, their presence in the story becomes less prominent. As time goes on she appears increasingly down on her luck yet some part of her always still appears untouched by the darkness of life. This one has the feel of a modern allegory. (4)
The second novella, The Dianas follows the vacuous adventures of an American girl named Lydia who is spending the summer in Paris. Lydia's extreme self-absorption made the experience of reading her story incredibly tedious. In all honesty I skipped through some of her more rambling monologues. In order to escape an awkward situation of her own making involving two young suitors, she runs off on a trip with a dull middle-aged man who is a friend of her mother's. When he tries to make a move on her she really runs him through the ringer. It might have been more entertaining if either character had my sympathies as a reader. (3)
Third in order is The Rightangled Creek, subtitled 'A Sort of Ghost Story' and by far my favorite of the lot. This showcases all of Stead's prodigious writing talents. It's the kind of odd modernist writing I love most (but regrettably can never find enough of), featuring an expansive cast of eccentric characters, subtly absurd humor, lively dialogue, and lush, beautifully disturbing descriptions of the natural world (situated oddly enough in far western central New Jersey, close to the Delaware River). It reminded me a bit of Barbara Comyns' Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead, in part because both works feature prominent floods but also in the similar portraiture of rural weirdness. And there is a lot going on beyond this weirdness. This one also perfectly captures in theme the 'living in the city versus the country' conundrum I often find myself mulling over. (4)
The final novella, Girl from the Beach, follows a number of Americans through the late 40s and early 50s from NYC over into Paris and its environs. The primary characters are a married couple, Laura and Martin Dean, who are leftist intellectuals, their several-times divorced, middle-aged journalist friend George Paul, and the daughter Linda of some other good friends of theirs. George Paul is basically a narcissist who fills the pages with nonstop monologues about his troubles with women. The Deans themselves are mild-mannered people who feel constantly put upon by friends and acquaintances. When they travel to France, Linda shows up and tries to attach herself to them. But they're not having it, with the excuse that the man Martin has been ill. Soon, sleazy George Paul, who has a thing for younger women (like half his age), comes to visit and immediately falls for Linda. This turns into quite a wild ride for George, even by his usual standards. Frankly, I found both of these people intolerable and didn't particularly care what happened to either of them. (2.5)
Despite the at times stark differences between these novellas, there are also commonalities. With the exception of those in the first novella, Stead's main characters here are chiefly of two types: worldly, vaguely left-leaning Americans, restless and underemployed; and spoiled, perpetually dissatisfied young women in search of adventures. Her minor characters are almost equally well drawn and come from all walks of life. As Angela Carter points out in the introduction, though, continuity is not Stead's strong suit. Characters and plot threads appear and disappear without explanation. However, this somehow feeds pretty well into her depictions of the malaise clinging to her characters.
May 20, 2020
Tales of strange, lost girls. Not for those who like constructed, straight forward, *edited* writing. What I love about Stead are her long rambles - which becomes quite beautiful in a particular passage from the story The Righttangled Creek. I will never forget that spider basking in the sunlight on the cottage porch.
September 10, 2018
This book was *exhausting* but definitely worth the read. Mostly it was beautiful but sometimes it was opaque and a slog.
Book 1: traumatic upbringings are tragic in that they make their survivors unbearable to other people.
Book 2: poor-little-rich girls are tragic in that they ruin others' lives but never their own.
Book 3: trauma can be stored in a place, regardless of its natural beauty.
Book 4: selfish men look for emotionally vulnerable women upon whom they can easily impose their will. This man is presented with a woman in distress and sees only a woman he can bend to his will; a woman he can use up to make himself happy.
Books 1, 2 and 4 are reminiscent of The Dud Avocado or Daisy Miller: they parody that "flighty woman" trope of yore. We are never shown the motivations of these women, who are so infuriating to the men's intentions. We can hardly infer anything about them from the limited information the male focalisers present. We are *desperate* for their motovations. This is deliberate: these women exist only for men to project onto.
Book 3 is more esoteric and obtuse: nature is the difficult woman. The creek flooding, the insects invading the house, the crying dove, all serve to confound the human characters and drive them out from the valley. I loved this third book the most.
Book 1: traumatic upbringings are tragic in that they make their survivors unbearable to other people.
Book 2: poor-little-rich girls are tragic in that they ruin others' lives but never their own.
Book 3: trauma can be stored in a place, regardless of its natural beauty.
Book 4: selfish men look for emotionally vulnerable women upon whom they can easily impose their will. This man is presented with a woman in distress and sees only a woman he can bend to his will; a woman he can use up to make himself happy.
Books 1, 2 and 4 are reminiscent of The Dud Avocado or Daisy Miller: they parody that "flighty woman" trope of yore. We are never shown the motivations of these women, who are so infuriating to the men's intentions. We can hardly infer anything about them from the limited information the male focalisers present. We are *desperate* for their motovations. This is deliberate: these women exist only for men to project onto.
Book 3 is more esoteric and obtuse: nature is the difficult woman. The creek flooding, the insects invading the house, the crying dove, all serve to confound the human characters and drive them out from the valley. I loved this third book the most.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Read
November 23, 2023The Puzzleheaded Girl
This story sort of starts off like an episode of Mad Men with four young business guys breaking off from their old company to form a new company that does….generic business stuff. As they move into the new office, they have need for a file clerk and hire a young woman named Honor Lawrence. She immediately is a kind of unpleasant person to work with, maybe not that good at the job, and otherwise quite needy. When confronted with whether or not to fire her, confusion about one partner wanting to sleep with her (he doesn’t seem to want to) and an allegiance to Socialism in generic terms helps her keep her job. As the company disbands, the four partners go their separate ways, but in the coming years they have a series of run-ins with Honor Lawrence, who is always just on the precipice of making something with her life and just needs a little money and encouragement from them. Whether she’s about to get married, divorced, or go on a trip with an older female benefactor, she only needs a little. Obviously this all breaks down as they try to figure out what to do with her.
Two obvious connections come to mind for this story: Henry James (IE The Beast in the Jungle) and Herman Melville (Bartleby), but something is off about this story, in that it’s clear that the men are the spotlight of the story, but not the focal point. It always seems like Honor is in the periphery, and there’s a real story to be told about her life, but the story just can’t give up these men. It’s an interesting play on whose story gets to be told and what are the effects of privileging one set over the other.
The Dianas
Like the previous novella, this involves a youngish woman trying to figure out how to be herself in a world in which her entire existence is prescribed, thought to be know, told to her, and given as much. She hates it. She is in Paris with her mother having some sort of vacation or convalescence away from a series of family dramas and she is feeling strong pressure to also go ahead and look for a husband. She doesn’t actually seem to like men very much and in her attempts to eschew that part of life’s expectations and maybe just find a job she is both thwarted and ridiculed. She does make a few vain attempts to connect with a man, but she’s so put off by his maleness and his desires that she can barely handle being around him. For his part, he’s “game” but she doesn’t respect that he’s so willing to keep at it with someone who clearly holds him in such strong contempt.
In the end, it’s not clear if she figures out what she wants.
Here’s a sampling:
” “I have never been able to trust a man. It is very foolish of me” she said. “I want a man I can trust always. I want to rest with him and never to be anxious again. Oh, I have had such a wretched life; perhaps I don’t understand men.”
“Have you ever been ill, nervously ill?”
She laughed. “You mean am I crazy? Oh, no Arthur; oh, how ridiculous!”
“I can’t understand it then.” ”
The Rightangled Creek.
America is a weird place because it’s not as “old” as Europe, but only in the sense of cities and cultures. For what it lacks in specific old buildings that go back 1000 years, it more than makes up for it in primeval spaces that seems utterly devoid of life. Yes, you can find wilderness in Europe and Australia, but you can’t as readily find huge swaths of inky forests and open fields and old farms that have given way to dust. Why else would Hawthorne be able to write about the devil’s minions in his neighbors just in the back woods of eastern Massachusetts? Or how else could Westechester County New York be haunted by the headless horseman of Washington Irving’s America?
In this story, it doesn’t take a malignant force to be occupying a house for a family to be utterly unnerved in its rooms. So when this family moves in, just the very presence is enough to disturb them. Christina Stead did not grow up in the US and so the strange landscape so many of us become somewhat inured to through our childhoods has to seem so eerie and strange when it’s not your usual.
Here’s a sampling of this mostly atmospheric story:
“The summer was fat, steamy, heavy-headed, an obsession. Sam went to town to see ‘the boys,’ and Mr. Thornton was busy. Clare was happy in the Dilleys’ place. She put out food for the animals, and pulled up no plants because each plant is a shelter for some living thing. Once or twice when alone, she herself lay down naked in the center of the weed patch, to get all the sun, lay there drowsy thinking of fertility, surrounded by all the life and love of the beast and plant world, part of the earth life.”
Girl from the Beach.
I am always amazed when I read books of certain era (say 1940s-1980s) with how fast people get married, divorced, remarried, and how little time it takes between knowing someone and wanting to marry them. It’s weird that’s there’s a stigma against unmarried relationships (this book calls it an “affair”) but divorce it totally kosher. Got it.
In this novella, a group of emigres of various nationalities living in Europe post war find themselves in and out of relationships, in and out of stable governments, and in and out of work. The constant is there friend George who always seems to be married to some fresh new thing, usually a young American.
As we come to the final stage of his life, the narrative perspective shifts from him to his newest possible charge, Linda, a 22 from the US who is through with the party life and ready to settle back in the US. It seems George might be able to help her out.
This novel plays on the themes of statelessness sort of creating a lack of culture. It should be no surprise how listless and wayward Americans are in Europe after the war, especially since the most stable country in the world (for white people) awaits them back home. So Europe becomes the place to live out that existence. This desire comes in stark contrast and conflict with older values. Through and through I thought this one was a strong version of this story, even though it wasn’t necessarily the most interesting or cohesive of the stories.
This story sort of starts off like an episode of Mad Men with four young business guys breaking off from their old company to form a new company that does….generic business stuff. As they move into the new office, they have need for a file clerk and hire a young woman named Honor Lawrence. She immediately is a kind of unpleasant person to work with, maybe not that good at the job, and otherwise quite needy. When confronted with whether or not to fire her, confusion about one partner wanting to sleep with her (he doesn’t seem to want to) and an allegiance to Socialism in generic terms helps her keep her job. As the company disbands, the four partners go their separate ways, but in the coming years they have a series of run-ins with Honor Lawrence, who is always just on the precipice of making something with her life and just needs a little money and encouragement from them. Whether she’s about to get married, divorced, or go on a trip with an older female benefactor, she only needs a little. Obviously this all breaks down as they try to figure out what to do with her.
Two obvious connections come to mind for this story: Henry James (IE The Beast in the Jungle) and Herman Melville (Bartleby), but something is off about this story, in that it’s clear that the men are the spotlight of the story, but not the focal point. It always seems like Honor is in the periphery, and there’s a real story to be told about her life, but the story just can’t give up these men. It’s an interesting play on whose story gets to be told and what are the effects of privileging one set over the other.
The Dianas
Like the previous novella, this involves a youngish woman trying to figure out how to be herself in a world in which her entire existence is prescribed, thought to be know, told to her, and given as much. She hates it. She is in Paris with her mother having some sort of vacation or convalescence away from a series of family dramas and she is feeling strong pressure to also go ahead and look for a husband. She doesn’t actually seem to like men very much and in her attempts to eschew that part of life’s expectations and maybe just find a job she is both thwarted and ridiculed. She does make a few vain attempts to connect with a man, but she’s so put off by his maleness and his desires that she can barely handle being around him. For his part, he’s “game” but she doesn’t respect that he’s so willing to keep at it with someone who clearly holds him in such strong contempt.
In the end, it’s not clear if she figures out what she wants.
Here’s a sampling:
” “I have never been able to trust a man. It is very foolish of me” she said. “I want a man I can trust always. I want to rest with him and never to be anxious again. Oh, I have had such a wretched life; perhaps I don’t understand men.”
“Have you ever been ill, nervously ill?”
She laughed. “You mean am I crazy? Oh, no Arthur; oh, how ridiculous!”
“I can’t understand it then.” ”
The Rightangled Creek.
America is a weird place because it’s not as “old” as Europe, but only in the sense of cities and cultures. For what it lacks in specific old buildings that go back 1000 years, it more than makes up for it in primeval spaces that seems utterly devoid of life. Yes, you can find wilderness in Europe and Australia, but you can’t as readily find huge swaths of inky forests and open fields and old farms that have given way to dust. Why else would Hawthorne be able to write about the devil’s minions in his neighbors just in the back woods of eastern Massachusetts? Or how else could Westechester County New York be haunted by the headless horseman of Washington Irving’s America?
In this story, it doesn’t take a malignant force to be occupying a house for a family to be utterly unnerved in its rooms. So when this family moves in, just the very presence is enough to disturb them. Christina Stead did not grow up in the US and so the strange landscape so many of us become somewhat inured to through our childhoods has to seem so eerie and strange when it’s not your usual.
Here’s a sampling of this mostly atmospheric story:
“The summer was fat, steamy, heavy-headed, an obsession. Sam went to town to see ‘the boys,’ and Mr. Thornton was busy. Clare was happy in the Dilleys’ place. She put out food for the animals, and pulled up no plants because each plant is a shelter for some living thing. Once or twice when alone, she herself lay down naked in the center of the weed patch, to get all the sun, lay there drowsy thinking of fertility, surrounded by all the life and love of the beast and plant world, part of the earth life.”
Girl from the Beach.
I am always amazed when I read books of certain era (say 1940s-1980s) with how fast people get married, divorced, remarried, and how little time it takes between knowing someone and wanting to marry them. It’s weird that’s there’s a stigma against unmarried relationships (this book calls it an “affair”) but divorce it totally kosher. Got it.
In this novella, a group of emigres of various nationalities living in Europe post war find themselves in and out of relationships, in and out of stable governments, and in and out of work. The constant is there friend George who always seems to be married to some fresh new thing, usually a young American.
As we come to the final stage of his life, the narrative perspective shifts from him to his newest possible charge, Linda, a 22 from the US who is through with the party life and ready to settle back in the US. It seems George might be able to help her out.
This novel plays on the themes of statelessness sort of creating a lack of culture. It should be no surprise how listless and wayward Americans are in Europe after the war, especially since the most stable country in the world (for white people) awaits them back home. So Europe becomes the place to live out that existence. This desire comes in stark contrast and conflict with older values. Through and through I thought this one was a strong version of this story, even though it wasn’t necessarily the most interesting or cohesive of the stories.
November 10, 2023
Oh so dreary. The prose in these stories is so uniformly frenetic that I can’t distinguish the plot elements from the descriptive embellishments. It just goes on and on in a raving litany; cascading breathlessly from whimsical scene-setting to tedious introspective monologues. Although there are many events in each story, overall they seem quite directionless because no event is given precedence over others.
And I don’t understand any of the characters or their motivations. I don’t know if it’s the peculiar post-war era or the peculiar American culture but they all seemed completely mad. I know there are supposed to be feminist messages in here with the female characters rebelling against their fate as wives and mothers but I could have strangled every annoying one of them.
And I don’t understand any of the characters or their motivations. I don’t know if it’s the peculiar post-war era or the peculiar American culture but they all seemed completely mad. I know there are supposed to be feminist messages in here with the female characters rebelling against their fate as wives and mothers but I could have strangled every annoying one of them.
December 30, 2020
I was surprised how much I enjoyed this after trying and failing so many times to finish the Man Who Loved Children. I skimmed over the final story in this because it had similarly OTT vibes, but I enjoyed the first three, especially the one about the haunted cottage.
The way this is edited is kind of odd and hard to follow. The table of contents only refers to the introduction and the main story, but there are other stories, and as a result it’s difficult to know which sections are meant to be read together. Page titles are also inconsistent from story to story. Confusing!
The way this is edited is kind of odd and hard to follow. The table of contents only refers to the introduction and the main story, but there are other stories, and as a result it’s difficult to know which sections are meant to be read together. Page titles are also inconsistent from story to story. Confusing!
February 22, 2018
I enjoyed it. I liked how strange many of the characters seemed. Their stories were interesting.
March 11, 2017
I've written two blog posts about this collection of four short stories:
https://anzlitlovers.com/2017/01/28/t... and
https://anzlitlovers.com/2017/03/11/g...
I suggest you read them in order.
https://anzlitlovers.com/2017/01/28/t... and
https://anzlitlovers.com/2017/03/11/g...
I suggest you read them in order.
Read
July 28, 2017Kirkus
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews