Alice felt a duty toward (Windermere), toward its beauty and its perfection and toward her grandmother and her mother who had loved it too. Not just the house and the grounds, she said, but the history of the place. From when it was called Doubling Point, and the little farmhouse that had stood here during the Revolution with its rude dooryard and cowbells and sheep grazing out on the rocky point, and then the Gilded Age tearing everything down and putting up mansions all along the coast, and the tragedy of the original owners who had no sooner had the house built than the husband had died and left the wife with their two young children and a just-planted boxwood maze. They were in the house still, she said; could he feel them? And then they were back to that drunken night on the Point when he had been so dense (she said) and she so charming (she said) trying to get him to see and hear and smell the seventeenth century in the crooked streets and the little Quaker houses. But he could see now, couldn't he? He could hear and smell and feel now, couldn't he?The Maze at Windermere is a book that seems to diminish the more I think about it; if I had had the time to write a review a couple of days ago when I first finished it, I just might have given it four stars. But despite having closed the covers with a satisfied feeling of fullness – I had found the writing delightful and engaging – I am now left with the sense that it hadn't really added up to much; once the delight faded, I'm left thinking on the book's flaws. Still and all, this is an imaginative romp with five timelines playing out in Newport, R.I., and with author Gregory Blake Smith's efforts to examine race and class and sexuality through a shifting lens of privilege and striving in the pursuit of happiness, it's certainly swinging for the fences. Consider this three and a half stars, rounded down (which might well have been rounded up two days ago).
The aquarelle he had made of that day – and which was now hanging in the library at Windermere – had been of the breakwater where they had had their lunch. He had used a good deal of yellow ochre that the day might appear golden, the breakwater jutting into the star-spangled water, and two figures – a man and a woman – out at the very end of the jetty, seated facing away from the viewer, the silver surf threatening to souse them, the distance and their postures making it impossible for the casual viewer to identify them – they were merely an emblematic couple – but that of course was the beauty of the gesture: she knew who it was who sat there in intimacy, in the exquisite gold of the moment.The book opens in 2011 with a newly retired tennis pro who is giving lessons in Newport as he decides his future. The previous summer this Sandy Alison had crossed paths with the owners of the famous estate of Windermere, and as the current season progresses, he allows himself to be drawn into their world once more. The story then rewinds to the year 1896 – to the Gilded Age in which Windermere was first built – and this plotline focusses on Franklin Drexel; a society bon vivant and lapdog; an aging interloper to the world of the “400” who endeavors to ensnare a rich widow in order to remain in their circle. Flip to 1863 and Newport is on the Union side during the Civil War and we follow a young Henry James as he observes the summer tourists as inspiration for his writing; a blossoming friendship with an outspoken young woman will both serve as the basis for Daisy Miller and force young Henry to confront his own ideas of love and stability versus art and truth. Next is the year 1778, at the height of the Revolutionary War, and as Rhode Island is occupied by British soldiers, we follow Major Ballard as he attempts to seduce the beautiful sixteen-year-old daughter of a local Jewish merchant out of spite and mischief. The final timeline is set in 1692, when the area that will become Newport is inhabited by a community of Quakers. Prudence is fifteen and newly orphaned, and as winter approaches and she finds herself solely responsible for the care of the family home and her infant sister, she will need to navigate the good intentions of others in order to build the life she wants. It is the roguish Franklin who paints the picture referred to in the above quote – a watercolour he entitles “Lovers upon the Jetty”, which he presents to the rich widow in his sights – and at some point, each of these five storylines include a couple who walk out upon the breakwater; each becoming “emblematic”, even if their particulars couldn't be more different throughout the years. And it's this sense of time and lives repeating themselves that seemed both this book's point and its weakness; for what does that really mean?
“Have you not had that sensation?” she asked after a moment. “That your life has already been lived? That everyone's life has already been lived?”The writing often feels self-aware and overt, with various characters over the years philosophising about lives repeating themselves. And specific details repeat themselves as well – a character in one timeline is wearing a green brocade gown, and so is one in the next; there are several Alices throughout the years and various timelines see mention of the phrases “the killer instinct” and abus de faiblesse (plus a dozen other examples). Prudence inherits a slave named Ashes in the 1600s (and has very forward-thinking ideas about whether or not it's hypocritical for Quakers to own other people; not that she's going to do anything about that), and in the present of 2011, the owner of Windermere allows an African-American friend named Aisha to live on the estate (and when it turns out Aisha might be manipulating the situation to her advantage, I think we're supposed to remember Ashes and think in terms of the long reach of cosmic justice and Reparations). Like, it's all so obvious what is going on: this isn't the mindbending Cloud Atlas or even, more subtly, The Hours.
I liked that Smith wrote strong women into every storyline (even if they all needed outsiders to guard their interests), and while I appreciated the inclusion of the LGBT+ experience over the years, it could feel a little forced in the end. And I have to applaud Smith's technique: I absolutely believed the differing voices in the different plotlines; I was completely swept away by the history and the evolving setting of Newport. It was this general enchantment with voice and technique that had me closing the covers of this book with satisfaction, but as with an Atlantic fog rolling over a craggy breakwater, once the atmosphere cleared, I was left dampened and cooled. Still enjoyable in the moment and worth my while.
