A Misalliance tells the story of Blanche Vernon, a well-off London woman who is getting used to being on her own, following her husband Bertie's decision, taken a year ago when the book starts, after twenty years of marriage, to leave her for a younger woman. Bertie sounds amusingly inadequate as a respository of devotion:
"disappointingly vague about colours and tastes...[When asked what he'd had for lunch] he would appear to search painfully in the recesses of his memory. 'Meat', he would say finally. Or, 'Some sort of fish.'"
However, Blanche had believed "marriage [was] a form of higher education, the kind that other women gained at universities". With the loss of her marriage, she is left not only alone but unqualified. Consequently, as Brookner explains when introducing her:
"Blanche Vernon occupied her time most usefully in keeping feelings at bay."
To this end, Blanche drinks quite a lot of white wine in the evenings and spends a great part of her days at London's National Gallery, where:
"she did not expect art to console her - (why should it? It may be that there is no consolation) - but, like most people, she did expect it to take her out of herself, and was constantly surprised when it returned her to herself without comment".
When not at the gallery, Blanche volunteers in a hospital cafe.
It is at the hospital, after contemplating Bacchus and Ariadne at the gallery, that Blanche meets Sally who "had the smile of a true pagan" and her small step-daughter, who has been brought to be treated for her sudden refusal to speak. Blanche forms an unlikely alliance with the duo - or rather she attaches herself to them
The book's central theme seems to be that there are two kinds of people. On the one hand are the pagans like Sally Beamish and Bertie's new woman, Mousie, characterised as an "emotional thug". This group are amoral and grab what they want and live in the moment and entirely for their animal selves. On the other hand, there are those like Blanche, who don't, (which doesn't necessarily make them terribly nice: "Blanche was not a foolish woman, although she eagerly contemplated foolishness in others.")
Anita Brookner's writing is full of precision and observation - dotted with occasional sly wit. However, while reading, there were moments when the sensation of being trapped by an extremely intelligent, very intense obsessive produced a kind of claustrophobic panic in me.
Which is unfair as the book is exquisitely written and emotionally perceptive - and regularly quietly funny. Additionally, as a document of social history, A Misalliance is fascinating. Almost no one lives like the women in this book any more - Blanche has little or no concern about money and leads an orderly autonomous life, untouched by any pressure to earn a living or make a career. At the time Brookner was writing I am sure such a person was typical of the English urban upper middle classes. Indeed, my childhood was crowded with such people, including my mother and her friends - and even cousins little older than me expected such an existence. Now the areas of London that Blanche and her like once took for granted as the ones they could live in are unaffordable for anyone but the recently created breed known as the super-rich. Also, leaving aside where such people might be able to afford to live, these days the Blanches of this world can rarely manage financially at all without working - nor would they necessarily be allowed to feel comfortable about having no career - a decision to "stay at home" has begun to need justification.
The book ends enigmatically. As Blanche has already speculated "it may be that there is no consolation".
But there is always, thank heavens, reading. And Anita Brookner is, whatever the mild irritations of her manner, worth a read.
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