The charming, childish wife of a successful lawyer, falls asleep one afternoon on her Victorian chaise longue, recently purchased in an antique shop, and awakes in the fetid atmosphere of an ugly, over-furnished room she has never seen before. This is the story of a trip backward in time in which a nostalgia for the quaint turns into a hideous nightmare.
English journalist, radio panelist, and novelist: she also wrote literary biography, plays, and short stories.
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.
A well-known critic as well as a novelist, she wrote books on Jane Austen and George Eliot. Ecstasy (1962) explored intense experiences, and Everyday Ecstasy (1974) their social effects. Her distinctive voice was often heard on the radio on The Brains Trust and The Critics; and she submitted a large number of illustrative quotations to the Oxford English Dictionary.
An avowed atheist, she was also a keen supporter of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. Her play, The Offshore Island, is about nuclear warfare.
I read this while on the elliptical and I’m a lazy person, so that should tell you what a quick read it is. Bit of a cheat start to my 2025 challenge but, to be fair, it felt longer.
After really enjoying Laski's Little Boy Lost, I was looking forward to this early Persephone reprint. Unfortunately, The Victorian Chaise-longue is very different in both subject and style. Described as an horror, but not scary, this book is about a woman called Melanie who sits on a thrifted chaise-longue and finds herself ninety years back in time.
The style here is all a bit fever dreamy stream-of-consciousness, which is definitely not my thing. Very little actually happens as the whole setting is the chaise-longue. You might think, then, that we would focus on some character development, but I felt I knew almost nothing about Melanie as the story drew to a close.
The ending is ambiguous and, in my opinion, the book's strongest (and most Horror-esque) point. But it wasn't enough to redeem it.
A small, but perfectly formed, chilling tale of psychological horror, from a very simple premise.
The GR summary, in its entirety, says, "Tells the story of a young married woman who lies down on a chaise-longue and wakes to find herself imprisoned in the body of her alter ego ninety years before."
Is it a nightmare, time travel, madness or altered state, or (as she eventually wonders), some sort of test from Fate, Providence, or God?
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.)
It is told from the view of Melanie, a young wife and new mother in the late 1940s or early 1950s, confined to bed with a long illness. She is also confined by a patronising paternalistic doctor, and a loving but equally patronising husband. When she says she feels silly compared with his intelligence, her husband says "I like you silly" - note the lack of comma. Pampered indulgence, aided by wealth, softens these issues somewhat, but actually makes her helplessness more poignant.
One day, she nods off on the chaise-longue and finds herself almost a century earlier, on the same chaise-longue, addressed as Milly: still bed-bound, but in much humbler and less happy circumstances. And Milly's situation is somewhat mysterious.
Pain of Powerlessness and Separation
The body-swap and the consequent confusion and frustration of not being believed are obvious, but the greatest pain comes from estrangement and separation: being removed from reality, the joys, frustrations and responsibilities of normal life, being imprisoned (literally, in a sick body, in a sickroom, but also by patriarchy and societal expectation), and most of all, separation from one's child.
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."
In Melanie's world, everything is cold and clinical. She can't even visualise her son's nursery from her bedroom "from which all flavour of love and joy and delight had long since fled." Things are done efficiently, but without warmth: "The knitting had been done, swiftly and beautifully but surely not with love, by Sister Smith."
The other Laski I've read is also about the loss of a child, albeit told in very different genres, and one from a male perspective and the other from a female one: Little Boy Lost.
Contrasts
Despite some similarities, Milly's situation is in many ways the opposite of Melanie's, and the contrasts are obvious from first waking and feeling "not the touch of soft pink wool but harsh rough strangeness".
This only adds to Melanie's confusion as she tries to make sense of her situation: the unknown, combined with eerie familiarity. "There came a new dread, or an old fear long known and endured."
Sanity
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."
Without full control of her own mind, and being told she is not who she thinks she is, Melanie's sense of identity is even more lost than when she was just a helpless patient.
Mystery
Ultimately, it becomes a mystery for Melanie and the reader.
What would you do, and how would you plan any sort of release or escape, what sort of risks and paradoxes are involved?
Quotes
* "Cunning as a cartload of monkeys if ever she needed to be."
* "The delighted chaos of sleep."
* "The nightmarish voice that binds the limbs in dreadful paralysis while the danger creeps and creeps and at last will leap."
* "The overmantel, which carried so many small objects that she had only a confused impression of worthless trash."
* "Fear was like sea-sickness, it came in great waves, a thunderous beat that drummed in the stomach and made the whole body vibrate."
* When, in the "other" body, she asks about the chaise-longue, "it was told to a listener who knew its background, and to Melanie it must be like a story overheard in a teashop, words with meaning, but no shape".
A Similar Story
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.
Image source for invalid on chaise longue: http://blog.wellcomelibrary.org/2016/...["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>
A horror-fantasy-science fiction story from 1953, unsettling and creepy. Grimly effective. A woman travels back through time to 1864, this turns out to be much less fun than you might imagine. She finds that she is not in her own body. She does not know who she is, where she is or when she is (someone helpfully tells her the date), but she knows some things that the person whose body she is in knew (or knows). She struggles to express herself and seems to have no way of explaining her predicament.
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.
Disturbingly the two lives seem to rhyme in a way that suggests the horror is more about the position of women in the 1950s and the 1860s, the chaise-longue and its stains might represent rebellion and constriction. On a midday walk in the mild winter sun this story popped back into my head. I saw a contrast with H.G. Wells The Time Machine, there man is active, mechanical and inquisitive, he journeys through time and encounters problems. The Victorian chaise-longue could be read as a response: women is passive and acquisitorial, she travels through time and encounters problems, I liked this thought for a few paces, then I recalled it was written in the 1950s, still in the era of Freud who famously encouraged people to lie back on a couch - a vehicle which is quite similar to a chaise-longue - and to travel back through time by exploring their unconsciousnesses, where frequently they encountered sex and death, just as our heroine does here. Finally it strikes me that this is a story which is all the more effective for explaining so little . A creepy tale and a quick read.
Perhaps more interesting than satisfying, Marghanita Laski’s novella was written in the early 1950s. It opens in Laski’s present where Melanie, a new mother, is recovering from tuberculosis. She’s confined to her bedroom, looked after by her family doctor, husband Guy and household staff, so she’s overjoyed to be told she’s finally well enough to go downstairs, where she elects to rest on a piece of antique furniture, a Victorian chaise-longue. Once installed, she falls asleep but wakes up in 1864, still with TB but no longer married and no longer recognised as Melanie, she’s somehow switched places with Milly, a woman on the brink of death. The only constant is the chaise-longue.
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.
Both women’s lives, their everyday possibilities, are represented as subject to the decisions of others, doctors and relatives, and further constrained by their respective societies. Melanie as a 1950s woman appears to have some level of control, but she’s often infantilised by those around her, and much of her behaviour is dictated by the men in her life who, Laski suggests, are nice to her mainly because they find her suitably appealing - her blonde, delicate appearance fits with prevailing feminine ideals. Even Melanie’s strong feelings of sexual desire are restricted by her sense of who her husband needs her to be or how he requires her to respond. Milly is also overwhelmed by sensations of physical desire but hers are further limited because she’s unmarried in an era in which mainstream religion and social convention automatically linked sexually-active, single women with sin and disgrace.
Apart from commenting on women’s status in different eras, Laski also pokes fun at the aspirations of middle-class couples like Melanie and Guy, consumers whose tastes are dictated by contemporary trends. They may collect antiques but they’ve no real understanding of the history behind them or, as Melanie later realises when stranded in the past, of history itself. Laski who wrote about Victorian fiction plays with themes from nineteenth-century literature, and echoes of past texts like The Yellow Wallpaper pervade her story. She was a staunch atheist but also fascinated by experiences of so-called “ecstasy” – the kind that might lead fervent believers to speak in tongues – and later published studies of ecstasy as a religious and secular phenomenon. Ecstasy has a pivotal role in her narrative, somehow connected to Melanie’s time shifting, possibly enabled by childbirth. But Laski also brings in issues around belief, identity, and sense of self: as Melanie struggles to work out who she is and what, if anything, might confirm that she’s Melanie not fragile Milly. It’s a compelling piece and there are some powerful scenes, particularly in the later stages but it sometimes reads like an exercise in writing rather than fully-realised fiction, and I couldn’t decide if the abrupt ending was intriguing or frustrating.
A fairly weird novella from the 1950s. Melanie, a young woman in early 50s London, visits an antique shop where she feels strangely drawn to an ugly Victorian chaise-longue. “…there was only her body’s need to lie on the Victorian chaise-longue, that, and an overwhelming assurance, or was it a memory, of another body that painfully crushed hers into the berlin-wool.”
She buys it but the next day is confined to bed after being diagnosed with TB. Months later she is allowed “a change in scenery” and moves to another room to lie on the chaise-longue. She goes to sleep and awakes to find herself in 1864 and in the body of a young woman called Millie, also ill with TB. There are a number of other similarities between Millie and Melanie. What is this mysterious connection between them? Also what has happened to Millie’s mind? Has that now been transported to the 1950s? How can Melanie get back to her own time?
Melanie’s situation leads her to think about the subjects of death and life after death.
“Milly Baines must surely be dead now, she said blankly…This body I am in, it must have rotted filthily, this pillowcase must be a tatter of rag, the coverlet corrupt with moth, crisp and sticky with matted moths’ eggs, falling away into dirty crumbling scraps. It’s all dead and rotten, the barley-water tainted, the nightgown threadbare and thrown away, these hands, all this body stinking, rotten, dead.”
Is 1950s Melanie some sort of reincarnation of Millie? This is perhaps a surprising theme for the author, who was apparently an avowed atheist.
It seemed to me that female sexual desire was a theme of this novel as well - how the expression of that was constrained even in Melanie’s time, and even more so in Millie’s. Melanie thinks back to when she had pre-marital sex with Guy, who later becomes her husband. She recalls it as a mixture of ecstasy and guilt. “I said to Guy, it can’t be right, we can’t be meant to endure such bliss, and he was nearly asleep, and he laughed and said I was a puritan at heart.”
One of Millie’s visitors is a young man called Gilbert, and on seeing him Millie/Melanie feels an intense physical longing. It’s clear that Millie and Gilbert were secret lovers and his was the body that “painfully crushed” Millie’s.
My Kindle Edition contained a short preface by P.D. James, where she describes the novel as “terrifying”. Personally I didn’t have that reaction. “Slightly creepy”, is probably as far as I would go in describing this. Nevertheless, I enjoyed reading The Victorian Chaise-Longue.
If you are thinking of reading the book, then it’s worth me mentioning that my Kindle edition ran to 84 pages, 6 of which were taken up with the Preface. The Kindle version cost £8.00, but the paperback was advertised on Amazon’s UK site for £13.75. I thought that was a bit pricey for such a short novel.
What would you do if you take a nap and wake up to different time, different people and different you? This is exactly what this book is about, and it's very creepy :) Melanie is ill, and decides to take a nap on the victorian chaise-lounge she bought a while ago. However, when she wakes up, she's back in time. She's scared and tries to find a way to go back.
It was an interesting, little horror book to read. It made me tensed sometimes, and I enjoyed my time.
I would recommend for a little escape if you're looking for a thrilling read.
I cannot tell you enough how much my family and I enjoyed the PBS series The 1900 House. It's hard not to romanticize the Victorian era, so when a modern London family is given the opportunity to go back in time, and live in a remodeled home according to the customs of the era, they jump at the opportunity. Shoot, I'm sure I would have also, except that as the show went on, one realizes that modern advances in technology, science, and society have made life so much easier now.
The Victorian Chaise-Longue is a wonderful time travel novel that has quite a few horror elements. Melanie is newly married and has just given birth to a child. Due to health issues, she's been confined to bed since her pregnancy in present day (1953, the time the book was published). Upon being moved to another room in the house for a change of pace, she is laid to rest on a Victorian chaise-longue that she purchased at an antique shop. Upon waking from a nap, she soon realizes that she's trapped in another woman's body...in a bygone era. Is she just having a nightmare, or this a form of reincarnation? The scary conclusion left more questions unanswered than anything else.
I loved the way Laski wrote. Her descriptions of everything, right down to the curtain fabric and wallpaper, really painted a lovely picture of two bygone eras. I'm so glad that her work is being reprinted. The introduction by P.D. James also shed some light on Laski's other work outside of writing, including journalism. She sounded like a very interesting woman!
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.
I gave it a B+ 20 years ago...I would give it a C or a C+ this go-around. A woman in the 1950s recovering from tuberculosis after recently having had a baby falls asleep in a chaise longue in their sitting room. Her husband and her had bought the chaise longue for the sitting room at a second-hand furniture store. She had never used it before. I doubt if she’ll use it again, that is, if she’s alive to use it! 😮 She had the mother of all nightmares on it. She was transported back to Victorian times…1864 to be exact.
The inner front part of the dust jacket likened this novella to Henry James’s The Turn of the Screw. I thought it was too detailed on describing rooms and furniture and such, and I was losing interest as a result. I think if it had been maybe a long short story and if it had been tightened up a bit, I would have liked it more. As it was, I felt I was experiencing the nightmare with Melanie/Millie in real time like over the course of two hours. Two hours to read the book and I was getting bored. If I could have read it in 30 minutes (a long short story with a lot of I feel unnecessary details removed) I would have been more positive to this story.
OK….2.5 stars for me…so rounded up a la the GR rating system, 3 stars. 😉
Here’s a description of a chaise longue from Wikipedia (and it has pictures of it from the olden days… https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chaise_... ): an upholstered sofa in the shape of a chair that is long enough to support the legs. • When I was a boy we had lawn furniture and there was a lawn chair that was sort of like a lazy-boy….where you could rest your legs and feet on an extension of the chair. My parents called it a chaise lounge. I guess they were right. But maybe technically it was a chaise longue.
"Will you give me your word of honour," said Melanie, "that I am not going to die?"
I love it when a book starts with a first sentence that packs a punch. With this one, we immediately know that what follows will be a story of life and death.
The Victorian Chaise-longue is a very short (99 pages) novel about a woman in the late 1940s or early 1950s that is recovering from illness and suddenly finds herself in a most precarious situation - it appears she has woken up in 1864.
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.
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.
Do I know the answer to this question. Nope.
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. The comparison merely came up because both authors seem to base their ideas on a similar question about what time really is, and how we live in time.
And both books look at people in their time, and really caught up in time and other circumstances. In Laski's novel, this leads to illustrate the state of women in society - Victorian society and that of the 1940s/50s. Is there much change?
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.
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?
I mean, Laski makes mention of penicillin, yet, no antibiotics seem to be part of the treatment and the MC herself still believes that fresh air, sunlight, and milk will provide a cure - much like prescribed in Thomas Mann's The Magic Mountain (1924). Again, this is not a real criticism of the book, just an additional question I derived from it.
I am very much looking forward to reading more by this author.
At the end of this novel, I was actually very relieved to be out of it -- not because it's not good (it's excellent, as a matter of fact) -- but rather because while I was in it, I felt as trapped and as powerless as the narrator of this story. In fact, those two words -- trapped and powerless -- are actually good concepts to use here in thinking about the novel as a whole. Now, when a book can do that to me while I'm reading it, well, it's a good one. It's extremely rare that I find a book that creates a personal reaction that actually mirrors what's happening in the story, but here it was unavoidable. Only the very best writers are able to do that, and it is something I genuinely appreciate.
For the rest of what I think about this book, I'll link to my reading journal. Sometimes for what I want to say, this little box here where I'm supposed to post my thoughts just isn't the right venue. Don't worry - there's not much in the way of spoilers there.
Bottom line - for me, an outstanding book that I found completely at random, and one I will absolutely never forget.
For a novella, these few pages pack a surprisingly strong punch.
The plot is quite simple, at first - a 1950 young woman recovering from Tuberculosis falls asleep and wakes up 90 years earlier, in the body of a stranger. Sounds intriguing. Yes. It is also extremely unsettling, evoking feelings of imprisonment, doubt, and fear to name a few.
How has this happen? Why? How can she come back to her own body and time? So many questions that Melanie tries to answer. Comparison between the two time periods is inevitable, especially regarding the place of women, and what is acceptable in one society and not in the other. Parallels abound and nothing is certain. Could this be a dream, or a previous life, or madness even?Interestingly, we never hear Melanie's thoughts in the present, the narration being in the third person. It is only when she wakes in the past that the narration shifts to first person. Why? Again many ways of understanding this. And this is what Laski is excelling at - forming layer upon layer, or rather optical lenses, each giving a fresh distortion on what is happening, leaving one bemused as to which is the real one, while the feeling of dread keeps growing.
"It could have been any conceivable period of time in which the thought that all these were strange took shape and words."
The horror elements did remind me a little of Shirley Jackson's style, quietly terrorising you with the everyday, while the story itself had echoes of John Wyndham's short story 'Consider Her Ways' (Consider Her Ways and Others), which is as chilling.
This is not an easy read, far from it, but it is a worthwhile and thought-provoking one.
PS: Marghanita Laski sounds an interesting character herself, journalist, radio panellist and novelist. If that wasn't enough, she was fascinated by words and was a prolific contributor to the Oxford English Dictionary.
2.5 Stars I seem to be in a reading slump. What I would do for a five star read right now.
I had high hopes for this but I really dislike a book that ends with more questions than answers. I'm not that clever, people! Spell it out!
This is the story of a young married, pregnant woman named Melanie in the 1950s with TB. She goes to sleep on a Victorian chaise longue and wakes up in 1864, an unmarried young woman named Millie who had incurable TB and a shameful secret. In her efforts to prove who she is, her identity becomes more and more linked to the past. Will she ever be able to return? Just who is she, really? Millie or Melanie? Is there a difference?
It's a quick read of about 120 pages, similar in style to the famous short story about the yellow wallpaper, remember that one? That also left more questions than answers and theories abounded of its true meaning. A lot of atmosphere, a lot of terrified inner questioning but no real answers.
This was an unsettling read. Melanie has been suffering from tuberculosis, now on the mend, her doctor allows her to move from her bed to the next room where she can rest on an ugly old Chaise-Longue that she bought from an Antique shop before she fell ill. She falls asleep on it and when she wakes up, she is in another woman's body, in another time, 1864. She feels more and more trapped and frightened as the story progresses, unable to figure out why she is here or how to get back.
hmmm, this is the first Marghanita Laski book I haven't really loved. Unfortunately I didn't even like it that much. The theme of the book is time travel, namely the heroine of the book Melanie goes back in time 100 years by falling asleep on her new chaise longue. It was too philosophical, too concerned with women's inferiority and so frustrating that I could barely finish it. *SPOILER AHEAD* Melanie is concerned with having TB at the beginning, and then when she travels back in time she has TB, but unlike 1950s standards (where the cure was fresh air, rest and good, healthy food) the doctor won't do anything to help her, thinking she is a lost cause. She is only a silly woman after all. I will not give up on Laski however, as "Little Boy Lost" and "To bed with Grand Music" were both 5 star reads for me, so I will seek out "The Village" regardless of my feelings towards this novella.
The first thirty pages of this short book alienated me by using the word "obedient" at least fifteen times to describe the main character. Isn't that why writers have editors? Actually, isn't that why writers skim over what they've written once or twice before they send their manuscripts to the editors? To me, the first third of this book was just fairly dreadful all around. I mostly stuck with it because reading bad writing helps me appreciate good writing that I'd otherwise take for granted.
The book improved towards the end, but it was too late. I don't think I enjoyed it as much as I did the children's book Charlotte Sometimes, which had a very similar plot but the added bonus of a theme song by the Cure (to be fair, this one came first). I think I would've appreciated The Victorian Chaise Lounge more if I'd read it as a kid. The concept was one that would've resonated more with me then, and the effective descriptive passages would've affected me more, instead of seeming overwrought. A lot of things about this book that bug me now wouldn't have bothered me at all when I was much younger.
I actually don't say this too often, but I think this his book would've benefited from a more rigorous editing process. The second half was actually quite good, and there were ideas and moments in here with great potential, but in general I found the book largely disappointing and even cringeworthy at points.
I can't find Jay's original Amazon review that made me want to read this, which is frustrating because now I really want to know why he liked it so much. I'm also pretty mystified as to why the NYT, the SF Chronicle, and the NY Herald Tribune were all so crazy about it when it came out in 1953.
This book did have some things going for it, but it also had a lot going against it.
"'Will you give me your word of honour', said Melanie, 'that I am not going to die?' The doctor said, 'It's a stupid thing to ask of me."
Damn, I almost abandoned this but somewhere midway it develops into something so Extraordinarily Interesting - a mysterious meditation on Dying - I even found it all a bit overwhelming; so many questions, so many assumptions and suppositions flooding the mind... aaaand then it's over.
I'm not even mad, I'm impressed.
"The doctor said, 'It's a stupid thing to ask of me. Of course you're going to die, and so am I, and so is Guy, and in the end even Richard is going to die. What you're really asking me is whether you're going to die soon of tuberculosis, and to that the answer is no, though I'm not giving you any word of honour about it.' "
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.
Melanie Langdon is a young mother recovering from tuberculosis in bed at her home in 1950s London. When the doctor tells her she can move to another room for a change of scenery, Melanie decides to lie on the chaise-longue in the drawing room, an ugly item of Victorian furniture she had purchased in an antique shop.
'Melanie lies on the chaise-longue and falls asleep - but when she awakens, something has changed. She's still lying on the same chaise-longue, she still has TB, but it's now the year 1864, she's being cared for her by her hostile sister Adelaide, and her name is no longer Melanie - it's Milly. Is Melanie dreaming? Remembering a previous life? Has she really travelled back in time and become somebody else?
I have to admit I'm not sure that I fully understood what was supposed to be happening in this book. After thinking about it though, maybe that was the point - the reader isn't supposed to understand because Melanie herself doesn't understand. The book conveys a sense of confusion, panic and disorientation and I could really feel Melanie's helplessness as she lay on the chaise-longue, trapped in Milly's body, desperately trying to work out who she was and how she could escape.
What makes Melanie's story so disturbing and nightmarish is that although she has apparently been transported back in time, she has kept all of her twentieth-century ideas and sensibilities. As Milly, she finds herself a victim of the repression of Victorian society and there's nothing she can do to change her situation.
At only 99 pages, this book can easily be read in an hour, but there's so much packed into those 99 pages that the story will stay in your mind for a lot longer than that.
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.
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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.
3,5 mh. irgendwie mochte ich das? Es hat viele Gedanken in mir aufgeweckt. Aber es hat mich auch verwirrt und mein Bedürfnis nach Aufklärung angeregt. Und weil es so kurz war, wurden meine Fragen natürlich nicht beantwortet.
Romanzo breve di genere gotico, Sulla chaise-longue racconta la storia della benestante Melanie, convalescente dalla tubercolosi, che appisolatasi su una chaise-longue usata ma mai utilizzata dai suoi nuovi proprietari, si ritrova imprigionata nel corpo di una ragazza malata, in un'altra vita e un'altra epoca.
La letteratura gotica mi è sempre piaciuta ma purtroppo non avevo mai sentito parlare di Marghanita Laski; dopo aver letto questo racconto sono convinta di voler addentrarmi di più nelle parole e libri dell'autrice, perchè Sulla chaise-longue mi ha molto intrigata.
Solo pochi capitoli, neanche divisi per numero, mi hanno catapultata in due vite differenti, con relative storie, segreti, amori e orrori. Non si sa molto dell'esperienza che vive Melanie, nè i motivi nè che cosa in realtà stia succedendo, ma il lettore, insieme alla ragazza tenta di raccapezzarsi e reagire in qualche modo alla scoperta scioccante.
La parte che colpisce di più, comunque, non è tanto lo scambio di corpi (che ugualmente interessante perchè Melanie si ritrova circondata da persone a dir poco inquietanti e bizzarre) ma le riflessioni ed implicazioni per ciò che sta succedendo.
Bellissima l'introspezione sul sentirsi slegati dalla propria fisicità, perchè la mente è forte ma il corpo no. Bellissima l'analisi schietta sul distacco dalla realtà, sull'incapacità di capire cos'è reale e cosa no. Meravigliose le implicazioni su più livelli riguardo l'abbandono: della vita, di un figlio, della razionalità, della forza. Il tutto contornato da situazioni angoscianti dovute al non sapere gli elementi pregressi rispetto all'arrivo di Melanie in quel corpo del passato.
Sulla chaise-longue sarà anche un romanzo breve ma è un ottimo esempio di letteratura gotica, di quelle che non manifestano l'elemento orrorifico ma lasciano che siano le parti in ombra della storia e le incertezze a fornire ansia e dubbi. Scritto magistralmente pur mantenendo uno stile semplice, ho trovato questa piccola storia una perla ben eseguita.
Mi ha lasciato addosso un leggero strato di brividi e l'eco di una domanda: cosa avrei fatto io, in quella situazione?
This is an odd and grim time-slip novel of psychological horror (perhaps that’s too strong a word, ‘despair’ perhaps?) in which the sick Melanie finds herself projected back in time and inhabiting the body of somebody somewhat similar to herself.
I notice that some reviewers have compared it to Gilmans classic story ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ and whilst it does have number of similarities (ie illness and male doctors) I didn't feel that Laski had an overtly feminist agenda in mind, as the book seemed more concerned with the individuals interior notion of self.
Much of the book is stream of consciousness as Melanie tries to make sense (or adjust) to what has happened, beginning with the obvious ‘is it a dream?’, to considerations of (if it isn’t a dream) how one might convince others that you are not who you appear to be. As the book progresses it become apparent that there are mysteries concerning the body/life our protagonist seems to be inhabiting, and the novel becomes increasingly claustrophobic as these are revealed. I felt that Laski captured the changing moods of Melanie very well as she navigated varying emotions of wonder, fear, frustration and empathy with her old and new self, whoever her ‘self’ might be. This is written in a style that epitomizes (to me at least) the beautiful precise, peculiarly ‘English’ prose of the 1950’s, which helps ground the book in its own time of writing, which I think adds to its sense of containment.
I knew nothing of Laski before reading this book, but afterwards I went to the font of Wikipedia and was told that she was educated at Oxford, wrote science fiction reviews, and a book on ecstasy. Though its easy to be wise after the fact you can sense of all these things in this novel.
Overall, this was a most satisfying novel that does not fit easily into any category and is all the better for that. Its also a short read, one evening would see you right, but it packs a greater punch than the few hours spent on it might imply. Recommended!
An intriguing little read - just 99 pages long - of a woman who lies down on a chaise-longue during a spell of poorly health, and dozes off and awakes to find herself trapped in the body of a woman 90 years previous! Sounds mad?! It is but it's the whole simplicity of the story that keeps you full of suspense as to why this is happening to her, how is she meant to escape and the questions her experience brings up in relevance to her 'now'.
Melanie - the character of now - and Millie - past - are such different people and it really was quite claustrophobic reading how Melanie tried to come to terms with this new person she was seeing the world through, taking on her thoughts and fears and her situation is a complex and horrifying one when those around her reveal too much in conversation.
The Victorian Chaise-Longue is perhaps the most enticing and intriguing synopsis of all the Persephone books. A time-slip psychological horror starring alter egos and stolen identity, this should have been right up my street. Let’s just say it is extremely chilling in its conception, but not its execution.
Granted, this is a novella, but it could have been considerably shorter. Laski’s prose is at times overwrought, focusing more on décor and lace than the complexity or nuance of her characters. Tauter writing would have elevated this work to a higher standard, rendering Melanie’s plight far more involving and compelling.
The ending is wonderfully ambiguous, if rather predictable, but ultimately too little too late. A real shame; before this one I had not read a Persephone book I actively disliked.
With The Victorian Chaise-longue, Laski wrote a body-horror* novella presaging more than one literary trend. For me, this exceeds Charlotte Perkins Gilman's "The Yellow Wall-paper," which was the closest gloss I could recall while reading. It was fascinating to read this novella after reading Susan Wise Bauer's article "Poison", and her work on historical views of sickness in general. Not one to read while sick, I'll tell you, a bit triggering for my decrepit asthmatic lungs to be honest, but a powerfully strong work of literature and not one I'll forget anytime soon! The Victorian Chaise-longue also has the distinction of being the first book I've read in full from my new-to-me university library, the first conquest of my pillaging, and shucks, isn't it terrible that my research will often take me to the section of the library that stocks oodles of Persephones.
*Spoiler for those who may be interested but want to go in with eyes open:
This is an interesting psychological story, something like a Twilight Zone episode and a lot like “The Yellow Wallpaper.” Marghanita Laski lets the narrative (almost entirely inside the thoughts of the protagonist) raise intriguing questions to linger, unanswered. There are some intriguing meditations on ecstasy, prayer, destiny, the connections between mind and body, and finding the right “pattern” to successfully reach the next phase of life. Elements from early in the story—which are (I think deliberately) almost obscured by the amount of minute detail in Laski’s descriptions—resonate with the conclusion to generate more unanswered questions about what really happened and what it all means.
On a side note, I always love getting a book from the library that has been on the library’s shelves for many, many years. Dallasites have been reading this copy of The Victorian Chaise Longue almost since it was first published.
While reading this terrifying novella, I was reminded of the tag line for several of the Jaws movies where they teased about it not being safe to go into the water. According to The Victorian Chaise-Lounge it is not safe to go back into the antiques store. A chaise longue is the vector transporting a mid-20th century British woman back to the 1860’s.
Melanie Langdon is a 50’s British woman married with a newborn. TB has left her weak and bedridden. She is getting better but only just… Marghanita Laski imparts a lot of this background via Melanie’s patriarchal and judgmental male doctor. And via his perspective one gets the sense Melanie is a flighty overly emotional woman with a questionable marriage. At the end of his visit he allows Melanie to leave her bed and nap on a Victorian Chaise-Lounge.
Awaking from her nap Melanie finds herself thrown back in time to the Victorian era. However, this is not your typical time travel saga where a plucky heroine uses with and ingenuity to address her situation. Instead a weakened bedridden woman is thrown back into a past where her options are even more limited into the body of a woman even weaker than she is, which limits her choices considerably.
There are obvious parallels here to Charlotte Perkins Gilman's The Yellow Wallpaper whereby an unwell woman is made increasingly unwell by medical authorities and the limited spheres of women. The horror is not ghosts, or things that go bump in the night, but instead the claustrophobic nature of the time and the twisty entanglements of family.
Marghanita Laski has penned a kaleidoscope of a novella that uses a time travel narrative to say much about gender, life, death and all the moments in between. And after you close the book, the horror only grows as you contemplate all that occurred, and all that Melanie did and didn’t understand.
I have long wanted to read Marghanita Laski, the British writer and broadcaster who came to prominence in the 1940s and ‘50s. (Five of her novels are currently in print with Persephone Books.) My original intention had been to start with her 1949 novel, Little Boy Lost, which focuses on a man’s search for his lost son in post-WW2 France. But then, back in December, the Backlisted team featured Laski’s 1953 novella, The Victorian Chaise-Longue, on an episode of their podcast, and the decision was made for me.
It’s a difficult book to say very much about without revealing key elements of the premise; so, if you’re thinking of reading it and would prefer to know as little as possible before going in, look away now. What I will say upfront is that the experience of reading this novella feels somewhat akin to being trapped in a terrifying COVID fever dream from times past. Ideal lockdown reading for the more sensitive among you!
The premise of this chilling story is a simple yet highly effective one. In the early 1950s, Melanie, a young mother recovering from tuberculosis, falls asleep, only to wake up in the body of her alter ego, Milly, some ninety years earlier.
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.
3,5 stars! (Goodreads, could you get on those half stars already?)
This book was so great! I loved how this is definitely a work of horror, yet it was not graphic or very disturbing. When you’re reading it, it might not even come across as scary straight away, but it really struck me after a while how terrifying the subject matter of this book is. It felt very claustrophobic, as if you, yourself, were trapped in time. I never really enjoy time travel tales, although I’ve always loved the idea of time traveling. This book really made me think about whether I would want to time travel or not. I loved how Laski played with the main characters awareness of knowledge that grows and declines throughout time, and the ending, where we are left on a very religious note, feels very special. The story is immensely subtle and quite plot-driven, so it might not be for everyone. I did not always get on with the writing style or the main character. Nevertheless, this short read is definitely worth your time (even if it were only for spending your money at the lovely ‘Persephone Books’).