The Victorian Chaise-Longue

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Laski was born to a prominent family of Jewish intellectuals: Neville Laski was her father, Moses Gaster her grandfather, and socialist thinker Harold Laski her uncle. She was educated at Lady Barn House School and St Paul's Girls' School in Hammersmith. After a stint in fashion, she read English at Oxford, then married publisher John Howard, and worked in journalism. She began writing once her son and daughter were born. Having not seen her baby for seven months, Melanie asks, "Do you think he'll know me... do you think it's too late?" and "'When am I going to see him properly?'... She thumped the bed beside her where the baby should lie and had never lain." The Victorian Chaise-longue seems to be listed as gothic or horror in the same vein as Charlotte Perkins Gilman's The Yellow Wallpaper is but I have issues with this classification. In my mind, tagging works as "gothic" or "horror", seems to pass them off as works of the imagination when, in fact, they are quite real. Scary and horrible they may be, but the connotations of the "horror" genre seem to deny such works the sense of veiled realism that truly punches the gut. At first the contrast between the two halves, one set in the then-present, one in Victorian times, seems stark: highlighted by the difference in tone, the opening section has a slightly pulpy, fluffy feel, while the section that follows is far more serious and sombre. Melanie lives in a meticulously-restored house in a newly-gentrified part of London, made possible by her husband’s successful career. She’s carefully tended to and, Laski makes it clear, considered deserving of attention because she’s young and pretty. Milly however, who’s resting on the same chaise-longue is confined to a stuffy sitting-room in a dreary, cluttered house, overseen by her stern sister who’s clearly obsessed with the ways in which Milly has somehow transgressed. However, as Laski’s narrative unfolds it’s evident Melanie and Milly are both in cages, it’s just that Melanie’s is more luxurious. Sounds mysterious? Well, it isn't. It's just that the plot is one thing if you read it with the expectation that everything in the book happens just as it is described. If, however, you begin to doubt the narrator, you may start to wonder what is really going on.

This book was written in 1953 and was classed as a horror book. The sparse narrative certainly helps to make it that way, although today’s more sophisticated readers (in terms of there is little that hasn’t been written about these days) would find this a much tamer read. It wasn’t scary so much as eery for me but the ending certianly woke me up. Curved or Straight Design: Antique chaises can have either curved or straight designs, depending on the style and period they represent. Curved chaises typically feature a contoured shape that conforms to the natural curves of the body, while straight chaises have a more linear and streamlined appearance. Wow. What a weird novella. I read this for the first time on June 15, 2001. A GR friend had told me that another book of hers was excellent (To Bed with Grand Music) so I thought I would read this again, and then read the book recommended to me. Of all the books in the Persephone catalogue this is the one I've been looking forward to reading the most. Maybe it was the word 'Victorian' that appealed to me (I'm slightly obsessed with the Victorian period) or maybe it's just that it has sounded so fascinating in every review I've read. I've seen this book described as a horror story - 'a little jewel of horror'. For me, though, it wasn't so much frightening as unsettling and creepy. However, I really enjoyed the conjectures that this question of whether "here" is "here" or whether "here" is really "there" allows. In fact, by the end of the book I could not help but draw parallels to one of my all-time favourite novels A Tale for the Time Being, only of course that Marghanita Laski published The Victorian Chaise-longue in 1953, 60 years before Ozeki's book. Do I think that Ozeki borrowed from Laski? Absolutely not.

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I will not reveal anything else about the plot (and the above is pretty much revealed on all general descriptions of the book), other than that the plot takes on a different shape depending on how you approach it. As Melanie realises that she is trapped, effectively imprisoned in the body of a dying woman, she begins to doubt various ‘truths’ about her existence – more specifically, her identity, her sanity, and perhaps most troubling of all, her ability to return to the life she once knew. While I loved the book for its content and delivery, there were a few quibbles I had with the writing, which seemed to jump about a bit (But then, this may have been a way to show the MC's state of mind.) and with one element that left me puzzled - had the treatment of TB in the late 1940s/early 1950s really not moved on from the 1920s? Récamier: a récamier has two raised ends, and nothing on the long sides. It is sometimes associated with French Empire (neo-classical) style. It is named after French society hostess Madame Récamier (1777–1849), who posed elegantly on a couch of this kind for a portrait, painted in 1800 by Jacques-Louis David. The shape of the récamier is similar to a traditional lit bateau (boat bed) but made for the drawing room, not the bedroom.

Increasingly, Melanie questions her sanity, as her thoughts and words seem to become less and less her own, with "no control over the words that came... they were alien words and phrases, yet no more deliberately chosen than any words one ordinarily chooses."The mystery seems to be centred on a curious Victorian chaise-longue, with a stain in a place suggestive of sex or death (or both perhaps). Anyway, thank goodness she didn't buy the Jacobean cradle from the odd antique shop that she had never been in before. Gentrifiers - they were probably asking for it any how. It opens with a bald fear of death: firstly from a quotation of TS Eliot, "I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me", and then the opening sentence of the book itself, "Will you give me your word of honour... that I'm not going to die?" (Eliot may have been echoing Cranmer’s “In the midst of life we are in death”, translated from the Latin, “ Media vita in morte sumus” for the burial service in the Anglican Book of Common Prayer.)

Yes I did like it. It’s not a book I would fall in love with, but it’s a fascinating and strange little book. This was the second book I read that was published by Persephone. They publish books from the early 20th century that were written by female authors and have gone out of print or have been forgotten. I find the books they publish interesting so far and want to continue to discover their hidden gems.

Functional and Decorative: Antique chaises are not only functional for relaxation but also serve as decorative elements in a space. They can add a touch of luxury, character, and charm to a room, becoming a statement piece that enhances the overall ambiance.

Méridienne:You’re probably most familiar with the méridienne style of chaise longue. a méridienne has a high head-rest, and a lower foot-rest, joined by a sloping piece. Whether or not they have anything at the foot end, méridiennes are asymmetrical day-beds. They were popular in the grand houses of France in the early 19th century. Its name is from its typical use: rest in the middle of the day, when the sun is near the meridian. Is it a nightmare, time travel, madness or altered state, or (as she eventually wonders), some sort of test from Fate, Providence, or God? Timeless Appeal: Antique chaises have a timeless appeal that transcends changing design trends. They embody elegance and sophistication, making them suitable for both traditional and contemporary interior styles. El éxtasis siempre me pareció sospechoso, dijo. Sabía que era maligno, le dije a Guy; bueno, no con tanta seguridad, pero lo sospechaba, se lo pregunté a él. Fue la primera vez que nos acostamos; no, no la primera vez, no es así, admitió ella, sino la segunda, y recordó la desvencijada cama con baldaquín del hotel que quedaba en Forest of Dean. Y después, fue como regresar de la muerte a la vida, y le dije a Guy: No puede ser lo correcto, no puede ser que estemos hechos para sentir semejante felicidad, y él estaba casi dormido y se rió, y dijo que en el fondo yo era una puritana. Y le pregunté si a la gente religiosa le parecía bien sentir éxtasis a través de Dios, y él dijo que sí, que esa era la única manera que les parecía que estaba bien. Después se durmió, y afuera amanecía gris y lluvioso, y me acordé de la vez en que tenía dieciséis años y caminaba por South Adley Street y entré en una capilla. Adentro no había nadie y sonaba el órgano. Me senté y mi mente se inundó de Dios, se unió a Dios en éxtasis, y también esa vez regresar fue como regresar a la vida, exactamente igual que cuando me acosté con Guy, el mismo idéntico éxtasis, viniera de un hombre o de Dios. Dijo: Quizás Milly Baines murió aquí. Entonces, sin duda Milly Baines está muerta, dijo sin emoción, Milly y Adelaide y Lizzie, todas muertas y podridas hace rato. Este cuerpo que habito debe haberse podrido inmundamente, esta funda de almohada debe de ser un pedazo de trapo, esta colcha debe de estar apolillada, crujiente y pegajosa por los huevos de las polillas, cayéndose a pedazos mugrientos. Todo está muerto y podrido, el jugo de cebada contaminado, el camisón raído y tirado, estas manos, este cuerpo entero pestilente, podrido, muerto. Se estremeció y supo que se estremecía en un cuerpo muerto hacía mucho tiempo. Se le puso la piel de gallina, y era una piel que se había puesto verde y licuefacta y se había convertido en polvo húmedo junto con la húmeda madera pútrida del ataúd.For a much shorter, less mysterious take on a similar situation, see the 1890 classic, The Yellow Wall-Paper. My review, HERE, includes a link to a free version on Project Gutenberg.