I just finished reading The Door last night. While I was reading it, I kept being appalled by Emerence's behaviour: her abuse of the narrator ("You're so stupid"), and especially her violence with Viola the dog, at one stage beating him with a shovel so that one of his ribs was broken. If anyone laid so much as a finger on our dog they would be out the door very quickly indeed.
But of course, with the occasional references to some of the violence of the 20th century which Hungarians endured, I realised that her world was so different from mine that the two could not be compared. It led me to do a bit of reading online about Hungary's various regimes, which was very sobering. It is good to have a reminder every now and then of how incredibly fortunate I am to have been born in such a peaceful and democratic country.
So I found the book very good indeed: painful in so many ways, and heartbreaking in how badly life can go wrong for someone old who insists on her privacy no matter what the cost.
One of those books I shall keep on thinking about long after finishing reading it, and that to me is always the sign of a fine and powerful book.
|