What the Hell did I just read!?!

*THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS*

(It is impossible to review a work of this magnitude without spoiling it)

Disclaimer: I am a self-confessed sceptic, I do not easily belief in things unseen. However, taking into account the number of concrete facts that I have seen disproven over the past decade or two (pronouns, human supremacy, the infallibility of the male masculine paradigm), I consider myself open-minded.

The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it.
~ Sir Terry Pratchett

Hilary Mantel was a subtle yet brave writer. She never shied away from controversial or precarious themes, but she did so with great nuance. She never underestimated her reader, she avoided closed endings, instead of tidying up threads in a neat bow, she expected her reader to read deeply, to draw conclusions based on the evidence she provided throughout the work. This is a skill for which I have always admired her, but in this novel I think it might have led to great misunderstandings of the underlying themes. The overall menacing atmosphere of this novel should provide valuable clues to what transpired, however, judging by discussions on readers forums on the web (here), it is clear that a great many readers missed the point of this novel.

Firstly, Mantel acknowledged growing up in a severely haunted home (Hughes 2003) it therefore stands to reason that this novel is above all else about the supernatural. Well, not completely. As the narrative progresses we see that this is an account of generational trauma, of severe abuse, physical, psychological, and sexual. As Mantel writes these accounts, they emerge as suppressed memories, the subtlety of which reminded me of Angel Heart, the 1987 neo-noir horror film starring Robert De Niro, Lisa Bonet and Mickey Rouke, which left me psychologically scarred and scared out of my 13-year-old mind. Like this film, Mantel’s novel does not present as something dark, threatening, or malevolent, yet as the story unfolds, the atmosphere grows increasingly darker.

Alison Hart, no relation to Angel Heart, is a medium by trade, although by some accounts a rather large medium. She is haunted by a group of truly terrible men from her past, one of which, the especially unsavoury Morris Warren, is her spirit guide. At just the opportune time Colette enters Alison’s life. Colette just left her ill-fated marriage after a pseudo-psychic encounter with her recently departed mother-in-law.

Colette acts as Alison’s business manager, biographer, friend and confidant. As Colette starts recording Alison’s recollections of her childhood, increasingly more disturbing memories start to surface. In present time Morris starts referring to his old friends, Donnie Aitkenside, Keith Capstick, MacArthur, Bob Fox, and an ever-increasing list of names all erstwhile clients of Alison’s mother, Emmeline Cheetham, a prostitute and extremely unreliable narrator. This group of men is sometimes referred to as “the friends” and sometimes as “the fiends”. Any one of these men may or may not be Alison’s father, and as the tension build she grows increasingly more desperate to identify who her father may be. Simultaneously Alison starts remembering accounts of a women named Gloria, who may or may not have been dismembered, and who may or may not have been a ghostly presence only Alison’s mother could see. At the same time, Alison recalls her first spirit guide, the kindly Mrs. McGibbet, who is searching for her lost son Brendan. At the time Alison did not realise that Mrs. McGibbet was deceased and later realised that she must have been chased off by Morris. A subtle connection between the f(r)iends, and the fate of both Gloria and Brendan is later revealed. A horrific list of physical and sexual abuses perpetrated by the fiends against Alison emerge, as well as a rather shocking retaliation.

Over a seven-year period, Colette grows increasingly disillusioned by her connection to Alison. Initially Alison promised Colette that a man will enter her life, the man’s name will start with the letter “M”. We are told fairly early that Colette was called “Monster” at school. She contrasts starkly with Alison in size and demeanour, Colette is thin, stringy, beige. In one online forum someone asks: But what is up with Colette!? She is so mean to Alison, calling her fat to her face ect... I am not sure what possessed Alison to hire her. It seemed very spur of the moment. Why her? (Tapatalk.com)

Indeed, as the novel progress, Colette grows increasingly meaner and more unlikable. There is a casual mention of vampires about halfway through the novel, which made me wonder if, perhaps Colette was and emotional variant of these monsters. Unable to fully experience her own emotions or manifest her own psychic powers she hangs around on the edges drinking in the experiences of others. In retrospect, this may be a sign of exceptional excellent writing on the part of Mantel, she paints Colette in such convincingly sharper tones, as to make us forget about the extreme kindness Colette showed toward Alison at the start of their relationship. For a great period of time Colette cared deeply for Alison, but familiarity breeds contempt, or perhaps something more sinister is at play here?

At the end of the novel, we are briefly reminded of Colette’s kindness, when Alison grabs the raspberry-coloured mohair throw Colette gifted her, but now it is too late, the narrative gallops toward a revelatory end. By now, Alison is fully aware of her familial identity, the reader, as yet is not. This final revelation is revealed by a process of elimination amongst the fiends. Alison’s father is Nick. THAT NICK. Satan himself. Alison the victim, the most sympathetic character in this novel, was fathered by the devil himself. This is the reason her mother’s knitting needle missed, why the abortion failed. Mantel alludes to numerous supernatural occurrences, during which Alison was sawed apart and ‘put back together again’. Was these symbolic, or did she die numerous times at the hands of the fiends? It is not impossible that despite her horrific childhood, Alison enjoyed supernatural protection, even if it was just aimed at protecting her corporeal being, because in Pikey Pete’s own words: You don t want to mess with the fambly of Nick. Because Nick he is a fambly man (447).

Alison’s gift comes from her father, from the father of lies. Which begs the question; how much of her memory was repressed? It is revealed that Alison is haunted by the men she maimed or killed. She took revenge on all of them for the years of physical and sexual abuse. The reason the smell of sulphur and matches caused her nausea, a nod to the familial connection, of course.

Colette moves back in with her ex-husband after seven years with Alison. She walks out of their business arrangement with nothing to show for it accept, well except for Morris. Colette finds Morris’ sock in Gavin’s washing machine. Alison’s prediction was perfectly accurate, the man who entered Colette’s life’s name starts with a M. Morris. How much of the turn of events was orchestrated by Alison from the start? Or did she recognise Colette as someone to take over her haunting, right of the bat?

Come to think of it, how does anything ever work in favour of the people in Alison’s life? Poor Mrs. Etchells, as well as Mart, both met an untimely end at the hands of the fiends. The longer Colette spent with Alison the more disagreeable and downright awful she became. Even the soil in the estate, the children’s play area, turned putrid. And yet Alison seems so nice, so likeable, it is a pity she had such an unconventional upbringing.

The main theme of this novel therefore is that all of us possess the potential to be inherently evil, depending on the circumstance and the company we find ourselves in. There is no such thing as a good or an evil person. There are good and evil deeds, and indeed even inherently evil people are capable of doing good deeds. Beyond Black is filled with sharp witted social commentary, from the migrant crisis to the economy, the climate crisis, homelessness, and the general discontent of Britain during the end of the previous century.

For me this novel’s greatest power lies in the way in which it invaded my subconscious. Mantell certainly succeeded in filling my open mind with all sort of fears, anxieties, repressed memories, or utter inventions of abuses suffered during childhood. I experienced many lucid dreams of encounters with people I love who have passed away. I didn’t mind these, what upset me greatly was the horrific dreams I started having once I passed the halfway point in this novel. So back to the wisdom of Sir Terry Pratchett; having an open mind is risky and should be avoided when dealing with authors who have honed the craft of subtly influencing your thoughts. For me Ishiguro also manages this, the effect often only taking root days after I have finished the novel. The last novel to affect me in such a psychological manner was Cat’s Eye by Margaret Atwood, which conjured up long forgotten memories of being bullied at school. However, this is the first time I have ever felt psychologically haunted by a novel. This is not a ghost story. I am still not convinced that Nick is real, that should he be real, he will be capable of fathering a child. What I found deeply disturbing about this novel is the notion that there is no such thing as ‘good people’.


Works Cited:
https://www.tapatalk.com/groups/bookchatcentral/beyond-black-spoilers-t791.html
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2003/may/10/featuresreviews.guardianreview18

Oh god. Where do I even begin? Lots of reviewers complained they didn't know where the book was going. Well, I didn't know either, but I thought it was a good thing. Don't you just love when you don't know where the book is going?

'Beyond Black' was going in all sorts of directions at once. It was a story about Alison, a medium, who can see and talk to ghosts and also happens to be very fat. It was a story about her obnoxious, nasty assistant cum manager (who weirdly reminded me of my very own assistant) and their very toxic friendship. It was a story of the world of professional psychics, broken childhood, and some real or metaphorical (depending on how cynical you are) ghosts haunting Alison. It was also a story about mental illness. There were so many different layers to this book, I am actually considering re-reading it (and I hardly ever do anything like that, because you know, so many books, so little time, etc.).

Be warned, this book is dark, drab, grim and depressing. People are dreary, English suburbs are bleak, even food is vapid. Redemption seems an abstract and improbable concept and we only have bits of black humour to cheer us up. Basically, it reads like a Polish book.

At the same time this book is beautiful. Mantel can write. Every paragraph is a little masterpiece.

The only thing that confused me were the abrupt changes of POV between Alison and her haughty assistant Colette.

I picked this boom up as the story sounded quite intriguing and the concept of a psychic that can really see ghosts and spirits was a good one. Its not a fast paced story, but it has a lot of depth and some excellent characters from the plump Alison, the dry strict Colette and of course the obnoxious spirits that follow Alison about reminding her of the past.

Gruesome. Good. Courageous and ordinary and bad characters.