Keeping the World Away - Margaret Forster

I had this novel recommended to me by the owner of a boutique bookstore and the way she described it, I was quite enthralled and very eager to read it for myself, especially for my other self - the budding painter which I indulge in my spare time.

Unfortunately, this book really didn't live up to the hype that I had so eloquently described to me as and I would go so far as to place a disclaimer on the book for all artists; a warning as such that this novel may make you second guess your own artistic ability and god forbid, completely give up painting altogether.

Having said that though, the novel does have many highlights and perhaps a non-artist will find it less disturbing in the reading.

The style puzzled me as it begins so awkwardly and slowly that I found myself rather despising the artist of the painting in question, Gwen John.  Having read up a little on the history of the painting and Gwen John herself, it indeed seems to be the case that she was very obsessed and pathetic for a while there during the height of her affair with Auguste Rodin and the author captures this part of her perfectly.

My real gripe is the jumpy style of the narrative as we follow her path from childhood to adolescence to art college to Paris all in a concise 85 pages, sometimes skipping years without any warning.  It was almost as if the author was in a very great hurry and simply couldn't be bothered to ease the passage of time between plotlines for the reader.  In fact, I found myself more than once in those first 100 pages literally having to force myself to carry on reading as I was really struggling to find a reason to read it.

Thankfully, it gets a lot better.

After we leave the emotionally challenged artist behind us, the painting takes us on a journey through other peoples lives and this is done with a lot more thought.  These tales of the other women whose lives this painting touched, is less patchy, more complete and thorough, possibly due to the fact that we don't begin at their childhood, and I found myself enjoying the book more and more.

The awfully convenient ways that all the different characters had their lives overlapping at times felt very contrived and unnecessary but on occasion it also managed to tidy up some loose ends as you were wondering how the painting arrived at its next destination.

The painting itself at first glance is very plain and almost boring but as I found myself constantly referring back to the image on the cover, I also noticed that I gradually built up a solid appreciation of the skill and the composition and the many hidden meanings that are waiting within, if you were willing to delve a little deeper into it; just like the many characters in the book.

As I said before, it also had the not so good effect of making me doubt my own ability and has made me wonder why I continue to bother - a realisation that quite a few characters in the book also reach - but right at the end, the final character makes a statement that gave my painting back to me.  She asks the question: "Don't artists want to put more than the paint onto the canvas?"  And that for me is so true.

Painting is such a personal activity.  We literally bleed our heart and soul onto our canvas, there is so much added to a picture but left unsaid and that is the beauty of art.  There is always more to see.  And a picture can have a million different meanings for a million different people, such is its maleable nature.

In the end, this is exactly what the book teaches you, in its own way, and I was glad that this painting has also come into my life.  I feel as affected as one of the characters in the book.