jgraeme2007
in
ci5hq
The Reading Room -- NOVEMBER by Sebastian
http://www.thecircuitarchive.com/tca/archive/18/november.html
Or
http://www.oblique-publications.net/archives/2note/4_2Qnovemberredone.pdf
Original Publication: ...As Two £3 Notes, Oblique Publications, 1991
I have a special fondness for Discovered in a Graveyard stories. Partly because I think the episode is one of the best and most complex (even if ( Read more... )
Or
http://www.oblique-publications.net/archives/2note/4_2Qnovemberredone.pdf
Original Publication: ...As Two £3 Notes, Oblique Publications, 1991
I have a special fondness for Discovered in a Graveyard stories. Partly because I think the episode is one of the best and most complex (even if ( Read more... )
The day was dreary, a dark grey lowering
I love Sebastian’s work and I love this story but for some reason whenever I think of it I always associate it with depression rather than with the usual hefty dose of melancholy which is so often a part of her style (even with the more humourous stories where it's often a bitter-sweet kind of humour). So I’ve been trying to work out *why* I remember this story in the way that I do and more so than her other stories. Maybe it’s the time of year (and that ominous choice of title): that bleak month when we’re all waiting to get Christmas over and done with; or the fact that much of the story takes place in a rundown hotel room and is slightly claustrophic (and yet they seem to find it cosy and can shut out the world but I don't see it that way); maybe there's too much emphasis (inevitable in a confined space?) on their - at times - self-destructive relationship? Maybe the backbiting isn't balanced enough with sweeter sentiments so that at times they just don't seem to be on the same wavelength? And when we get one of Sebastian’s trademark Doyle snaps: "Don't fuss, for chrissake", I'm thinking, yes, I *have* occasionally seen Doyle behave like this in episodes so I suppose it is canon, but I don’t know..... my overall view of Doyle vis a vis Bodie isn’t quite like that. Maybe, it's as you say, that Bodie is more preoccupied with death than usual and that's not like our Bodie; maybe it’s the way Doyle rejects Bodie’s fussing - I don’t know. Maybe it’s the too realistic portrayal of much of poor London? I think the following paragraph is typical of what I mean with the author’s deliberate use of certain words which seem to colour the whole passage and set the reader up for something very sad: e.g. *grimy* backstreets, ’frail’ (worn and old) pretty dresses, *un*painted swings, *cracked* concrete, gardenless houses backing into more of the same. I feel all the adjectives chosen are deliberately negative and sad and it’s all a bit poor and dismal. (Maybe it’s just my nostalgia showing for 70s London? Dunno.) Other Sebastian stories can have their depressing elements but knowing that doesn’t seem to colour my overall view of them and I can return to them without a heavy heart, but this one I’m more wary of, more guarded with, and, as you've said, it's all a bit unsettling. But having said that, yes, providing I'm in a strong frame of mind, I'd much rather read a story about two complex, mature characters than something less challenging and unrealistic.
We learn also that even before the shooting the dynamics of their relationship had begun to alter, particularly one drunken night when they got a little carried away together and apparently had sex -- which Doyle has (possibly deliberately) blanked out.
I must admit that I don’t think I remembered that (or that I’d ever realised it) which is why I’ve always thought that the fact they returned to their hotel room after the savage Bodie kiss in the alley and don't even refer to it (even after the other two agents had left) was, I thought, a bit strange and unrealistic.
I love how Sebastian skillfully feeds us bits of important information piece meal, avoiding the perils of the big info dump
Yup, I agree and I think that's the common denominator of all my favourite writers.
And I love the way she just drops certain things into the story and brings the reader back to earth with a vengeance:
Doyle was not yet thirty-five years old.
Anyway, sorry to ramble and I'm sure I've missed some points but I just wanted to point out that although I can and do love this story, for some reason I've always regarded it in a different way to other Sebastian stories. Thanks for the rec and review!
Reply
I agree that it is probably her darkest work. Darker than Velvet Underground, which always seems just a bit stagey and contrived to me (though such beautiful writing and imagery).
So I’ve been trying to work out *why* I remember this story in the way that I do and more so than her other stories. Maybe it’s the time of year (and that ominous choice of title): that bleak month when we’re all waiting to get Christmas over and done with;
HA! Or for the warmth and comforts and love of the season? I think you're right about the choice of title, though. November can still go either way. Into dead of winter or the brightness of the holidays. Now if she'd named it February...*g*
or the fact that much of the story takes place in a rundown hotel room and is slightly claustrophic (and yet they seem to find it cosy and can shut out the world but I don't see it that way); maybe there's too much emphasis (inevitable in a confined space?)
The pink cocoon! Yes. It's cozy and stifling at the same time. But that cocoon is forcing them to face things they might not confront if they were able to get away from each other.
on their - at times - self-destructive relationship? Maybe the backbiting isn't balanced enough with sweeter sentiments so that at times they just don't seem to be on the same wavelength? And when we get one of Sebastian’s trademark Doyle snaps: "Don't fuss, for chrissake", I'm thinking, yes, I *have* occasionally seen Doyle behave like this in episodes so I suppose it is canon, but I don’t know..... my overall view of Doyle vis a vis Bodie isn’t quite like that.
I think you're right. They're edgier -- the foundation is in canon, but this Doyle is more edgy. Not cruel. He lashes out but each time regrets it. He's very much off-balance, very much afraid that giving into what Bodie is offering will mean the loss of his own independence. He dwells on his age, his mortality -- winter is approaching and he's afraid to accept the cloak that Bodie offers.
Doyle burned, and yet shivered: newly fragile, to invite Bodie's love was surely to kill forever his chance of independence. He could just imagine Bodie, stepping in solicitous, pinning a cloak around his shoulders to protect him from the storm.
Maybe, it's as you say, that Bodie is more preoccupied with death than usual and that's not like our Bodie; maybe it’s the way Doyle rejects Bodie’s fussing - I don’t know. Maybe it’s the too realistic portrayal of much of poor London?
She captures wonderful snapshots of rundown London -- the little girls jumping rope, the seedy pub.
I think the following paragraph is typical of what I mean with the author’s deliberate use of certain words which seem to colour the whole passage and set the reader up for something very sad: e.g. *grimy* backstreets, ’frail’ (worn and old) pretty dresses, *un*painted swings, *cracked* concrete, gardenless houses backing into more of the same. I feel all the adjectives chosen are deliberately negative and sad and it’s all a bit poor and dismal. (Maybe it’s just my nostalgia showing for 70s London? Dunno.)
I think you're right. Outside of that cozy pink room -- which is only cozy because they're there together -- it's a sad and sordid world.
Reply
Me too.
And I love the way she just drops certain things into the story and brings the reader back to earth with a vengeance:
Doyle was not yet thirty-five years old.
Yes. That's a jolt. Doyle feels so old, he frets about the coming winter -- his coming winter. And he's not even forty. Not even thirty-five!
Anyway, sorry to ramble and I'm sure I've missed some points but I just wanted to point out that although I can and do love this story, for some reason I've always regarded it in a different way to other Sebastian stories. Thanks for the rec and review!
Thanks as always for your perceptive comments. Just out of curiosity, do you have a favorite Sebastian story? I think I'd probably pick The Homecoming if I had to choose just one. Although I love so many of her stories.
Reply
I suppose I've always thought that other people might have thought that The Same River was her darkest, or most disturbing story, but it’s one I love and, dare I say, I think it’s a story which does possess elements of hope and happiness.
The pink cocoon! Yes. It's cozy and stifling at the same time. But that cocoon is forcing them to face things they might not confront if they were able to get away from each other.
Good point - hadn’t thought of it in that way.
I think you're right. They're edgier -- the foundation is in canon, but this Doyle is more edgy. Not cruel.
I agree. He’s quick to lose his temper but just as quick to regret it and apologise and his temper is never cruel or pre-meditated.
Just out of curiosity, do you have a favorite Sebastian story? I think I'd probably pick The Homecoming if I had to choose just one. Although I love so many of her stories.
I love The Homecoming but I think in terms of the amount of times I’ve read them and the degree to which I feel I’ve been put through the emotional mill by the time I've finished them (and liked it), then my favourites are Wonderful Tonight and Et In Italia.... Whenever I finish those particular stories (or any great stories) I always feel unsettled, dissatisfied with anything else, envious of what B and D have and really wanting to be in the story with them - to be some part of their lives. I once read something along the lines that great art involves altering the consciousness of people and (I know this is going to sound very poncey) when I finish those particular stories I feel that my outlook on life *is* temporarily altered and that nothing is the same any more(!). I really love Down to the Waterline and First Night, Last Night but they’re all too short. I noticed that you’d written somewhere above that you didn’t understand Wonderful Tonight and now I’m wondering if I have! What kind of thing did you mean?
Reply
Such a great way to put it.
I once read something along the lines that great art involves altering the consciousness of people and (I know this is going to sound very poncey) when I finish those particular stories I feel that my outlook on life *is* temporarily altered and that nothing is the same any more(!).
Maybe it is a little far out there, but I agree with it. How can anyone argue with the fact that we laugh over stories, cry over stories -- we have biological reactions. People become infuriated or depressed when beloved characters are killed. That's just stories. They are very very pwoerful, but then all art is very pwoerful (I can't type tonight!).
I really love Down to the Waterline and First Night, Last Night but they’re all too short. I noticed that you’d written somewhere above that you didn’t understand Wonderful Tonight and now I’m wondering if I have! What kind of thing did you mean?
I have to go back and find my notes on it. I did have questions and wanted to talk about it with someone, but we weren't doing the reading room at the time. I love, love parts of it, but yes, I'm not exactly sure what's going on in other sections. I'll have a look for my notes.
Reply
Ooooh, sounds like there's enough scope there for another fic review?!
Reply
Anyway...
It's a long fic and it looks like it came later in Sebastian's writing career. It's an ambitious effort covering a couple of years (?) in the lad's relationship (mostly their sexual relationship) -- largely, but not entirely -- from Doyle's POV.
Sebastian dedicated WT to Helen Raven for Heat Trace which is I think an uneven (at best) work. (Emotionally overwrought but interesting, I have to say.) And as I think about WT I'm trying to see if there's a connection or a theme...
There's some really nice writing in here and some wonderful characterizations. Great, great moments. Reading this made me desperately want to begin writing Pros again. I find Sebastian inspirational even when I'm shaking my head at some of her choices.
The plot sort of...it's not exactly what I would call plotted. Mostly it's like a rambling psychological exploration...but fascinating. I felt at first that it mostly hinged on miscommunication, but I believe that Sebastian is a better writer than that. Ithink she was trying to get at something more subtle, but I'm not convinced she pulls it off all the way.
I really like it, though I find myself regretting missed scenes or scenes that should have been more fully developed.
I think at this point I was regretting the skipping over of the DiaG section, but we all know that's a personal kink of mine.
I really like this description of how the relationship began...the bit about Doyle sitting in the dark and all she manages to convey about him, about the strains of the job, the dark nights -- and Bodie coming to find him.
And this scene that follows is one of my favorite in all of Prosdom. I LOVE this scene (which I'll post separately since this comment is too long to make it through)
Reply
How had it started?
Bodie was thinking this, looking out along the empty darkened street: remembering the first time.
Routine stuff really: he had infiltrated a ring where the punters were introduced to some temptation, drugs, underage prostitutes of either sex, then offered a gambling circle to get them out of it, nothing so very much out of the ordinary and scarcely of interest to CI5, except that the poor punters tended to have Home Office links. Cowley, on the scent of some triplethink espionage connection, had set himself and Doyle onto it: Bodie as one of the unfortunate punters, presumably because he looked more likely to have ministerial connections than his scruffy partner, who was assigned to the other side, a recruit to the ring itself, a pimp with a whole string of tasty little chickens in his stable.
Only someone had rumbled Doyle, or thought they did, though he had played the part with ease, hardeyed and ruthlessly indifferent to perverse sexuality; sentenced to death in someone's flat by a firing squad of two he had kept up his facade to the end, fighting and protesting to the very moment he was left, blindfolded and tied, against the wall.
Then he had gone quite silent.
Bodie, sweating ice, did not have to imagine what that silence cost him; he was fighting the same battle. Clearly Doyle was thinking along the lines he was: that the whole execution setup was a bluff, to get Doyle talking. But if it was not--?
He would blow the gaffe on Cowley's op. just like that, no question of it, if it would save Doyle's life. But it seemed to Bodie that there would be no spirit of generous forgiveness in the room. And then they might both end up dead.
So...they had sweated on it. Ice and blood.
Eyes on that jeaned figure against the wall, defiant and cold to the last, perhaps ten seconds away from death with the barrels of two Lugers trained on him, Bodie would not have blamed Doyle for breaking down, falling to his knees, crying out for mercy; he had seen the strongest of men turn into children when they realised death was there for them. But Doyle had shown the deepest, steadiest courage: he had simply waited, without a word, or a breath.
And nothing had happened.
Having failed to break him or out him they had hit him about a bit and thrown him aside. It was all over by nightfall.
Bodie had driven then after midnight to Doyle's flat, found him there awake in the dark. Still in darkness, in silence, they had come together, found something which had taken them both by storm.
Something they had not been able to leave behind.
Reply
Another favourite quote of mine from Wonderful Tonight is this one:
The silence began to make him uneasy. He didn’t think he’d told her anything at all that shocking, no details……None of the emotive words of sex and passion there, no mention of lust,desire, fellatio, nothing about the way he had whispered Bodie’s name as their bodies touched in the night, the way Bodie’s kiss had lingered, with love, on his lips........
"Let me get this quite clear," she said at last, quiet and uninflected. "You and 3.7 take two girls away for what, four days. In that time you have sexual contact with your girlfriend, twice and, with Bodie, six times."
Put like that...........
He shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, but it wasn’t.........*Bodie took me by surprise*. *The girls were out*. *Susanna wasn’t in the mood*.
I love the way Kate Ross gets Doyle and the reader to see how his relationship with Bodie looks to the outsider - how extraordinary it is.
I think I can be more objective about it than I used to be and yet I can still love it warts and all. Yes, it's slightly rambling but the writing is such that it's never seemed too long and I've never had to ask where the writer was taking me as I was only too happy to go along for the ride and soak the whole thing up, every time. I think her writing of real people is second to none, in WT and in ET in Italia Ego. The scenes in Scotland in WT with Bodie's little bundle of fun pitted against Doyle's 'home counties' girlfriend are priceless and I felt I *knew* those girls or at least girls very like them. And all the time, running alongside these great characterisations is Sebastian's very own brand of eroticism - everything that has anything to do with Bodie and Doyle is subtly suggestive and has a sexual undertone. e.g. towards the end when they're sitting listening to Mahler - who else could make that kind of scene quite so erotic? And just before then when other Ci5 agents call at the flat and Doyle is wearing nothing under his jeans and he and Bodie are so lost in each other they hardly even care that one of the agents has seen them getting a bit 'too close' in the kitchen.... I want to get the quote from that scene but I know if I leave this comment I'll lose it and I can't cut and paste one thing on top of another......
Thanks for reminding me of that wonderful quote. I've always wanted to try and find an image for it but the closest one I can think of is from Ojuka when Doyle's hands are tied and he's up against the tarpaulin getting done over by whathisname and it wasn't quite right. Right. That was fun!
Reply
I agree. I read her work again and again, wishing for the scenes she left out, wishing she had written more stories, wondering what happened after the last line. There aren't too many writers I do that with.
I think her writing of real people is second to none, in WT and in ET in Italia Ego. The scenes in Scotland in WT with Bodie's little bundle of fun pitted against Doyle's 'home counties' girlfriend are priceless and I felt I *knew* those girls or at least girls very like them.
I love those bits. The deadpan humor of them, the little observations. In WT especially she does a great job with setting too, which isn't generally one of her strengths. But that and November have a very strong sense of place. Well, and IE of course!
And all the time, running alongside these great characterisations is Sebastian's very own brand of eroticism - everything that has anything to do with Bodie and Doyle is subtly suggestive and has a sexual undertone. e.g. towards the end when they're sitting listening to Mahler - who could make that kind of scene so sexy? And just before then when other Ci5 agents call at the flat and Doyle is wearing nothing under his jeans and he and Bodie are so lost in each other they hardly even care that one of the agents has seen them getting a bit 'too close'.... I want to get the quote from that scene but I know if I leave this comment I'll lose it and I can't cut and paste one thing on top of another
Yes, she handles sex in a very interesting way. It's always intrinsic -- it never feels forced into the story, but it's a powerful force beyond simple erotic content (not that there's anything wrong with THAT).
Thanks for reminding me of that wonderful quote. I've always wanted to try and find an image for it but the closest one I can think of is from Ojuka when Doyle's hands are tied and he's up against the tarpaulin getting done over by whathisname and it wasn't quite right. Right. That was fun!
As you say, the idea of Doyle lying alone in the dark after that scene...so powerful.
Reply
Reply
Reply
I thought The Same River was Helen Raven?
Reply
Reply
I know you know the difference! Maybe there's another Sebastian story you were thinking of?
Reply
I can't think of one. For some silly reason I think I was just conflating the two writers. I might have had at the back of my mind HR's comment that when she wrote The Same River she got a very poor response and Sebastian was one of the two or three people who said they loved it.
Reply
Leave a comment