Having enjoyed Jessie Burton’s first novel, The Miniaturist, I was happy enough to pick up her next, The Confession, when I saw it. However, maybe it was my enjoyment of the period she invoked in The Miniaturist – 1680s Amsterdam – which I liked, because Burton’s writing style is really nothing to write home about. It is pleasant enough and does not get in the way of the storyline, but it’s fairly pedestrian.
The Confession is structured in alternating time periods of 1980s and 2017. In the earlier period, the protagonist is Elise Morceau, where the 20-year old is supposedly outstandingly attractive, who from 10 years old had been spoken of as one who was going to be a ‘heartbreaker’, and who is currently a model for artists. The novel begins with her accidental meeting of a famous novelist, Constance Holden, on Hampstead Heath, and the two falling in love. The 2017 time period’s protagonist is Rose, Elise’s daughter who is also in her early 20s, so the two protagonists, though mother and daughter, are actually about the same age in the novel. Rose was brought up by her father, and never knew her mother. The mystery of who her mother was and perhaps is, and where she may be now, haunts Rose. So when her father finally imparts the crumb of knowledge that her missing-mystery mother used to be very close to Constance Holden, Rose inveigles herself into Constance’s house and employment under false pretences, to find out what she can.
Connie is described in detail,
Connie’s lovely neck […] her hair the colour of a fox’s pelt, the scoop of her shirt revealing a pattern of freckles across that collarbone. Her fingers […] so slender and pale like the fingers of a maiden in a tapestry. Her cologne of citrus and smoked wood, Ger small chin that widened up into a heart-shaped face, with grey-green eyes and neat brows like the wigs of a settling dove. She was so russet and English. […]
p39
But far more interesting than her appearance, is her character – Connie is supposed to be a truly gifted writer, a celebrity, a star. Her personality is strong and confident. She seems capable of sorrow and regret, but not of fear or doubt. The problem with this writing is, Connie is mostly made known to us through telling and not showing.
The 1980s segments tell Elise’s story, which Rose is so desperate to find out about. It isn’t however an interesting story at all. A trip to LA with Connie whose novel is being made into a block buster movie, some chance events coming out of that trip, but in all, because Elise is a dull, fairly flat character, her life story is dull and fairly flat as well. It is doubtful whether, were she as plain as could be, whether any of her lovers would have ever bothered with her. She seemingly has nothing productive to contribute, but plenty of angst, petulance, and feelings of being adrift and lost. And like mother, like daughter. Apart from her obsession with her missing mother, Rose seems to have no distinctive personality at all. Rose, like Elise had done, also seems to use her friends when she needs help or a place to bunk, but otherwise, gives very little back to anyone.
The most unrealistic sequences in the novel are the quarrels between Elise and Connie, where they suddenly seem to have changed into completely different characters and fling hurtful words at each other – it had not been obvious they were the kind of people to do that from all the previous chapters. It is almost as if Burton has learnt how to write a quarrel from a book, and then transposed it into this novel, regardless of the actual characters doing the quarrelling and how out of character it might be. The elegant, eloquent, original Connie is reduced to saying things like
“With a daughter like you, she probably died of shame.” (p420)
“With a mother like yours, it’s hopeless, Rose. You’re cursed. It’s in your blood” (p421).
Connie had bever been depicted as malicious or vengeful, and the quarrel dialogue feels forced and artificial. However, Elise’ depiction as an emotional coward and a hopeless flailer, is at least consistent, even if hardly endearing.
In all fairness, the read is by no means an awful one. It is easy-reading, not as bad as chick lit, but certainly not of much literary merit. Many loose ends don’t get tied up, the character of Rose’s father seems a prop, and changes with plot-needs, seeming to have no shape of its own. The other women friends close to Rose and Elise, nothing is heard of them or where they end up, they are just props too. Even Connie’s lovers, agent, etc, who have big speaking roles in the novel, they all don’t get mentioned or drawn back into the plot, they were just props too, apparently. So in all, this book will do fine if there is nothing else to hand, the pages turn quickly and it is undemanding and easy to consume. But I doubt I will want to spend any more reading time on Burton novels.
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