“Reading novels needs almost as much talent as writing them.’ (Anthony Powell)

/ madamebibilophile

This is the eleventh instalment in my 2024 resolution to read a book per month from Anthony Powell’s A Dance to the Music of Time sequence. Published between 1951 and 1975, and set from the early 1920s to the early 1970s, the sequence is narrated by Nicholas Jenkins, a man born into privilege and based on Powell himself.

The eleventh volume, Temporary Kings, was published in 1973 and is set towards the end of the 1950s. I can’t believe I’m at the penultimate volume!

I’m writing this as I recover from labyrinthitis; today is the first time I’ve been able to sit up after two and a half days flat on my back. So I’m not sure how much sense this post will make, but I wanted to get it written in November. Please bear with me!

Temporary Kings is set for the most part at a cultural conference in Venice in 1958, which Nick has been sent to somewhat unwillingly, by Mark Members who has organised it but can’t be bothered to go himself.

I felt a sense of slowing down, as old acquaintances arrive and new people join the dance; it is almost a series of character sketches. Given Powell’s enormous talent for incisive but never cruel summations of people in just a few lines, this made for an enjoyable read.

For example, how’s this for a description of Louis Glober, a filmmaker:

“What did not happen in public had no reality for Glober at all. In spite of the quiet manner, there was no great suggestion of interior life. What was going on inside remained there only until it could be materially expressed as soon as possible.”

I also liked the new character of Dr Brightman, an academic who:

“had made clear a determination to repudiate the faintest suspicion of spinsterish prudery that might, very mistakenly, be supposed to attach to her circumstances.”

The Widmerpools turn up trailing controversy in their wake: Kenneth has lost his seat as an MP and so given a knighthood and a seat in the Lords (sigh…) and Pamela has been embroiled in a sex scandal. I do enjoy Pamela’s relentless creation of discomfort wherever she goes:

“She had the gift of making silence as vindictive as speech.”

On returning to the UK, Nick finds the conference hard to shake off:

“The conference settled down in the mind as a kind of dream, one of those dreams laden with the stuff of real life, stopping just the right side of nightmare, yet leaving disturbing undercurrents to haunt the daytime, clogging sources of imagination – whatever those may be – causing their enigmatic flow to ooze more sluggishly than ever, periodically cease entirely.”

There is an unsettling feeling to the scenes, and sense of so much unknown among the characters which could implode at any moment. Somehow it doesn’t entirely, but I felt a creeping sense of doom alongside the belief that things will just carry on.

We also have Stringham’s suspected death in a POW camp confirmed. More than any other, that character broke my heart.

Towards the end of the novel, Nick reflects:

“One’s fifties, in principle less acceptable than one’s forties, at least confirm most worst suspicions about life, thereby disposing of an appreciable tract of vain expectation, standardised fantasy, obstructive to writing, as to living […] After passing the half-century, one unavoidable conclusion is that many things seeming incredible on starting out, are, in fact, by no means to be located in an area beyond belief.”

This is a terrible post and I’ve missed so much out! I blame my ears 😉 But I hope it’s given something of the sense of the novel.

Paula’s recent Winding Up the Week post alerted me to this wonderful article about Violet Pakenham, Anthony Powell’s wife and her role in the production of Dance. It’s also a great portrait of postwar Bohemian family life. I really recommend it and you don’t have to have read any of Powell to enjoy it.

To end, a song from 1972 but a UK hit the same year as Temporary Kings was published. I chose it from many 1973 hits because after 11 volumes, Nick still remains somewhat elusive to me as a reader:

26 thoughts on ““Reading novels needs almost as much talent as writing them.’ (Anthony Powell)”

  1. I’m so sorry to hear about your labyrinthitis – that is a horrible, debilitating condition to suffer; I hope you are soon feeling better. Thank you for taking the time and making the effort despite feeling so lousy; I had missed this month’s instalment and was hoping you were Ok.

    Once again, you have picked some excellent quotes (I do identify somewhat with the melancholy one about reaching one’s half century!) and thank you too for the very informative article about Anthony’s wife and her contribution.

    Sending my best wishes for a swift recovery.

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    • Thank you so much! It is grim but I’m hoping the worst is over now.

      So glad you enjoyed the quotes. All credit to Paula for highlighting the article, and it’s such an enjoyable insight into their lives.

      Many thanks for your kind words 🤗

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  7. I had labyrinthitis some years ago and felt awful, so you have my sympathy – and admiration for managing to produce such a review. I felt the quality fell off in the last few volumes of this sequence – but they’re still better than most fiction by his contemporaries. Two wonderfully realised monsters in Pamela and Widmerpool.

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  8. I’m so glad you’re back to, at least, sitting up; I’ve really enjoyed following your read through, it’s incredible that it’s nearly over and this line is the one that stood out for me too “She had the gift of making silence as vindictive as speech.” perfect!

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  9. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed reading your reflections on this wonderful sequence of novels. Every time, I am reminded of either a character or incident I had kind of forgotten, but your posts bring them rushing right back! (The filmmaker, Louis Glober, is a great example of this.)
    I’m so sorry to hear you’ve had labyrinthitis; it must be so disorientating!

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  11. Oh, dear. It sounds like it might also be the kind of situation which leaves you unable to read (the print) and unable to listen (the auditory processing). Yikes, for a reader, that’s a tough one for sure, even though no sickness is a good thing of course.

    It’s so hard to believe you’re eleven books in, I bet you will have a book hangover when you finish the twelfth. (Now, wouldn’t it be FUN to be flat in bed for a happy reason!)

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    • Yes, I’m improving now but I couldn’t focus for too long, And the first few days I just lay completely flat with podcasts playing!

      It will feel very strange to finish the sequence although I’m intrigued to see how he does it.

      Two days in bed through choice would be wonderful!

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