Recently, I reviewed Michel Faber’s new novel The Book of Strange New Things. My greatest sense of the story was a feeling of disconnection and I used descriptors like emotionally sterile, carefully controlled, and, in regards to the main character’s mindset “dreamy apathy”. Then, earlier in the week I came across this interview Faber just did with NPR. I don’t want to paraphrase here so please listen to it—it’s less than 3 minutes long. Michel Faber Interview
Yes, Faber wrote this novel while his wife was dying of bone marrow cancer. I’m not back today today because I think my lackluster review ever reached Faber’s eyes or even matters in the larger scheme of things. I’m writing because, for as much as I feel bad about not “getting” the book I also wonder just how much an author’s personal life should play into reviews of their books. For me, now knowing that Faber constructed this world where a man is separated from his wife by billions of miles and so cannot truly understand the hardships she is going through back on Earth, makes perfect sense. It casts the entire novel in a whole new light. And yet, this overwhelming sadness I see now in much of the story is only me imposing myself on a situation I know nothing about.
I have no idea what it is like to be a professional reviewer for a book publication and so, don’t know if the people reading novels for The Guardian, The New York Times, or any of the other big publications are given personal author background information when they read a book for review. Or is it considered irrelevant and the work is to be judged on its own merit? Given that the mainstream media make no mention of Faber’s personal life in their reviews it seems to me that it is not a factor to be considered and by and large I agree, but for me much of my perception of The Book of Strange New Things has changed. I may be confused and conflicted on what is fiction and what is tinged with reality but there is no doubt about the novel’s last sentence when the protagonist quotes from the Book of Matthew, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. For me, this heartbroken statement lends more weight to the story than it previously held and knowing of Faber’s loss, gives the book deeper meaning. I’m not so sure whether this is a good thing for readers or whether the story itself should have evoked emotion on its own—what do you think?
I think when most of us find out something about authors after reading, it’s information that changes the way we see the AUTHOR not the text, which makes your situation pretty unique. I don’t think anything like this has ever happened to me, but I just kind of love that you’re able to appreciate the book a little more now.
Well, I also feel that now I’ve colored the book for you if you read it and will be very curious to see what you think. When I read it that last line seemed tender but now it is crushing in its sadness.
I hadn’t heard anything about this either, Catherine. And while anyone going through the prolonged grief of losing a dearly loved spouse, and it’s easy (in retrospect) to see how this must have affected the author, still, a fiction book should stand on its own legs, almost as if it is its own world, a thing apart. If it’s read a hundred years from now, there won’t be anyone standing over the reader’s shoulder saying, he wrote this while his wife is dying – isn’t that sad?
Meant to say: going through the prolonged grief of losing a spouse ‘has my full sympathy’.
The NPR interview is the only thing I’ve seen or heard about his personal situation. All the big paper reviews are solely about the book and, as you say, that’s how it should be. I don’t disagree but am caught up in my personal reaction to the book now that I know this. Made the book infinitely sadder and more complex.
Thanks for the thought-provoking post. I do think that there are times when more knowledge would alter how we view certain books (movies, games, interactions, pretty much anything). It is a constant reminder that we never know what a person is experiencing. I still think you needed to provide an honest review, but it is interesting how this information definitely casts things in a different light!
No, we don’t, Lisa, and even after hearing Faber talk about it there is no way to know what he meant in the book. It’s only after listening to him and hearing that this is his last novel that it all becomes freighted with meaning.
I tend to think a book should be able to stand on its own; you shouldn’t have to know things about the author to “get” it. But on the other hand, I find that when I read classics (especially modern classics), I have a much deeper understanding and appreciation of the text when I know the context in which it was written. I think it’s important to know about Kurt Vonnegut’s war experiences when reading Slaughterhouse-Five, and The Bell Jar takes on extra meaning when you know it was based on Sylvia Plath’s life. These are incredible books on their own, but I like knowing the context.
So, I think it’s fine to draw conclusions about a book without knowing details about the author. Their experiences inform their writing, and if they do a good job, their writing will ring true. But I can also totally see how learning certain things about an author could impact your perception of his work, and I think that’s fine, too. Literature isn’t created in a vacuum.
You’re so wise- “literature isn’t created in a vacuum” says it all. I guess because this is science fiction it never occurred to me it could be about real life. Which may be the way Faber wanted it. Or the entire thing is an allegory. So much to consider!
I agree with Leah, although she did a much better job of expressing the sentiment than I would have! I do think a book should stand on its own but, like Shannon said, most of the things I know about authors don’t connect as directly to what they’ve written as in this particular case. This reminds me how every reader brings something different to a book. For instance, someone who had recently experienced a loss in their own life might have found this book particularly moving. We all bring our own baggage to every book we pick up, but ideally (I think) an author will write in a way that’s relatable to many people, even those without similar experiences or knowledge of the author’s own circumstances.
That’s exactly it, Katie! I don’t know (and will never know) how Faber meant to frame his grief in the novel- I just imposed my own feelings onto what I had read- after the fact.
I think a book has to be able to stand on its own, but that doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate it even more knowing the context or where the book was coming from. This example is a bit different, because it doesn’t involve the death of a spouse, but I have been reading Billy Joel’s biography, and reading about where he was in his life when he wrote all his songs has made me appreciate them so much more. I liked them before, but now I really ‘get’ them. I think the same could be said for poets and their poetry. So, why not books? Thanks for the great post!
In scholarly study it’s frowned upon to delve too deeply into the author’s biography. It’s considered a passe way to study and evaluate. That aside, it certainly can enrich my reading experience to know about an author’s personal struggles. I’ve enjoyed reading Paul Auster’s memoirs and knowing more about him that helps his fiction resonate with me. Same thing with Cynthia Bond….her book, Ruby, in all its brutality, made a new kind of sense knowing about her own backstory.
Uh oh…what about Cynthia Bond?! That book shook me up without knowing anything about her! Off to google.
I love how Leah stated it, I agree with her. It’s strange though, I automatically apply that to music, wholeheartedly… but I usually forget or don’t bother to do so with authors and their fiction. 🙁