Regular readers may be aware of my fondness for Patricia Highsmith’s particular brand of domestic noir. Last year I read and loved Deep Water (1957), a novel which plays with readers’ responses towards an outwardly respectable man who secretly harbours psychopathic tendencies. It remains one of the highlights of my 2017 year in reading.
Highsmith’s interest in decency and morality comes to the fore again The Cry of the Owl (published a few years later in 1962), a book that seems to start off in traditional psychological thriller territory only to shift towards something a little more existential by the end. There is an underlying seam of bleakness here, a real sense of destruction and despair as the story edges closer to its denouement. In some ways, it reminded me a little of some of Georges Simenon’s work – his hard/psychological romains durs as opposed to his Maigret books. Either way, it’s an excellent book.
Owl centres on Robert Forester, a twenty-nine-year-old man who has recently moved to a small town in Pennsylvania to escape the clutches of his venomous former partner, Nickie, a woman who continues to harangue him on the phone out of sheer malice. In spite of finding a decent job in the local aeronautics business, Robert has been battling loneliness and depression for some months – to the extent that he has slipped into the rather odd habit of watching an unknown young woman as she goes about her business at home.
As the book opens, we find Robert observing the girl, Jenny, through her kitchen window as she lays the table and prepares an evening meal for two. While at first sight this situation may appear very creepy, Robert is not a stereotypical Peeping Tom. There is nothing sexual about his attraction to the girl; instead, he is merely seeking solace and comfort by watching her running through her domestic routine. It’s as if this picture of normality is giving Robert some kind of hope, a sense of grounding and purpose that he longs to recapture for himself.
Even if nobody ever understood that watching a girl go calmly about her household routine made him feel calm also, made him see that life for some people could have a purpose and a joy, and made him almost believe he might recover that purpose and joy himself. The girl was helping him. (p.7)
Even though Robert knows he is playing a potentially dangerous game here – Jenny clearly has a boyfriend who visits regularly – he finds it difficult to refrain from watching the girl at night. All too swiftly, of course, Jenny discovers Robert; but instead of feeling fearful for her safety, Jenny invites Robert into her home as she finds herself drawn to him in some strange and inexplicable way.
Robert, for his part, feels somewhat embarrassed at being caught snooping around. Furthermore, there is a sense that getting to know the real Jenny would diminish in some way what her image has come to represent for him – a sense of calm and contentment and the absence of any kind of stress. Nevertheless, he continues to see Jenny, primarily at her rather insistent request.
With each subsequent meeting, Jenny’s attachment to Robert seems to intensify. (In an almost reciprocal act to Robert’s earlier snooping, Jenny actually follows Robert to his new home – thereby the watcher effectively becomes the watched, if only momentarily.) As it turns out, Jenny is having significant doubts about the suitability of her fiancé, Greg, whom she does not love enough to marry. Consequently, she breaks off her engagement to Greg and continues to see Robert, who appears to be drifting into a relationship with her in spite of his better judgement.
Meanwhile, the uber-possessive Greg is determined to track Robert down and warn him off Jenny, firm in the belief that he still has a chance to win her back. As he spies on Jenny and Robert at night, Greg becomes increasingly angry, his imagination running riot.
Jenny’s car was there, and so was Robert’s. She was blatantly spending nights there. This might be the seventh, the tenth, for all he knew. Lights were blazing in the house now. He imagined them laughing and talking and fixing dinner, Jenny making one of her big salads, and then – Greg couldn’t bear to imagine any more. (p. 78)
Driven by the toxic Nickie, whose malicious opinions on Robert’s unhinged state of mind add fuel to the fire, Greg launches an attack on Robert near the local river, an incident which leads to a violent struggle between the two men. In the end, Robert has to drag Greg out of the water onto the river bank where he leaves him to recover. Unfortunately for our protagonist, Greg goes missing immediately after the fight, and suspicion naturally falls on Robert – seemingly the last person to have seen Greg alive.
What follows is a veritable nightmare for Robert as his relatively ordered world comes crashing down around him. A sequence of increasingly twisted events ensues — acts which involve Robert, Jenny, Greg and Nickie – all of which leave the reader reeling from the catastrophic fallout.
At first, it is natural to think that Robert is the odd character here; after all, his fondness for spying on Jenny is a little creepy. However, it soon becomes apparent that he might be the least imbalanced character in the book. Having lost her brother at a very young age, Jenny is rather preoccupied with the idea of death, a factor that plays a significant role in her response to the terrible events that unfold for Robert.
Nickie is a very spiteful individual, prone to vindictive acts and outbursts, a characteristic typified by Robert’s memories of the complaints she unleashed on the night of their second anniversary. Her subsequent character assignations of Robert play a significant role in his downfall.
Robert remembered that he had made himself a second drink during her harangue, a good stiff one, since the wisest thing to show under the circumstances was patience, and the liquor acted as a sedative. His patience that evening had so infuriated her, in fact, that she later lurched against him, bumped herself into him in the bedroom when he was undressing for the night, saying, ‘Don’t you want to hit me, darling? Come on, hit me, Bobbie!’ Curiously, that was one of the times he’d felt least like hitting her, so he’d been able to give a quiet ‘No’ in answer. Then she called him abnormal. ‘You’ll do something violent one day. Mark my words.’ (pp. 49-50)
Then there is Greg, a man who seems hell-bent on removing Robert from the equation – not just figuratively but literally too.
In telling this story, Highsmith excels at capturing the rumours and gossip that circulate in a small-town community – the fears and suspicions that can surface as individuals in the know begin to put their own spin on events. Women like Mrs Van Vleet, Greg’s landlady and firm supporter.
She had asked if Robert was still working at Langley Aeronautics, and when he said yes, she had said, ‘It’s a wonder to me you’ve still got a job. It’s a wonder to me you can hold your head up in the community, it is indeed…. A fine young man like Greg…trifling with his girl…a fine young girl. I hear you don’t even want to marry her. I should hope not! You’re a killer – or the next thing to it! And Robert had stood there answering, ‘Yes…No,’ politely, trying to smile at it and failing, failing to get more than four consecutive words out before he was interrupted. What was the use? But he knew it took only a noisy minority like Mrs Van Vleet in a community to hang a man, literally or figuratively. (p. 124)
Ultimately though, what really makes this novel such a compelling read is the seemingly unstoppable chain of events that Robert’s relatively innocent search for solace kicks off. We are left with the sense of how powerless a man can feel when he his actions are judged and misinterpreted by the so-called upstanding citizens around him, especially when fate intervenes and plays a part in the developments.
Highly recommended, especially for lovers of dark and twisted fiction.
The Cry of the Owl is published by Vintage Books; personal copy.
I have a trio of her novels acquired from the Book People: will probably start with them some time – I loved Carol, which I know is in a different vein.
Yes, Carol is quite different from most of Highsmith’s other novels. Although having said that, it does touch on her familiar themes of desire and obsession, albeit in a different, less noirish context. I’ll be interested to hear how you get on. Which ones do you have?
Just checked: there are 5! Little Tales of Misogyny; The Glass Cell; Those Who Walk Away; A Suspension of Mercy; Edith’s Diary. Titles alone seem promising…
Oh, great. A Suspension of Mercy is very good. A little implausible towards the end, but that’s a fairly minor quibble in the scheme of things. I’ve heard that Little Tales of Misogyny is somewhat different to most of her other books – still very good, but more barbed and wicked.
Great review, Jacqui, and what an excellent line to finish on.
Thanks, Susan. I’m not sure this is for you, but it is very compelling!
It sounds like absolutely classic noir. Damaged people, damaging each other…
Highsmith really is very, very good.
Yes, it feels like one of Highsmith’s darkest novels, certainly more twisted than Ripley or Deep Water which I read last year. What I like about her is the way she plays with your sympathies, upending conventional expectations of which characters are ‘bad’ and which are ‘good’. As you have quite correctly gleaned, all of these people are deeply flawed and damaged in different ways, and their coming together makes for a toxic mix. I really think you’d like this one.
Great review as always Jacqui. Love that last line – “Highly recommended for lovers of dark and twisted fiction” – what a recommendation!
Thanks, Karen. It seemed to sum it up pretty well.
The plot sounds fantastic. It seems like it has just enough interesting turns to keep it interesting while not being sensationalist. The characters also sound compelling. I also like the idea of building nilhlism. Domestic Noir sounds like a neat genre.
It’s definitely very compelling. Plus, you never quite know how things are going to turn out until you get to the very end. I think Highsmith was probably one of the original proponents of this type of domestic noir, the darkness that lurks behind the seemingly respectable house and picket fence. From what I’ve read, she seems to have been an influence on certain contemporary writers such as Gillian Flynn.
Such a good review Jacqui. I’m a Highsmith fan but haven’t read this one – will add it to my list now for sure!
Thank you! That’s really great to hear. If you’re a Highsmith fan, then I doubt you’ll be disappointed with this. It feels like one of her best novels for sure.
Wow this does sound like a taut psychological thriller. I only began to read Highsmith last year but so enjoyed those that I’m looking forward to reading more. I have The Blunderer tbr which fits in my ACOB nicely so I will probably read it sometime before the end of the year.
Oh, I’ll be interested to hear what you think of The Blunderer – not a Highsmith I’m familiar with, so it would be good to know more. How handy that it fits with your Century of Books project, that’s a nice bonus!
I like the sound of these two books – I’ve not read any Highsmith to date. Have you ever come across The Collector by John Fowles – I think you might like it based on your musings here.
Oddly enough, I’ve never read any Fowles, although I know the broad outline of The French Lieutenant’s Woman from the Meryl Streep film. Thanks for the tip, I’ll keep it in mind.
I’ve read some Highsmith – A Suspension of Mercy and Those Who Walk Away – both great. I’m still reading the Maigrets at the moment though – I’ve just read the excellent Maigret’s First Case. There are times I feel I could easily read one a day!
Oh, I really liked A Suspension of Mercy, even if the plot did get a little implausible towards the end, It’s the one with the crime writer, isn’t it? A very clever spin on some of Highsmith’s tried and trusted themes.
I didn’t realise that you were still reading those Maigret novels, that’s very impressive! I sort of ran out of steam after the first two or three. Oh well…
A great review, Jacqui. This sounds wonderful, dark, and very twisty.
Thanks, Caroline. I think you’d like this one. It’s definitely at the more twisted end of the spectrum, especially as the story edges closer to the denouement.
The only Highsmith I have read are a few of the Ripley’s but this is very appealing.
I think you’d like this, Cathy. It feels like your type of book.
Excellent review, Jacqui. I am still yet to read Highsmith, though it’s an omission I hope to correct in the future. She seems to have an interesting insight into the darker, more twisted side of life as well as a neat sense of characterisation. No wonder her work has been turned to the movies with such effectiveness.
That’s a good point about Highsmith’s books forming the basis of several successful film adaptations. I think the quality and subtlety of her insights into the psychological motivations of various characters play a big part in that. It probably won’t surprise you to hear that this one has been turned into a film as well, no less than three times! Oddly enough, I don’t think I’ve seen any of them, but that may well change in the future now that I’ve read the book.
This DOES sound good. Like you, I enjoy the way Highsmith twists the reader’s sympathies, and she often makes us go against our own grains!
Yes, precisely – and before you know it she’s got you rooting for a psychopath…
Great review, Jacqui! I’m a huge fan of Patricia Highsmith too so I don’t need much persuasion to add another title to my wish list. This one sounds ace.
Excellent! I think there’s every chance you’ll enjoy this, Sarah. It’s deliciously barbed and twisted. I wonder how it was received at the time of publication given its exploration of potentially taboo subjects such as depression/mental illness.
I can’t believe I’ve still to read any Patricia Highsmith, especially after your glowing reviews. I’ve liked some of the film adaptations, but that doesn’t really count, does it?
Well, If you like some of the films then chances are you’ll enjoy her books! My favourites are Rene Clement’s Plein Soleil (with the ever-watchable Alain Delon) and Hitchcock’s Strangers on a Train. Apparently, Claude Chabrol made a film of this one back in the ’80s. That’s got to be worth tracking down…
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Patricia Highsmith is a writer I keep meaning to get to. It’s so interesting with writers you haven’t read but you feel like you already understand their themes and styles because their work is so much a part of popular culture. At the same time, I’m aware these impressions could be false and once you actually read the book it can be so different from how you imagined it would be. That was definitely the case for me reading Mary Shelley and Wuthering Heights for the first time earlier this year.
Anyway, I love how you describe it as moving from psychological thriller into more existential territory. Sounds like exactly my sort of thing!
Yes! I completely agree. I had a similar experience when I finally got around to reading The Hound of the Baskervilles for the first time last year. It’s interesting how our impressions are informed by films, songs, videos and other cultural references, especially as they may not be entirely representative of the original book.
Returning to the review, I think Highsmith is one of the great writers of her time, and her grasp of the psychological is particularly impressive. If you’d like to give her a go at some point, I would strongly recommend you try The Talented Mr Ripley. It’s a book that transcends the crime/thriller genre appealing to regular readers and non-readers of crime alike. I’m pretty sure Naomi (Frizbot) loved it when she read it, and you can’t get a more solid recommendation than that!
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I liked this one a lot. I just finished james Lasdun’s The Fall Guy which reminded me of Highsmith in some ways. You might like it.
Yes, I saw your review of the Lasdun this morning. Highsmith didn’t cross my mind at the time, but now you mention it I can see where you’re going with that. Anything with a touch of Highsmith has got to be worth a look.
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