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384 pages, Hardcover
First published May 2, 2024
‘Comet 1899 III du Lac, not truthfully named, is five months from perihelion. It is crossing the orbit of Jupiter. Obedient to Kepler’s stern and perfect laws, the semi-major axis of its orbit sweeps out equal areas in equal time, which is to say: it’s only going to get faster. It is excited. Already its hard cold carapace is thrilling to the sun, and sublimating into gas; it has acquired a little atmosphere, and particles of dust are drawn out from the comet’s faint gravitational field.’I vividly remember encountering Perry for the first time, reading the opening pages of The Essex Serpent on a late plane from London to Belfast, and marvelling, thinking this is more poetry than prose:
‘It was not quite noon. High in the earth’s atmosphere the light refracted through ice crystals in obedience to certain laws, and described a perfect geometric circle round the sun, solid and unbroken as a city wall. ‘Do you see that?’ said Thomas, dismissing Grace, and the echo of her name in the vestibules of his heart.’‘Enlightenment’ spoke to my feelings and into my life in many ways: stargazing is one of my own interests and I share a (surprising!) number of other qualities and life experiences with the protagonist Thomas ('his interest in the moon decreased his capacity to suffer'). I do think Sarah Perry’s words can speak for themselves, so I hope I’ll be forgiven for citing masses from the text; in my notes, I’ve highlighted great yawning paragraphs because the writing is so blazingly good.
‘Let’s say the jays in Potter’s Field, now in their seventh generation, were shaken from the branches of the hazel by a thud; let’s say the rats in Lowlands Park paused briefly in their scavenging, and shrugged, and went on with vital business, as did the men in yellow jackets tending to the potholes on Station Road. Let’s say Grace Macaulay, coming out of the pound shop into white perpendicular light, heard the bloodless mechanical wail that followed the thud, and thought perhaps a train had hit the buffers, or struck a deer wandered in from Lowlands Park. But she had no time to spare on imagined disasters, and went briskly over the road to the Jackdaw and Crow where a woman watering hanging-baskets agreed with Grace that certainly it was much hotter than she would have liked, and that yes: she’d certainly heard that bang, but this was Aldleigh, and did anything ever happen here? No, said Grace, no, it never did; she walked under dripping baskets and delighted in the water, then went up an iron staircase fastened to the pub’s external wall in case of fire. As she went up the world went down, and dwindled to something inconsequential at her feet: she had no stake whatever in the thud, the potholes in the street, the customers converging on the threshold of the pound shop. She covered her ears against sirens coming now down Station Road, and was home.’While we’re speaking of comparisons, ‘Enlightenment’ certainly has the depth and poignancy of ‘Still Life’, and Thomas’s obsessive hunt for details of the life of the Lowlands Ghost, Maria, is reminiscent of Scottie’s investigation into Carlotta Valdes in Hitchcock’s film, ‘Vertigo’. The writing is sensitive and fine, reminding me of Diane Setterfield's Once Upon a River.
‘“I’m going,” [Nathan] said, “I want to look – come on, Grace, don’t you want to see if the tide’s out? Don’t you want to hear the bell?” He held out his hand. Grace looked at it, and her own hand listed in response. Then she remembered her anger at the power he exerted over her happiness, and how unconsciously he exerted it; so she put her hands in her pockets, and shrugged, and delighted to see him flinch against this small refusal. “All right,” she said.’In fact, the foundation of the novel comprises the way Thomas Hart and Grace Macaulay relate to each other and to other individuals - principally, James Bower and Nathan, and also a Romanian vagrant whom they befriend, as well as the ‘ghost’ of a nineteenth-century astronomer, Maria (along with other minor characters who attend the Baptist chapel). Significantly, the four figures with whom Thomas and Grace’s connection to each other intersects, are mostly remote or absent. Even Grace and Thomas are estranged for part of the text:
‘Grace Macaulay – in whose veins ran Essex rivers and Bible ink; in whose philosophy the devils of hell and the saints of Bethesda did battle with her reason and her nature – sat with her phone on the bare floor of a Hackney room and thought of Thomas Hart.’So, ‘Enlightenment’ is very much a novel about separation and solitude, and how a person reaches out into, and is reached by, the world outside their existence; how they affect and are affected by others at a remove. The poignance of this cannot help but act upon the reader. Grace and Nathan’s texts in the final part of the book are utterly shattering, and I could hardly bear to read Thomas's unrequited missives to James, they hurt my heart so much.
‘Imagine you wake from uneasy dreams to find light beaming from the soles of your feet and the palms of your hands. If you woke in a temper, I suppose the light might be red, and if you slept well, perhaps a peaceable green. Now I hear all my readers say: What strange notions you have, Thomas Hart! But bear with me: this isn’t quite as absurd as it sounds. In fact, all your life you’ve been radiating electromagnetic waves, but since you never radiate the part of the spectrum that can be seen, we can tell nothing about you just by looking.’Characterisation of Grace and Thomas is paramount in the novel. I was obliterated by the character of Thomas Hart immediately. Within the 3% mark - before Thomas has even reached home from his office - I was fully immersed. And how delicately Sarah Perry constructs character! Not with just dialogue and inner monologue, but through reflections often miniscule, observations seemingly inert, Thomas’s or Grace’s self-introspection:
‘How abject this was! Did women really assemble themselves out of the parts they thought most likely to be wanted? Was that love’s requirement? If so, she’d have none of it.’
‘When she answered, she said either it was because her father said so, or because God did; and as she answered, it struck her that she was often unable to tell the difference.’The only character I’m afraid is not expertly done in ‘Enlightenment’ is that of Cora Seaborne, who reappears from ‘The Essex Serpent’. She plays a not inconsiderable part in the plot; she’s more than a cameo, and I’m just not sure how I feel about the resurrection of Perry’s main character from her best-known novel here, eight years later, especially given her revival by the stunning Claire Daines in the 2022 Apple TV adaptation of ‘The Essex Serpent’. Her comeback also seems somewhat of a jarring deus ex machina; there’s something just too convenient about her reappearance. I worry that Cora is too giant a figure to be included. In the final few chapters, when our focus should be upon the resolution of the plot, introducing Cora Seaborne alongside this runs the risk of her mighty persona eclipsing (apologies for the astronomical pun!) the gentle yet heart-rending climax of all our characters’ relativities.
‘The judicious reader might well think neither prosecution nor defence have brought sufficient evidence before the court, Well, then. Grace Macaulay on the charge of happiness: case dismissed.’Seen this way, everything is interconnected. Look at the reach of the sphere of dependences in this one delicate episode (Perry has always been a fine craftswoman of the death scene):
‘Darkness came in from the periphery until the blanket was the whole of her view – and how marvellous it is, she thought, how remarkable, and it has simply been there on my lap all this time! Look how deep the blue is in the folds, look how the sun strikes it and makes the fibres burn – she lifted it to her cheek, and there’d never, not in all her life, been a sensation like it. She breathed it in, and there was a scent of lavender and laundry powder and her own body wasting in the ugly bed; then beyond this, like a field seen through a gate, the smell of the lanolin that oiled the sheep’s wool and the sweat of the farmer that sheared it – then last of all, a base not of wet iron, the blood of the ewe that nursed the lamb in the hours it could hardly stand.’Again, mark how the sun (celestial protagonist, mirroring Thomas or Grace in our conceit) is fundamental in recording inciting incidents, complications, or dilemmas. The sun’s agency is never discounted, and at pivotal points, its action is conspicuous (even in all the quotations already referenced), as it is in the scene where Grace and Nathan’s union is severed at the moment of her baptism:
‘Then the roving sunlight struck the discs of yellow glass fixed in the windows by the pulpit, and refracting down at the ordained degree lit the surface of the water in the baptistry. Grace Macaulay, turning with unmet hope towards the closing door, entered the shining pool not with the look of falling but of something headed for the sun, and the body of the sinner was lost to unmerited light.’What accessible language for such an elevated trope - it gives me shivers! And, as the plot moves towards its close, as Thomas ages, as characters die, and as the novel’s motion slows down, Perry’s descriptions - according to pathetic fallacy - are similarly seasoned and subdued:
‘Mutely the chapel looked back at him across a car park glossed by rain. Its door was closed, and newly painted green; beside the door a green bay tree flourished like the wicked in the thirty-seventh psalm. An east wind blowing up the Alder moved the cold illuminated air, and the bay tree danced in its small black bed. The chapel did not dance. Its bricks were pale, its proportions austere: it was a sealed container for God. No passer-by would ever take it for a place of worship, and Aldleigh’s children believed it to be a crematorium where old men were converted into ashes and smoke. No sacred carvings flanked the door, and no bells rang; its pitched slate roof shone blue when wet. Its seven tapered windows had the look of eyes half-closed against the sun, and on brighter days, light picked out a single disc of coloured glass set into each window’s apex.’It has been a rare pleasure to review ‘Enlightenment’ for Random House UK, Vintage, via NetGalley. I found Sarah Perry’s latest novel to be tenderly truthful, in places astonishing, cumulatively heartbreaking.