Showing posts with label alter-ego. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alter-ego. Show all posts

Wednesday, 6 November 2019

Innermost thoughts: Someone Like Me


Someone Like Me by M.R. Carey
Orbit
Pp. 500

In many ways this novel by M.R. Carey reminds me of those by Stephen King. It is rooted in reality with a strong dose of pop culture. The relationships seem true and sympathetic, with natural dialogue and some elements of humour. The concept of split personalities, or multiple characters in different dimensions, is a good one, and the supernatural elements creep in subtly. It would make a great film, with strong visuals and spooky scenes, but the ending is ultimately unsatisfactory and leaves the reader (or potential viewer) wondering how on earth they are ever going to get away with telling that story to the police.
 
It begins with a sadly familiar tale of domestic violence, as Liz Kendall is being strangled by her ex-husband, Marc. It appears that has another character inside her, Beth, who comes out after years of abuse to fight back. The abuse is documented as part of an on-going case: “That was a lot less exciting and TV-movie-forensic than it sounded.” The author is aware that this is commonplace and that we have seen it all before in modern culture, so he has to make it about more than ‘just’ domestic violence.


We sympathise with Liz; she is poor with two kids to raise (Zac and Molly), an abusive ex-husband and a terrible medical insurance policy. When she is first ousted by Beth, there may be sympathy for her too, as Beth has been repeatedly killed by Marc in different times and other realms. We feel for her absence and all the things she has missed, as she hugs Molly, “It was the first human contact Beth had experienced in what felt like a hundred years that wasn’t born out of violent rage.” But Beth will then use anything to survive, even at the expense of the children, and we begin to wonder about her motives.


Meanwhile, Zac’s schoolmate, Fran, is also one of these people who is aware of the multiple options of things happening in different futures or pasts, and she recognises the duality of Zac’s mum, Liz/Beth. When she was a child, Fran was abducted and taken to the Perry Friendly Motel by a man (Bruno Picota) who saw two personalities in her and tried to kill one. Throughout the trial that led to his incarceration in an asylum, he became known as the Shadowman because he constantly referred to shadows that move independently of their host or ‘skadegamutc’ from Native American culture. He describes this (in a transcript that Fran and Zac conveniently locate) as “the ghost of a witch. A ghost, but it’s got magic. An evil spirit. And you can’t ever see where it might have come from. You just see that it’s there.”

Skadegamutc or forest witch
Fran also has an alter-ego who is a cartoon fox with a sword and armour, Lady Jinx from Knights of the Woodland Table. Fran comes to understand that Picota was obsessed with split personalities or detached characters, who have been separated from the original. He thought he had killed one of hers. Did he?

As in Fellside, M.R. Carey takes us to a world of psychologists and criminals as he explores the dark places of the mind. Is this what happens to the brain when it tries to shield the body from pain, or to remove the memories of experiences that are too traumatic to confront? Are these supernatural elements based on self-delusion, or is medication involved? There is enough ambiguity to interest the reader as the novel crosses from the solid world we know to the less certain one we fear.

Like Stephen King, Carey incorporates Native American elements, pop culture references, ‘innocent’ children involved in violent and spooky situations, cinematic and comic book devices (he used to write comics for DC including Lucifer and Hellblazer), and a denouement at a creepy, deserted motel. The genre-crossing thriller ghost story is domestic in scope with science-fiction undertones, but there are sufficient similar themes to those found in Fellside, which I read earlier this year, that I don’t think I need to read any more of Carey’s novels for a while.

Saturday, 19 July 2008

Jane Eyre



I went to see the Stagecraft production of Jane Eyre at the Gryphon Theatre last week. I was told that purists would hate it. Jane Eyre is my favourite book. I am in awe of Charlotte Bronte and think is she is one of the world's greatest writers, so naturally I went to the theatre with a touch of trepidation.

It was fantastic. I thought it was a great show with a great cast and excellent direction. There were elements of the play that I didn't like, but these are faults of Polly Teale's play itself and certainly not of the acting or direction or staging. I wrote my full review for
Lumiere but didn't want to include too many plot spoilers there, although there are things that still bother me about the play.

For example, if Bertha is Jane's alter-ego, the two times she escapes from the attic take on an extra meaning. In the first instance she attempts to kill Rochester by setting light to his bedroom - although in this version it appears that she would rather possess him first. If she is trying to kill him, does this mean that subconsiously Jane thinks he isn't right for her and wishes him dead? Or is she trying to set him up so that she can save him and appear his protector? Either way, this makes her less modest and humble than she appears throughout the play and so implies that she is devious and prepared to risk anything to get her own way.


In the second instance, she visits Jane's bedchamber and shreds her veil the night before the wedding. Is she trying to warn her subconscious self against marrying Mr Rochester? If she thinks this would be a disaster and Jane turns her back on these feelings, then it makes the supposed happy ending far less happy. Also if Jane's passionate and wilfull side has to die before she becomes Mrs Rochester, then this is a sad indictment on women who sacrifice their inner soul just to get the ring on their finger. I don't think Charlotte's Jane does this. But maybe Polly's Jane does.

Perhaps this is too deep an interpretation and the mad woman who escapes is merely Bertha Mason and not the other Jane. In which case, when does she stop being Jane and become the other woman? I don't think you can have it both ways, and it is this that doesn't make sense to me.

Having said that, I think it is a wonderful play and I really recommend that everyone who can, should go. I'd love to know your thoughts and interpretations of these events, so please let me know!