One of the joys of being a book blogger is being aware of such a huge variety of titles. I must read or at least skim reviews for a hundred different books every week, an alarming number of which go straight onto my TBR list. And I find that really exciting but, at the same time, being well-educated about a book before reading it means that I’m rarely surprised by what I read. I’m used to enjoying and appreciating books but I can usually anticipate how I’m going to feel well before I start the book, just based on what certain other bloggers have thought of it. There’s a comfort to that and it never impairs my enjoyment as a reader but I sometimes miss the sheer delight of starting a wonderful book and finding it to be not at all what I had expected. Skylark by Dezső Kosztolányi was just that dash of unexpected brilliance that I’ve been missing lately. Ironically, for someone who has been going on about loving surprises, this review is full of spoilers. Be warned.
It is September 1899 in Sárszeg, an unexceptional town in the heart of Austria-Hungary (modeled on Subotica, Kosztolányi’s hometown in what is now Serbia). When the Vakjay’s beloved, spinster daughter Skylark leaves for a week to visit relatives, Mother and Father don’t know quite what to do with themselves. Their lives revolve around their much loved, ugly, dull daughter and in her absence they find themselves doing the most unexpected things. They dine out, reconnect with old friends and make new ones, go to the theatre, and Father even attends one of the Panther drinking club’s infamous Thursday nights (which all of Friday is needed to recover from). It is an inversion of the classic plot of children running wild once adult authority and supervision is removed, but here it is Skylark, the child, whose mild, loving attentions and constant presence at home restricts her parents.
Mother and Father’s adventures are delightfully and very humourously told, particularly the antics of the Panther club and its intoxicated members. From the moment of Skylark’s departure one Friday to the morning of her return the next, the novel is a charming comedy. Mother and Father are astonished and intrigued by the love affairs of local actors, amazed by the delicious restaurant food (very different than the light, unspiced, but healthful food Skylark cheerfully prepares at home), and energized by their interactions with the townsfolk. And through all this, their reactions are wonderful to behold. No acquaintance goes without comment, no revelation without a full and wondrous appreciativeness. And the Vakjays are such likeable people that you can’t help but adore them and rejoice with them in their enjoyment. But they are simple people who for years have had just one simple wish: to see their daughter married. Every unattached male in town presents a possibility and their hatred of one who once, by walking Skylark home nine years before, briefly gave them cause to hope is complete – and serves as an amusing insight into the Vakjay’s aspirations for Skylark:
He had at one time undoubtedly met with the Vajkay’s highest approval. They could never have wished their daughter a more appropriate suitor. They had always dreamed of a decent, homely type who’d wear unironed broadcloth trousers and a painfully knitted brow; who’d sweat a little and blush when he spoke.
But Skylark is now thirty-five, unmarried, and uglier than ever. For years, the family has gone along, hoping and praying and never speaking of the thing that troubles them most, but finally, in Skylark’s absence, Father stumbles home after a night drinking and unleashes his true feelings, his full anguish to Mother. Without meaning to, their ugly, unremarkable daughter has drained the joy out of their lives and certainly out of her own. They have become used to keeping to themselves, eating always at home, and rarely going out to public places, convincing themselves they don’t want to when the truth is that it is painful and embarrassing for Skylark to go. They all have suffered years and years of disappointments, hoping desperately that someone might come along to marry Skylark, knowing she’s too ugly for anyone to really want to. And each year her future seems even more grim:
‘Do you know how much she’s suffered? Only I know that, with this father’s heart of mine. What with one thing and another. The continual whispering behind her back, the laughter, the scorn, the humiliation. And we too, Mother, how much have we suffered? We waited one year, two years, hoping, as time passed by. We believed it was all a matter of chance. We told ourselves things would get better. But they only got worse. Worse and worse.’
So, though the Vakjays love their daughter, it is only with her away that they can forget their worries, can live for themselves and indulge in their pleasures without feeling guilty for poor, lonely Skylark.
The situation is so frustrating because no one is truly at fault. Skylark can hardly be blamed for being ugly or for wanting to stay among family when she knows how strangers and townspeople react to her appearance. And her parents, who love her above all things, want to make her comfortable and happy, to let her know that she is loved and cherished by them at least. So they allow themselves to be pulled into this relatively isolated way of life. Even when Skylark returns, there’s the assumption that their adventures while she was gone will remain secret. Skylark is helpful and loving, always trying to please everyone and help in any way she can – she is no despot who would ask them to give up the things they love. Her parents do it willingly, out of love.
The final brilliance of this novel is the switch in the very last scene to Skylark’s perspective. The rest of the novel is focused on the senior Vakjays, particularly Skylark’s father, and, as I said before, it is generally quite comedic. But Skylark, even when absent, was always the focus. The contrast of the week she’s spent against her parents’, of her thoughts once home against her parents’ incandescent joy at having her back is heartbreaking and absolutely the perfect way to end this novel, leaving the reader with as much love for Skylark as for her parents.
Skylark is a novel of rare emotional intelligence, perfectly balancing humour with everyday tragedy. So many of the novels about spinsters (and there are many, especially if you’re a Virago fan) focus on the woman herself and, honestly, I’ve not ever had a lot of success with those books. They always seem to have heroines who are subservient to their family’s demands and who meekly try to be of use. Skylark is useful, yes, but she’s also adored, cherished, and at the very centre of her family. She seems a world away from those other women and it seems so much more realistic that her problems, her disappointments are as much hers as they are her parents. Because what is a parent if not the person who loves and cares for you the most, who wants to give you only the happiest of endings and who feels despair and guilt when that does not come?
I am intrigued by this book and want to read it to find out about the contrast in the ending.
It is an amazing book. I can only hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
This sounds so wonderful, Claire, it’s definitely going on my Amazon wishlist right now – very much up my street, with the added bonus that I’ll be reading more literature in translation. (By the way, if you haven’t read Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner, it’s a wonderful antidote to the subservient spinster stream of novels).
Despite reading your review and wanting to read the book on that basis, I do agree that sometimes picking up a book without even reading the blurb, let alone a review, is wonderful. Often doesn’t work, of course, but coming to a book with no preconceptions whatsoever is refreshing sometimes.
I did think of you while reading this, Simon (as I do any time I’m reading about either spinsters or, of course, twins), and I really do think you’ll enjoy it. I haven’t read anything by Sylvia Townsend Warner yet so I’ll put Lolly Willowes on my TBR list right away!
So glad I finally read, and loved, this! Thanks for bringing it to my attention 🙂 The last paragraph of your review is beautiful, Claire.
I loved this book when I read it last year! I recently read the only other novel by Kosztolanyi available in English, Kornel Esti. I think Esti manages to be even better than Skylark.
Oh, I’m so glad to hear that you liked Kornel Esti! I picked it up at the library last week and I’m really looking forward to reading it.
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