Book Review: The Price of Salt was such an enjoyable read that I'm unsure how good it was. It was so Fifties, with smoking and cocktails and hotel bars, it felt like an old Technicolor movie about New York, with stylish clothes and giant cars. But transgressive and anachronistic, (I had to keep telling myself that this was published in 1952), something like the film Far from Heaven (2002, but set in 1957). The genre is a little difficult to pinpoint. A simple tale, straight forward, a romance, a growing up story, a bit of suspense (Patricia Highsmith just can't help herself). Her writing is carefully controlled, quiet and restrained, sometimes plain as pudding, sometimes sharp as jalapeños (there is a road trip out West, after all). A woman says of her husband, "I think he picked me out like a rug for his living room, and he made a bad mistake." Much of The Price of Salt is told through interior monologue, with quotidian dialog between, but rings true at almost every step. The emotion and passion is sensitive and real. None of the characters are "easy" people: complicated, changeable, subject to moods. The characters don't communicate well, but the interior self-analysis and doubt is spot on. Seeing the growth of our protagonist is rewarding. At first the romance seems like a schoolgirl crush on a teacher younger and prettier than her mother, but then transforms. The last quarter of The Price of Salt wasn't quite as enthralling as the rest, but still a good set-up for the ending. Originally published by Highsmith under the pseudonym Claire Morgan, a film version was released as Carol in 2015. What was daring and empowering in 1952, is charming and sweet almost 70 years later. That's a good thing. [4★]
No comments:
Post a Comment