In his sweeping epic story about
the fictional Lillet Berne, an American orphan, international circus performer,
Parisian courtesan, Empress’ maid and lauded operatic diva, Alexander Chee
comes close to capturing the feelings of opera in novel form. For better and
for worse.
The Queen of the Night (2016) begins in 1882. A star soprano is offered a role in an
original opera, only to find that the libretto is based on the secrets of her
own early life. Who has betrayed her? Is it a trap? How can she escape her
fate?
The novel is dramatic and
sumptuously costumed. The fates of its characters play out against a backdrop
of war and political intrigue, as the plot cycles through victories and
tragedies, farfetched as they are entertaining.
 |
| Alexander Chee (1967- ) |
On the flipside, the bad bits
(whisper it!) of opera are there too—the thought that the work could have done
with a good edit, the emotional detachment you can feel from characters larger
than life who make questionable choices, even if their music brings you to
tears.
One of the strangest things about
the experience of reading the novel was that I wasn’t sure whom it was really for. Opera buffs may delight in the
cameos of characters such as Giuseppe
and Giuseppina Verdi and Pauline Viardot, but Chee also spends pages rehashing
the plots of some of the world’s most famous operas for the uninitiated. I
wanted more of Lillet’s emotions while
she was singing (something that was frequently skipped over) and less
dispassionate reporting of information. A small mistake about ballet positions
also made me questions some of the facts I was getting.
As a
heroine, Lillet is smart and strong, physically and emotionally, but the theme
of fate can make her appear passive. She’s passed from master to master, and
often used as a pawn. Adding to this is the one-note approach to sex scenes in
the novel. Lovemaking is always rushed and brutal in the world Chee has
imagined, one reason it’s hard to fathom why Lillet falls for the man she
loves, who doesn’t seem markedly different from all the others.
On the
other hand, Chee’s descriptions of jewels, gowns and settings are glittering.
Every page had a detail I enjoyed, even if, if this had been an opera, I’d have been flicking to my programme to check
the running time.
Which
novel would you like to see the Secret Victorianist read next as part of my
Neo-Victorian Voices series? Let me know—here, on Facebook, or by tweeting
@SVictorianist.
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