From Publishers Weekly:
Images of death, decay and putrefaction, of violence, sexual perversion and thwarted escape permeate this stunning second novel, a psychological thriller by the Australian author of Lillian's Story. In a cloud of suppressed hostility, the narrator, Louise, and her professor husband Rennie come from London to Tuscany, where they are to spend the summer in a villa loaned to them by Rennie's colleague Daniel. The house turns out to be in a dangerous state of disrepair, infested by mice and threatened by the inroads of predatory nature. "The final collapse was only a matter of time," Louise says, but she is also talking about her marriage. When Daniel arrives unexpectedly to join his obnoxious, aloof children Viola and Hugo in his other villa next door, Louise's suspicions about her husband and Daniel's relationship are aroused. An almost palpable air of sexual tension, underscored by menace and mystery, suffuses the taut narrative. Grenville's ability to create surcharged imagery seems limitless: a lobster thrust in boiling water seems "to take hours to die . . . its shriek floating up in the steam"; a woman's face "had the grey papery quality of something incurable"; hundreds of clocks all "tick . . . away together, each one a mass of jittering wheels beneath the bland face"; a kitchen is stocked with "smiling curved" knives . . . "with a nick in each blade like a shark's mouth." The seething tension seems to demand a more explosive resolution than Grenville provides, but the gothic atmosphere she so deftly manipulates makes this a gripping tale.
Copyright 1987 Reed Business Information, Inc.
From Library Journal:
Rennie Dufrey is proud of his thick orange mustache and his striking wife Louise, who married him for the income and position that he will soon offer as a professor. Vaguely worried that they might not be able to stand being alone with each other, Rennie and Louise set off to spend the summer in the Italian villa that Daniel, a professor friend, has loaned them. The villa proves to be in wretched disrepair, and their only neighbors are Hugo and Viola, Daniel's strange, secretive children. Daniel finally arrives to whisk them off to his home across the valley. Soon after, Louise realizes that she had been living with a stranger: " . . . it had taken me this long to recognize my husband as a man who belonged to men, not to women." The novel's strength lies in Louise's quiet acceptance of this realization, which allows her to discover herself and to act on her discovery. Mary L. Kirk, Univ . of North Carolina at Wilmington Lib.
Copyright 1987 Reed Business Information, Inc.
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