“She still had room for wonder at what Maisie knew.” There are others, but they are rare: novels in which the last sentence is the most important one, not in the sense of the denouement of an exciting story (because it does not do that at all in this story), but in the sense that it offers the key to read all that has gone before. Here, Henry James himself reveals how we should view this novel: through the eyes of a little girl (Maisie) who barely understands what is happening around her, but somehow grasps what is going on, in a way that keeps on eluding us. We can see her registering everything with wide eyes and alert ears (especially the lies and hypocrisy of the adults), being very impressionable and whimsically shifting her loyalty depending on the person she has in front of her, gradually becoming aware of her ability to bend people to her will with her charms, and, like everyone else, above all seeking attention, security and love. And, yes, James described this all in such a way that, as a reader, even in the end you keep stuck with the question: what, for heaven's sake, DID she knew or understand?

Precisely because Maisie (as a child) is an unreliable narrator, James succeeds in bringing the story's constant twists and turns to a successful conclusion. In my edition there was an introduction that briefly summarizes what happens in this novel, and I must say that it immediately made me dizzy, it felt almost like a soap opera. And well, of course, it IS a soap, perhaps even an entertaining one, at least if you forget that Maisie is a child who is the victim of what we now call an acrimonious divorce.

I am not the first to see the connection with the next work James wrote next, [b:The Turn of the Screw|12948|The Turn of the Screw|Henry James|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1567172392l/12948._SY75_.jpg|990886] (1898): here too we are dealing with an unreliable narrator (albeit a somewhat older lady) who constantly misleads us. Maisie seems much more innocent, although you start to doubt that as the story progresses. In that sense, 'What Maisie Knew' is also a masterful exercise in 'turning' and keeping the reader in the dark.

But then there is James's style, and here too I unfortunately have to be unoriginal: it is so mannerist, so deliberately artificial, that it drives you crazy. I must admit that I was often frustrated by the complicated sentence structures and the pompous style. But at the same time I also see James' technical mastery in using this way of describing things: it surely adds to the sense of confusion, but the reverse side is that it often spoils the reading pleasure, at least in my case. That's why this wasn't such a succes to me as [b:The Portrait of a Lady|264|The Portrait of a Lady|Henry James|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1502148606l/264._SY75_.jpg|1434368] was.