I'm reading one Virago book per month this year (2012)-- either a reread or a new read. The Gilliatt is new to me. To say her style is crisp or taut or pithy or witty is accurate, but what I liked the most about these stories are two things: one, I was constantly surprised by the characters, what they say to each other, how they interact, their hopes and fears, and I was tremendously moved by their predicaments. If I had to state a theme that runs through the stories it is of being lonely in the midst of belonging. These are characters who do much of what they say and do, perverse as it may appear to be, because they love their families or friends. Gilliatt understands how complicated motives and behaviours are, how a person can be compassionate enough to allow a behavior they dislike in a beloved friend or mate (but not without blowing of steam now and then). Occasionally the mood darkens when it is apparent that the character may not have a choice, not really. It is the prose that I liked the best, simply the way the sentences are strung together. Some quotes:

During a tour of a 'new' office building the manager blathers on about the effect of the new arrangements: There's a new vigor," said the office head.
"You'd have got the same effect if you'd cleaned up the old cloak rooms," the distinguished European woman muttered. Ed heard her; he generally caught remarks that went by other people. A sort of fatuous cheerfulness seemed to him to govern most talkers, and he had an ear for the softly mutinous."
Softly mutinous -- brilliant!

In another story an older man, a scholar in a slump, is thinking: " His mind seemed to be acting like mercury. He saw it slipping around in a pool and then dividing into drops that ran apart."

My favorite story is perhaps the first one about the robotic engineer, an Englishman (probably at Princeton or the like on a fellowship) who has a robot named FRANK, that he has programmed to do small things. His wife is in Rome on business, the housekeeper came with them to New Jersey but is homesick and he sends her back to England for a holiday from which she might or might not return, he misses his wife, he's a mess, but he's trying to keep it all together for himself and their child. In some ways FRANK is the only one he can talk to and interact with. Prescient - written in the late 60's or very early 70's.
****1/2 ( )

There is now widespread agreement that 'literary fiction' may be regarded as a particular genre, rather than a quality distinction, and it seems that main stream literary fiction shares a narrow band of characteristics, one of which must be readability and a certain mainstream cultural preference. If editors select manuscripts out of thousands, as they claim, then they must have a specific frame or muster that publishable work falls into. The recent unrest around the Man Booker prize may reflect some uneasiness about that muster, what it allows for and how it flattens or smoothens out uniqueness or literary expression.

The work of Penelope Gilliatt is characterized by a kind of quirkiness, freshness, and originality one does not find in (current) mainstream fiction. Nobody's business is a collection of nine short stories, first published in 1972. What all stories have in common is a quirky way of dealing with dialogue, thoughts, interior monologue, etc, which often shows how clumsy a tool language really is, as in the following example (p.1):

"Your mother sends you her love," he said.
"Where is it?" said Ashton.

Most of the characters are unusual people, writers, a musician, an inventor, an impresario, etc who move in an exclusive environment or upper-class, intellectual and international circles. The honesty in the dialogues is often a source for a great deal of humour. The disconnectedness in language finds a parallel in loneliness, where spouses have died or are away. Then, the language takes the form a wry, often ironic comment on situations, which are not always equally clear to all characters.

A very enjoyable read, probably not everybody's cuppa. ( )