Review : Bruno's Dream

In lieu of writing a sprawling review of Bruno’s Dream (as I am not wont to do) I would like to focus more specifically on the way in which I approached this novel; first by reading it to myself, by listening to it be read aloud to me and finally (as more of an afterthought) to reading the text aloud to another. In an age where the New York Times bestseller list is being overshadowed by Amazon Kindle’s Top Ten Audiobooks (and even worse, that Nicholas Sparks is topping both those charts, but that is completely beside the point) I’d like to use my experience with Bruno’s Dream to parse out why, when someone tells me they’ve “read” a book (and actually mean they’ve listened to it) I cannot believe that they’ve fully absorbed the material. I liken this to the dining experience – one would not say they’ve “cooked” dinner if they are going out to a restaurant, despite the fact that the meal could be roughly the same (we’ll assume “one” is a capable cook), there is a completely different experience to have the plate be brought before you and actively preparing the plate yourself. Similarly, reading to me is the act of reading, i.e. passing one’s eyes across printed words in an effort to obtain information. Although listening to the story read aloud achieves the same purpose, information consumption, there is something lost in the transmission -- the proximity to the written word, the construction of sentences, as an integral part of reading. Nevertheless, listening to a story aloud has an impressible power over the imagination to create scenes in the mind based on the action one is hearing (not to mention the fact that we owe a great deal to the ancient oral tradition in developing the storytelling design and practices we still use today – a tradition entirely worth preserving) For a writer like Murdoch, let me begin by saying, prose matters. When reading the first two thirds of her book to myself, there are countless choices she makes that I would not have noticed had I been listening to the text being read aloud. For instance, Murdoch places song lyrics intermittently throughout the beginning of the book, songs which evoke frivolity for some characters (“Our lodger’s such a nice young man, such a nice young man is he” 30) and nostalgia in others (“At the parting of the ways, You took all my happy days, And left me lonely nights” 15) These lines are italicized and provide a contrast to both the third and first person narrative styles, offering an internal reverie of the characters, a kind of drifting off as they’re reflecting in the past or simply going about their daily business. In fact, italics are heavily used by Murdoch in general and convey the stress she wishes the words to be placed particularly in dialogue scenes (e.g. “I can’t see why you’re so upset” or “To have lunch with him?”) This allows for the reader to construct the scene in their mind and, more importantly, the affect of these characters; we can tell that Miles is aghast and incredulous at Danby’s proposition of a lunch date with Lisa but not necessarily because of his resentments towards Danby (as one would assume, in that case, that the italics would be used for him instead of lunch) but because he has not regarded Lisa as a “lady who lunches” so to speak. Similarly, when Bruno corrects Danby’s use of the term “longing” when described to Miles, the word “you’re” is italicized rather than “why”, suggesting, not only that Danby should not be upset, but that Bruno himself is the one who has claim to that right. These italicized intricacies are found in abundance while reading this novel in particular and provide added identity and depth to each of the characters. The last third of the book was generously read aloud to me, most notably during the two major climaxes, the duel and the deluge. For me, these action scenes were the best sections in the novel to be read aloud, as I was able to construct the scenes in my mind and not be burdened with the words (or the temptation of glancing ahead “accidentally” to see what happens) These scenes, the force of which is derived from what the characters are doing rather than saying, retained their power as I listened to the story unfold. I cannot believe I lost any of the tension that resulted in Danby and Will stepping out at dawn to face each other, particularly when it was discovered that the pistols were indeed loaded. I did not need to maintain my composure to allow the novel to continue, I could flinch, groan, squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation and the story persisted thanks to my able bodied lector. Moreover, the frantic urgency of Adelaide, as she discovers that the flood has found her and Bruno alone in the house, is somewhat more palpable for me as I closed my eyes and imagined Bruno’s figure on the stairs screaming “Adelaide, the stamps, the stamps!” -- italics were not needed to effectively portray Bruno’s desperation, to say the least. Despite these benefits, I was obligated to go back and reread the conclusion, as there were complexities, particularly with Diana and Bruno’s resolution, which I missed originally when I was listening for a conclusion. Ultimately, I will always opt to read the book myself versus listening to it because I strive to be an active participant in the novel. In novels like Bruno’s Dream, every italicized line, every page break, even every comma, has the potential to convey something crucial about the characters and about the narrative proper. I do not wish to passively allow a reader to interpret the language of the text for me, even if that means I must restrain my winces and shudders of fear (okay, I did not really “shudder in fear” during the duel scene, but who knows? Perhaps Babbitt will have a vicious, violent sequence that would cause such a physical reaction) As a side note, I did have the opportunity to read two chapters of the text aloud to an audience. Although studies have shown that this allegedly reinforces the material comprehensively for long term memory, I found that I was too distracted by properly conveying the cadence and inflection of the text to my audience to successfully retain any of the information I was reciting in the moment. Perhaps my performance anxiety is more severe than most, but I would like to sincerely thank my reading partner for assuming the reins of this experiment and allowing me to sit back, relax and listen to the conclusion of Murdoch’s “sombre and lively meditation”