Books Do Furnish a Room (1971) is the tenth of Anthony Powell's twelve-novel sequence A Dance to the Music of TimeBooks Do Furnish a Room follows straight on from the preceding trio of war volumes (The Valley of Bones (1964), The Soldier's Art (1966), and The Military Philosophers (1968)) and takes place in the immediate post-war period of 1946 and 1947. It is strange, and informative, to read an evocation of the atmosphere of post-war austerity in England, a period that doesn't appear to feature too often in literature (in contrast to the pre-War years and the war itself).As the title suggests, Books Do Furnish a Room is about publishing, and specifically the publishers, Quiggins and Craggs, including their new literary magazine Fission which Nick Jenkins joins. Plenty of pre-war characters reappear, along with a younger bohemian crowd most notably the up-and-coming novelist X. Trapnel (famously based upon a literary hero of mine Julian Maclaren-Ross). From what I know of Julian Maclaren-Ross, X. Trapnel appears to be a fairly faithful rendition of his personality, and his strengths and foibles.At the start of Books Do Furnish a Room we discover that narrator Nick Jenkins is writing a study of Robert Burton author of "The Anatomy of Melancholy", which was first published in 1621. I had never heard of Burton, or his book, but was inspired to find out more. The full title of The Anatomy of Melancholy is "The Anatomy of Melancholy, What it is: With all the Kinds, Causes, Symptomes, Prognostickes, and Several Cures of it. In Three Maine Partitions with their several Sections, Members, and Subsections. Philosophically, Medicinally, Historically, Opened and Cut Up" which I think gives a good indication of what the reader might expect. Nick Jenkins makes numerous small references to Burton throughout this volume which doubtless adds yet another layer of enjoyment for Robert Burton aficionados.After the formality of the war years, Books Do Furnish a Room contains more humour and Anthony Powell seems to consciously add in more comedy including one of the most funniest accounts of a funeral I have ever read.Pamela Flitton, who we first encounter in The Military Philosophers, continues to live up to her billing as the ultimate femme fatale and, once again, wreaks havoc. She is a wonderful literary creation. Meanwhile, our narrator, Nick Jenkins, now in middle age returns to both his university and his school in this volume which provokes reacquaintance with some old characters, and reflections on his younger self. As with previous volumes, this book is funny, wise, compelling and addictive. Taken as a whole, A Dance to the Music of Time is really something special. Now, with only two volumes left to read, my heart is heavy at the prospect of finishing this magnificent work of literature. It is one of the best things I have ever read and I will be revisiting these books again.
In this, the tenth and antepenultimate novel in Powell’s magnificent series, “A Dance to the Music of Time,” the narrator, Nick Jenkins, has returned to his writing life after the end of World War II, re-encountering old acquaintances at the University, people who have changed considerably. He comments about “the relatively high proportion of persons known pretty well at an earlier stage of life, both here and elsewhere, now dead, gone off their rocker, withdrawn into states of existence they - or I - had no wish to share…Some kind of reshuffle has to take place halfway through life…Friends, if required at all in the manner of the past, must largely be reassembled at about this milestone. The changeover might improve consistency, even quality, but certainly lost in intimacy.” He learns that the ever irrepressible Widmerpool has been elected a Member of Parliament and that his own wife Isobel’s brother, Erridge, has just died unexpectedly.In many ways, this particular novel seems to be a kind of summing up, a bringing of the reader up to date with characters from the entire series, characters that had become lost during the books dealing with Nick’s involvement in the war. Now we are learning the toll that the passing years have taken on relationships, the variety of paths that familiar friends and relatives have taken, and how the years have altered the aspirations and perspectives of them all. In many cases, we are now dealing with children and grandchildren of some of the characters in the earlier novels, each having a unique history and familial legacy to carry forward.The series as a whole deals with artistic creativity, and this particular novel delves deeply into the field of publishing, Nick for a time having a role in a group attempting to establish a new literary magazine; it was interesting to experience the roles of different personalities on the decisions made. Finally, however, one is most captivated by the continuing story of human interactions and psychological motivations, the vagaries of chance and intention, the rise and fall of individual destinies. Widmerpool remains as enigmatic as ever, a unique and strange character, while Nick himself is always the acute observer, the view of this fascinating world being through his eyes alone.
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One of the most enjoyable and - after some initial feints - straightforward novels in Powell's sequence, Books Do Furnish A Room keeps a tight focus on the literary world of post-war London, its arc defined by the brief life of left-wing magazine Fission, which the narrator (no great sympathiser) works for as its reviews editor. Fission's most notable contributors are the ever-present Widmerpool, now an MP contributing unreadable articles on economics; and the talented but impecunious novelist X Trapnel. As the novel progresses, the two men's fates twine, with narrator Nick Jenkins present at most of the crucial points.The individual novels of the Dance are at their best when they use a single character's story to frame the series' interplay of coincidence and reflection. Trapnel is a particularly well-drawn and interesting example, and so this is a particularly strong volume. It helps, too, that Pamela Widmerpool is a lot more entertaining in this book - still barely believable in her malice, but funnier, and as a force of nature and narrative she works. But, as ever, it's the side characterisations and vignettes that often truly resonate - particularly (since we're into the Winter trilogy) revisiting characters from the earliest novels and seeing what they made of themselves. Less than expected, in some cases: the opening encounter with master networker Sillery is particularly well done - presented as a man of influence and substance in volume 2, he shows up in this book as the shabby, conceited and rather pitiable creature he always was. Other old characters - like the ambitious one-time firebrand Quiggin - find some kind of settlement too. Powell's (and the narrator's) amused Tory contempt for the left shows through a little, but he's too good a novelist to rely on being mean, and there's just as much affection in this tightly drawn, evocative portrait of a literary milieu.
—Tom Ewing
Cannot fail to give five stars to the tenth instalment of Powell's magnum opus. Post-War, the civilian literary life reasserts itself, with Jenkins contributing to "Fission", a left-leaning modernist periodical, which numbers Craggs, Bagshaw, Rosie Manasch and the new MP, Kenneth Widmerpool among its backers, and Odo Stephens and the splendid sunglasses-in-winter, Death's-Head-sword-cane, bearded womanising novelist X. Trapnel amongst its contributors. The siren that is Pamela Widmerpool causes more trouble, and encounters with Sillery and Le Bas artfully yet subtly bookend one of the best episodes yet. Especially when the writing includes gems about getting older such as this: "Life becomes more and more like an examination where you have to guess the questions as well as the answers. I'd long decided there were no answers. I'm beginning to suspect there aren't really any questions either."
—Ian
It's especially fascinating to read about the post-WWII British publishing industry in this installment (Jenkins edits a new literary magazine founded by JG Quiggin and Howard Craggs--rememer them?--with backing from, among others, Widmerpool): some things aren't different a half century and a continent apart (attitudes of publishers, author dramarama, cheap wine at receptions, tension with funders), and some most certainly are (obscenity trials, ability to sabotage a project by destroying the sole manuscript copy or few copies). X. Trapnel is a fun character--the writer playing the perpetual part, replete with dark glasses, tropical attire, and a skull walking stick. Powell's writing is as engaging as ever, but I'd probably give this one 3.5 stars if I could: it relies too much on caricature and doesn't display the level of insight I've come to expect and value. As female characters move closer to center stage, Powell's shortcomings in that department become clear: women are inexplicable agents of chaos rather than thinking and feeling beings, and Pamela Widmerpool, while fun in that wish fulfillment way that femmes fatales usually are, is particularly unbelievable.
—g
