How to win a generation game

Funny title, lovely book: Ruth Pavey relishes a clever and moving family saga

Saturday 02 September 2000 00:00 BST
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

Idioglossia by Eleanor Bailey (Doubleday, £16.99, 380pp)

Idioglossia by Eleanor Bailey (Doubleday, £16.99, 380pp)

What sort of a title is that? No one'll know what it's about". Thus a book-buying friend, unsure whether to expect scholarship or fiction. To be clear, Idioglossia is a novel, named for a word meaning "private language". That's the short of it. The long of it is that, despite all manner of convolution (word games, codes, second sight, secrets) and a dusting of South London grit, this is high romance. Against colossal odds, such as only youthful angst can encounter, true love will triumph. Or it looks as if it will. One of Eleanor Bailey's concessions to realism is to offer possibilities, not certainties.

True love surfaces twice, once for Sarah and Alex, who are young, but also for Sarah's mother, Maggie. Further back in the four-generational chain of female characters, however, the rosy glow gives out. Great-grandmother Edie is a terrible, armour-plated old woman. She and Grace, her sorry daughter, are both beyond romance, Edie propelled by excess egotism, Grace stalled by the lack of it.

Sarah, Maggie, Grace and Edie are all alive, living in unfashionable pockets of London. Their inter-relationship makes the backbone of the story, while the past is interspersed with what happens now. In addition are the stories of the two main men, and light thrown on why Edie and Grace are as they are.

Thematically, this tissue of narratives covers familiar ground. There is the little Polish boy running away from the ghetto to escape annihilation, the young woman driven to madness, the hard lot of the single mother, the strange house with a secret, the healing balm of love, and so on. Less familiar is the quirky delight in wordplay shared by the characters, which lends a sense of the whole thing being constructed like a computer game. Yet Bailey feels for her characters; while much of the dialogue is sharply funny, there is an undertow of sympathy.

To have got all this disparate material to cohere so well into a sparkly, enjoyable whole is a real achievement. Whether one can accept everything being snugly tied up, so that four generations of life make sense and happiness is but a step away, will be a matter for the reader's own view of life.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in