Weak Connection

Now coming to the end of David Lodge's recent novel about H.G. Wells, A Man of Parts. Interesting and entertaining, but not in the same league as his earlier Henry James novel Author, Author. Not for this reader, anyway. The Wells book seems clumsier, somehow; much closer at times to a straightforward biography.

It could also be the case that I find myself very distant from Wells in any number of ways and, thus, can't really surrender to the narrative. Lodge is wonderfully non-judgmental regarding H.G.'s sexual life (strenuous and wide-ranging) but I find it difficult to hold back from imagining the extent of the damage he probably did to others. A sign of just how puritanical I've become in old age, I suppose.

I read quite a bit of Wells in the late 90's at the time I was teaching The History of Mr Polly for 'O' level, and it's been useful to be reminded of the range of his fiction. I loved Mr Polly - the one novel in which it all came together in a perfect manner - and the early scientific romances, with The Island of Doctor Moreau ranking as one of the most genuinely disturbing novels I've ever read. But I can't say that Lodge's book has inspired me with any great enthusiasm to read that half of the work I've never looked at, so on that simple level it's not really worked for me.

But it's been an easy, indeed effortless read - something that Lodge always provides.