Friday, January 31, 2020

I for Isobel by Amy Witting


I for IsobelI for Isobel by Amy Witting
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

"Am I good enough? Yes I am." This is the constant refrain Michelle Obama posited in her recent autobiography, Becoming. These words resonate when reading Amy Witting's, I for Isobel, first published in 1989. I read the version published by Text Classics in 2014 with an introduction by Charlotte Wood.

How to begin describing this book? Many reviewers have talked about the deceptively juvenile or "beginner reader" sounding title of the book. It certainly is a broad hint at the subject matter. Isobel is our heroine and the I, or examined self, is paramount in this story.

I was going to call this a coming of age story. And then I saw another reader had called it a bildungsroman which I had to go and look up on Google. Ignorance is not bliss for this little black duck. Having read the Wikipedia article, I now think Künstlerroman is a more accurate description i.e the development of an artist.

Isobel labours as a child to navigate her way through a complex, some may say tortuous, relationship with her mother. As the psychologist says, let's remember our parents were children once too and wonder what happened to poor Isobel's mother to make her the way she was, dear children. Isobel (and her mother one suspects) longs for love, to be good, to be accepted, to fit in. A Catholic education offers heavenly intercession which works for a short while but Isobel always feels an imposter. Her true awkward self blurts out when she's in society; there are many occasions when she doesn't recognise the voice that comes out of her mouth. No don't worry, she's not schizophrenic; she's just a bit of a loner. She is most at ease when reading or escaping into the world of her imagination. At one point in the novel, she hugs a book to her chest to get her through a difficult day, warding off evil and giving her the confidence she needs. We chart Isobel's course through adolescence and finally adulthood as she discovers her tribe to a degree, or, if not her tribe, at least her calling and the joy of being comfortable in her own skin.

I was intrigued by this reasonably slim volume at 181 pages and surprised how long it took me to read it. I would like to read it again but I need a sustained period of uninterrupted leisure to do so and I would want to be sure of a group of fellow readers to explore certain passages. So yes, maybe a good book club read.

There were some passages in the book which I just did not understand and found quite frustrating. The style of writing is at times so introspective that I think unless you were Isobel, you could not really understand what was going on. I did enjoy recognising parts of my own youthful experience growing up in Sydney suburbs, such as Glebe.

So who would enjoy the book? Writers. Would-be writers. Readers. Anyone who loves books, reflection, pondering on the meaning of life and psychology.

This is a book about bad mothers, boarding houses, Catholicism, poetry, self. Give it a burl and let me know your thoughts.

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