The unreliable narrator of this novel harbors a dark secret - but what is it? It's the puzzling nature of the human soul and how it is pondered in this text that renders the book so intriguing. As the story progresses, one wonders more and more what happened to "M", a 50-year-old writer, who lives remotely in the marshes with her down-to-earth, nature-loving husband Tony. She invites a famous painter who is down on his luck to join them in their second humble dwelling (that's the literal meaning of the title, but as this is Cusk, the term "second place" has many more layers), and soon enough, there are four visitors on the grounds, two directly bringing back haunting memories from the past, two mirroring M's fears and insecurities...

Fear is a big topic in this book. Rachel Cusk takes no prisoners when she evokes hallucinatory images and gothic twists that point at a trauma deeply buried in M's consciousness; M wrestles with an overwhelming sense of being treated unjustly, a sense of infuriating helplessness and invisibility as a female literary creator. While her husband Tony "didn't believe in art - he believed in people, (...), in nature", the visiting painter represents reckless creation without any consideration for others (at least at first). In an afterword, Cusk states that the story owes a debt to Lorenzo in Taos, a memoir by Mabel Dodge Luhan about the time D. H. Lawrence visited her in New Mexico, and Cusk sees "Second Place" as a tribute to Luhan's spirit.

"Second Place", much like the Outline-trilogy, is a treasure chest for readers who love labyrinths and puzzles: There is A LOT to find here, ideas, motifs, riddles, images...it's the whole extravaganza, and it's great fun to dive into it. M is the central figure and remains both closest to the reader and furthest away. She tells the whole story to the enigmatic Jeffers - and us, of course, and herein lies her key to freedom: "Language is the only thing capable of stopping the flow of time, because it exists in time, is made of time, yet it is eternal - or can be." By telling her tale, she makes us see her.

I was unbelievably pleased to receive a free copy of Second Place by Rachel Cusk from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. I'd devoured the trilogy (Outline, Transit and Kudos) when they came out so I was very eager to read this and finished it in two days (I had to work in between or I would have finished in one sitting - it's short - 128pp).

Second Place did not disappoint. It is a first rate book.

Cusk's words glide. In lesser hands, this tale would be a boring story about an unlikely bunch of strangers thrust together during lockdown, but she writes some really beautiful sentences, pontificates on some interesting themes (there is just as much to be said about what you thought you happen as about what actually did) and poses serious existential questions with grace, and ease and humour.

Second Place transcends her usual literary fiction, feminist auto-fiction boundaries and matures into something that is almost spiritual without being preachy or overtly religious.

Hers is the voice of the silenced middle-aged woman, and her mission is to make woman seen, whole, even when they cannot make themselves seen and compartmentalise themselves on auto pilot.

Her themes and motifs are: freedom (in all its forms), the shackles of middle age ennui and a detailed exploration of fate, free will and control issues.

The book opens with our protagonist M conversing with a silent, non participatory character called Jeffers*, who is used as a framing device for structuring the plot and pace. We only learn her initial-name when she starts corresponding with L and we never find out the rest of their names. All the other characters have full names.

M is recalling a time when she invited a famous artist (referred to only as L) to her home in the marshes
(I guessed maybe Norfolk Broads?) to do art. She was previously so moved by work of his that she wanted him to impart the beauty of the marshes through his work so he can see what she sees and she can see what she sees through his art. She wanted his art to speak to her again, she wanted to will it to speak to her again.

L arrives, but not according to plan. The saga unfolds against the backdrop of the Covid 19 pandemic although it is only alluded to and used as a vehicle for progressing/forcing the action. It does not take centre stage.

With the L and the devil incarnations, I suspected L was Lucifer (because of the religious overtones) but it turns out to be an homage to Mabel Dodge Luhan's 1932 memoir of the time when D. H. Lawrence came to stay with her in Taos, New Mexico, ten years earlier in 1922. Cusk's account is set almost 100 years later. Although the same type of strained and sometimes tense visit is evoked, and it's very atmospheric, there is some departure in this version. L does not encourage M to be creative in any way (he cannot bear to be around her) yet D.H Lawrence did encourage Luhan to write and reveal her creative spirit which resulted in Lorenzo in Taos.

M and Luhan both were both patrons of the art (although M is fictional) who surrounded themselves with art in nature and the arts and culture. They regularly invited artists to their home to revel in the natural beauty and to be inspired by it.

In Cusk's version – in which the Lawrence figure is a painter, not a writer but still an artist - it chronicles the transaction between a patron of the arts and the willing, yet not always grateful parasitic artist.

*Jeffers, although it's not mentioned in the book, was a contemporary and friend of D.H Lawrence's and a poet
in his own right, Robinson Jeffers. He was also invited to Luhan's place, the first place, but seemingly not to M's place, the second place. (This is conjecture on my part).

Jeffers may have been the better house guest. Like M, Jeffers idolised solitude, and writing about the difficulty and beauty of nature. Like Jeffers, M frequently quoted from classical literature. His poetry existed beyond the confines of poetic structure, mirroring her struggles with what freedom means in practise.

Second Place is an interesting title because of the predating account set in Mexico and the implications of being somewhat inferior, second best, a consolation prize and indeed L does turn down the initial offer to come and visit one summer due to getting a better offer.

"I decided to go someplace else. Someone I know has an island. It's meant to be some sort of paradise."

When he does arrive, L is physically disgusted by M, and refuses to acknowledge her as a sexual being or as an equal. or sit anywhere near her. As a result she has to constantly remind herself that she is not unattractive, that she has value, that his criticism of her can be countered by a second opinion.

The writing glides and is hypnotic; there is no other way to describe it. The reader is very much drawn into this very vivid and alive place, the marsh. M's character is not dissimilar to Elizabeth Strout's, Olive Kitteridge, in that it is a frumpy middle aged woman who is a bit set in her ways and jealous of the youth but there are also extremely funny moments that couldn't have been penned through younger mouthpieces, like when the guest criticised the bed linen or when they are subjected to a 2 hour reading of an unfinished first draft of a manuscript or the time a therapist fled from her after a chance meeting on a street.

A recurring theme is freedom, although it was slightly overdone. M percolates on and on about the meaning and essence of freedom. She's obsessed with it as a concept even though it's different for everyone and even manifests differently for all the characters in the book. Nevertheless, she cannot get enough of it, or stop telling Jeffers about it.
Tony, her husband is free, but only in a way that would not be pleasing to M.
L is free, because of the good fortune that he happened to not be born a woman, but he will never recognise this privilege, the liberty that comes with this.
M realises that a loss of control can be a type of freedom, as is being in control. M herself feels a surge of freedom, right before she does something very foolish and almost risks everything. Recklessness can feel like freedom too, it seems.

Yet somehow the freedom motif, which is so vast that it could lend itself to broader critical analyses that could spill on for several pages, somehow it doesn't get entangled with the pandemic in any way, as though this version of freedom outranked the lockdown and the restrictions.

The only explanation for not using this resource is that Jeffers, rather than stifling yawns at her rants, agreed. He believed that transcending conflict required human concerns to be de-emphasized in favour of the boundless whole. Perhaps Cusk felt the pandemic was too trivial to mention, that the little freedoms we were denied in 2020 were out of step with transcendental mores. This is in keeping Jeffers' belief that humankind is too self-centered (we are) and too indifferent to the "astonishing beauty of things", and that humans should de-centre themselves.

Perhaps Cusk wanted this to be timeless and more than a guidebook on what to do to entertain yourself and guests in a pandemic but an abstract guide to recognising what "I am here" means to different people yet departs from true transcendentalism because it does not show that humans are at their best when truly self-reliant.

This little book is immediate, arresting and very thought-provoking.

I’m judging a 2020 fiction contest. It’d be generous to call what I’m doing upon my first cursory glance—reading. I also don’t take this task lightly. As a fellow writer and lover of words and books, I took this position—in hopes of being a good literary citizen. My heart aches for all the writers who have a debut at this time. What I can share now is the thing that held my attention and got this book from the perspective pile into the read further pile.

“I once told you, Jeffers, about the time I met the devil on a train leaving Paris, and about how after that meeting, the evil that usually lies undisturbed beneath the surface of things rose up and disgorged itself over every part of life. It was like a contamination, Jeffers: it got into everything and turned it bad. I don’t think I realised how many parts of life there were, until each one of them began to release its capacity for badness. I know you’ve always known about such things, and have written about them, even when others didn’t want to hear them and found it tiresome to dwell on what was wicked and wrong. Nonetheless you carried on, building a shelter for people to use when things went wrong for them too. And go wrong they always do!” What a stunning opening. There’s a lot to unpack here but I like that about Cusk’s work the many layered ideas, that seem to unfold time in a way… makes for a pleasurable reading experience, one that makes me feel as if I’ve done something to contribute to the bank account of my inner life.

Rachel Cusk got inspiration for this fable-like novel from a real situation, but it's better not to know more than that. Her writing is eerily haunting, and her style, elliptical, but the story flows smoothly and the characters are sometimes charming sometimes exasperating. As with most of her work, I find I can't put it down, but she respects her readers and leaves a lot up to them.

4.5, rounded up.

Cusk's 'Outline' trilogy, the only other works of hers I've read, made my top reads list of 2018, and this new novel will squeak in for this year's list also. It's a dense and thought-provoking read. and would benefit, I believe from a second close reading, in order to plum all its depths (as it was, I went back and re-read the first chapter once I'd finished, in order to settle some nagging questions I had left).

Much like the trilogy, I suspect this is a work of auto-fiction, although our narrator here, known only as 'M', is not quite the same persona as Faye of the earlier works. The title alone has at least three, if not four 'meanings', and often I had to go back over passages to make sure I was gleaning what the author intended. So this is NOT a 'light read', but it certainly rewards the reader's attention, and often borders on sheer brilliance. I hope it gets as much critical and awards attention as her early works merited.

Sincere thanks to F S & G and Netgalley for the ARC, in exchange for this honest and enthusiastic review.