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Murder Most Serene general information | review summaries | our review | links | about the author
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Our Assessment:
B+ : dark, lush, twisted portrait of a different fin de siècle See our review for fuller assessment.
From the Reviews: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review: Murder Most Serene is a portrait of late eighteenth-century Venice, the action presented: "in two tempos, passing from 1766 to 1797, as I see fit", following the great city's decline, all the way to its fall to Napoleon. The author sets the stage -- and tension -- from the beginning (and soon enough: "the narrative runs on under its own momentum, like a bobbin of thread unraveling down a slope"): There is a progression, nonetheless, in the crescendo to catastrophe, the gradual fraying of the rope predestined to break.In the years leading up to Venice's fall catastrophe has already been in the air, punctuated by signs -- real and imagined -- that would seem to portend ever-greater horrors, from warnings of an earthquake that will be greater than that of Lisbon -- a joke of Casanova's that the locals take seriously -- to the more tangible, such as the births of severely deformed children ("Never have so many monsters been brought forth"); "We might almost be in ancient Rome", someone observes. This Venice is beautful, but decadently so. Brutal, too: "People kill a great deal in this city" -- and violent, ugly deaths are also at the heart of this novel, as the narrative returns again and again to Alvise Lanzi and the successive horrible deaths of his four wives. Alvise -- "more unfathomable even than some of the characters in these English novels which are so greatly in fashion nowadays" -- is neither a Bluebeard not a tragic figure, and Murder Most Serene does not in any way follow the demands or expectations of genre-fiction: this isn't a murder-mystery. Indeed, the author eventually sums up: "there is no motive nor opportunity that may be applied equally to these various deaths" -- and in a book whose epigraph comes from the divine Marquis Wittkop turns to her master in reminding readers: And was it not Sade who told us that an effect may not necessarily require a cause ?So: no whodunnit tension or thrills here. That's not the point, or method, of Wittkop's fiction. Yet if lacking cause and effect -- or, rather, a connection between the two -- her narrative still has an undeniable power -- at times almost deafening, as when she writes and comes to: "Crescendo. Crescendo. Crescendo." Yes, Wittkop has a style quite all her own. So also, as she reminds us: Even when it seems nothing is happening, we should not conclude that nothing happens.Wittkop lingers over and draws out each horrible death, and among the most dreadful-powerful scenes is one of an autopsy (concluding coldly, simply: "Again, the doctors are thoroughly disconcerted"). Few authors can bring death -- the state of death -- to life as Wittkop can. That these scenes are unsettling is hardly surprising, but Wittkop manages to be thoroughly unsettling throughout, even in scenes that could otherwise pass for placid. Wittkop compares herself and her role as writer to that of the bunraku master in the shadows, manipulating her characters like those puppets. Like bunraku, her fiction is stylized -- and certainly theatrical. With its short, varied scenes here -- ranging from letter-excerpts to descriptions, shifting in time, place, and perspective -- Murder Most Serene is a compact yet surprisingly rich portrait of a time of decline and decadence, and of the human condition. Several times there are descriptions of how suffocating a house or room is -- "One cannot breathe in this house. The house is suffocation itself" -- and it is only books that are, or might offer a breath of air. Indeed, for Alvise: "his passion for books is his anchor and salvation". Wittkop, too, turns to the literary as anchor and salvation -- but the hold she offers is anything but reassuring or, in the traditional sense, secure; instead, she embraces and accepts death itself, and treats it on equal terms. This is dark, rich, deeply disturbing writing, conscious of its artifice and expertly manipulating that. - M.A.Orthofer, 20 November 2015 - Return to top of the page - Murder Most Serene:
- Return to top of the page - French author Gabrielle Wittkop was born in 1920 and died in 2002. - Return to top of the page -
© 2015-2021 the complete review
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