“One half orange plus another half orange do not make a full orange again. And that is where my story begins. An orange that did not think itself good enough for a knife, and an orange that never dreamed of turning itself into a knife. Cut and be cut, neither interested me back then.” – from The Book of Goose, p. 1
I encountered The Book of Goose via a 11/10/22 Literary Friction podcast about literary deception for which Yiyun Li was the featured guest. When Li read the book’s first two pages, I was so taken by the voice and imagery that I immediately turned off the podcast, sought out the book, and read it before finishing the podcast.
The novel tells the story of a friendship between two girls—Agnès and Fabienne—growing up in the post-WWII French countryside. Fabienne’s personality dominates, and the action centers around a book (actually, several) that Agnès transcribes from Fabienne’s imagination. Through the help of a postal clerk, the book becomes famous, and Fabienne insists Agnès take sole credit.
In a sense, the novel is as much two halves of an orange as the two girls are: one is an exploration of the meaning of authorship and chimeras of literary fame, the other a portrait of the girls’ codependent friendship, particularly the way Agnès subsumes herself in seeking validation from the oft cruel Fabienne.
Fabienne and Agnès are fascinating, if united in their essential coldness, and the portrayal of their friendship is psychologically rich and beautifully rendered. I found this half of the book utterly convincing and engrossing. When the setting shifted to an English boarding school and Fabienne receded from the action, however, I found myself longing for the two halves of the story to coalesce into a full orange, to again borrow Agnès’s metaphor. I also hoped for more about geese—they were mentioned briefly, but a full understanding of the title’s meaning eluded me.
That said, the book felt qualitatively different from anything else I’d read in the past year, which is no small thing, and I found it very much worth reading. If you like historical fiction and are intrigued by the poetic voice in the quote above, you might really enjoy it.
Ha! Your pithy, incisive style of review in this instance is literally suited to the story you've chosen to review Jules.
Not, yet, having had the pleasure of the detailed acquaintance with the story's words that you have had - first by listening to its opening and second by eyeballing the text - what you write intrigues and entices but does not quite power the title into the 'must read, soon' stratum of my reading list.
If I may dare, and actually I do, ask what is the difference between 'coldness' and 'essential coldness'? What popped up in my mind was 'inessential coldness', so while you're clarifying 'essential coldness' why not do likewise for 'inessential coldness'?
Another excellent - quick to read, trip me to pause and think in the passing moment - succinct yet genially provocative review in what for me at least is an engaging sequence of such.
Thanks Jules.