The Master

Definitly the best book of the triology. It has some Pretty Woman feeling to it. Strong girl in a bad situation, who can't believe her luck.Writing the ex-husband POV for a bit might have given an extra depth, but I think it's not Kresley Cole's style. In fact I missed the voice of the male protagonists voices in all three books.What I really enjoyed was the fast pace, good writing of a sexy relationship with lots of details and a variety of ideas, dilemma of the protagonist lasting until the end. The female protagonist Lucia (aka Cat) is witty, smart, believable and totally lovable.

Absolutely loved it Best book in the set.Its a must read

This is one of the best books I have ever read. Love this author to bits.

Indeed it is definitely kresley cole at her best, can't say am surprised though *chuckles* she's just too good

Cat was pretty much the best. I would read eleventybillion more books about her. I really enjoyed this, way more than I expected to, and I think it was her tenacity, determination, and the way the story made it very clear that she was smart and self-reliant while still playing with romance tropes. I also liked the interplay of class differences, gender disparities, and sexy romantic times. It could have been a mess, but it worked beautifully.

~ 4.5 ~

so good! I don't think i liked it as much as The Professional, but I adored Cat/Lucia, so whatevs. I just didn't find her and Maxim's love as compelling as Sevastyan and Natalie's.

Precise, polished, and perfectly understated. It is probably stunningly researched and full of clever inside jokes, too, but the prose is clean and pure. Not everyone's cup of tea.

Fun if frustrating because in a way it represents so much that is repressed [in all of us]. Also about sublimation. Venice.

I found The Master, Tóibín's biographical novel about Henry James both fascinating and occasionally tedious. Tóibín uses a selective omniscient narrator to get into James's head to seemingly reveal how his reactions, musings and reminiscences informed the crafting of his novels. In actuality, however, what Tóibín has done is used the novels (and undoubtedly biographies and critical studies) to craft his own portrait of James in this novel. Tóibín creates a psychological portrait of James that resembles the kind of psychological portrait of characters created by Henry James himself. If that sounds circular, it is, but it is intriguing.The action of the novel takes place from 1895-1899 when James was in his fifties. However we learn much about James earlier in his life as he remembers incidents and people from his younger days. The major people with whom James interacts are his siblings, William and Alice; his cousin, Minnie Temple; his friend, the novelist, Constance Fenimore Woolson; and the Scandinavian-American sculptor, Hendrik Christian Andersen. But James seems unable to form deeply intimate ties with anyone -- he needs his own space and solitude. Tóibín does not judge the Master -- he seeks to understand him.As there are many allusions to the more famous of James's novel in this book, it helps to be somewhat familar with his work.

The fictionalized biography can be a vexing thing! Often focusing on the scandalous or the trivial, sadly out of tune with its inspiration. This fictionalized account of James' life, or a part of it, is lovingly in tune and seems an even better mirror of him than the straight biographies which never seem to capture the subtleties of this most subtle of men and minds. I am in awe of the way Toibin has not only captured the man but also his time. He has a rare sensibility and understanding of the nature of this deeply conflicted author.
One of the things that most caught my attention is Toibin's awareness of James' almost peculiar anxiety for the care and tending of children. It has always struck me as odd that a man who was himself childless, did not spend much time in the company of children, and indeed, seemed to never have ever been a child himself and, finally, even as a child did not have much association with children should take such a deep and anxious interest in children. In the novel, he is keenly interested and saddened by the situation of Oscar Wilde's young sons and concerned for the well-being of a young girl named Mona who is, or it seems to his mind, being unconsciously, or maybe even actually abused by the guests at a house party in Ireland. He is concerned that the child is not properly chaperoned and that she is made much of at an adults' ball and is vaguely sexualized. So often children in James' books suffer from indifferent care or are used in a most calculated way of exacting revenge. From a callow reading of his work one might think that he is using them only as the ultimate examples to highlight is theme of innocence versus corruption. However, readers of What Maise Knew can be only but painfully aware of James' deep concern and anxiety for children. Interestingly the question of the child Mona, which was highly suggestive of the adults at least unwittingly sexualizing the girl, if not actually abusing her, was never returned to. It lingered in my mind exactly what the author was trying to get at. As the tireless efforts Josephine Butler uncovered, child prostitution and the shunting of these children from one wealthy household to another was hardly a secret and seems to have been a vice endemic of the European aristocracy. I still wonder if this is what Toibin was suggesting. James is certainly unsettled by the girl and her presence at a gathering which is all adults, excepting her. In true Jamesian fashion it is left a mystery.

For the most part I find The Master a masterful portrait of a complex man, a man who had a genius for subtlety and observation. Toibin captures James as well as any biography ever has, and he has done so much in the manner of James, to wit, the Mona episode.

The Master in question is Henry James and Tóibín has written an historical fiction which blurs the borders with biography. He has attempted to put his readers into the thoughts and feelings of James when he was already a successful author, revered and loved by many. His book starts with James unsuccessful attempts at becoming a playwright in 1895 and takes us through to 1899 when the author was 57 years old and still had what many critics believe to be his major achievements in front of him.Tóibìn examines in some detail the themes that surround the life of this author; an American exiled in Europe writing about Americans abroad, his seemingly repressed sexuality (homosexuality). his difficulties in becoming intimate with any one human being and his ambiguity about his need for his own space and order in his life. As this is Tóibín writing, expect no sensationalism, but a sympathetic portrait that I think succeeds in getting under the skin of a gentle man who was a little out of step with the society that he portrayed so brilliantly in his novels. Tóibín’s understated prose fits perfectly with the character, who he succeeds in bringing to life in this compelling biography.Henry James moved in the upper echelons of society, he came from a respected American family and could quickly adapt to living in England and the rest of Europe, he knew how to behave and his manners were impeccable. Towards the end of his book Tóibin has the Baroness von Rabe tell Henry James some home truths and as readers we wince at her accuracy, but it does not jolt our sympathy for him. The scene is at a gathering of American exiles in Rome and the Baroness succeeds in hitting her target when she says to him:“I remember you when you were young and all the ladies followed you, nay fought with each other to go riding with you. That Mrs Sumner and young Miss Boott and young Miss Lowe. All the young ladies and those not so young. We all liked you and I suppose you liked us as well, but you were too busy gathering material to like anyone too much. You were charming of course, but you were like a young banker collecting our savings. Or a priest listening to our sins. I remember my aunt warning me not to tell you anything”She leaned towards him conspiratorially.“and I think that is what you are still doing. I don’t think you have retired. I wish however you would write more clearly and i’m sure the young sculptor, who is watching you, I’m sure he wishes the same.”We know that this is not the whole story. Tóibín while describing the significant events in the years covered by the book also fills in important details of James’ earlier life, particularly his relationship with his brothers and sister and his family background. For example in the chapter dealing with May 1896; James is finding it difficult to write, he has a sort of repetitive strain injury and this leads him to reminisce about other issues that were important in his life and we learn about his family and their involvement in the American Civil War. This background ‘filling in’ becomes part of the biography and succeeds in presenting to us a full and rounded picture of Henry James. The first chapter headed January 1985 tells us about the opening night of James’ play Guy Domville. It is a disaster and James as a nervous author cannot bear to be in the theatre and takes himself off to a production of Oscar Willde’s The importance of Being Ernest. James does not like the play and significantly cannot understand why the audience finds it so amusing. James himself understands that the life of a playwright is exciting, the social interaction with directors and actors is stimulating, it is something he wishes he could do, but realises he is more suited to the lonely life of a novelist. The comparison with Wilde’s openly gay persona is also a marked contrast with Henry James’ closet homosexuality. It all points to one of the major themes of the book which is James’ inability for intimacy and it is this which Toibin suggests both shapes and defines his art.Tóibin surmises that James felt intense guilt about his failure to do what was expected by friends who he became particularly close to. Others accuse him of not being there for a couple of his female friends at their time of need, and it is this which pushes Tóibíns book into the realms of conjecture. We cannot know what Henry James felt, but it is the novelists job to make us think that we do and this is what makes this meta biography such an absorbing read. The period detail is lovingly described and we sense Henry James’ pride in his position in the world. It is a biography that goes further than telling a story of a life and so it would appeal to readers who have not read, or even know nothing about Henry James. It is a portrait of a man and his times and for me a four star read.

In contemporary 21st c. writing, it is a High Crime not to acknowledge that the historical, such as an actual subject, the novelist Henry James of PORTRAIT OF A LADY, is separated from fiction, such as THE MASTER by COLM TOIBIN, for "never the twain meets." Now we know from Toibin that the art of writing, as a matter of survival, in the truth-telling business of every day life, like that of high science, must follow other rules, which change, for the survival of the species involved. The realization of each and both -- literature and biographical/auto-biographical history -- together consists of tissue thin sensitivities of the physical and the nonphysical (non-material to our five senses but not to the sixth). Nevertheless, independantly and together, the knowable through scientfic observations, testings, and theories,that have independently been come together is a rather fresh if not new kind of literary and historical fact of life in Toibinʻs hands. THE MASTER, as Colm Toibin crafts the novel, is a literary testament to Sir Cyril Burtʻs late 19th and early 20th c. understanding of the unseen forces of physics and psychology (conceived then as science and meta-physics (suggesting a kind of factual voodooism?) such as "the Ghost in the Machine" (as Arthur Koestler reported it in his modern scientific physics, chemistry theory and experimental historyical account, THE ROOTS OF COINCIDENCE (1972.). Actuality, by common sense perception of the world as subject, like the human reflections upon the nature of Nature, of which is Henry Jamesʻ studied perception of the people around him is merely one instance of the case -- is more lie than truth, but far from worthless. When literary characters are presented in their psychological forms -- Henry James in a cocoon of stolid, formidable disciplined New England characteristic reserve and his family memories in his and Aliceʻs and othesʻ lettered memories, and through the intervention of author Toibinʻs researched information long after, we onlookers have very little to say for we are captives of the traced memories that weave in, out, through, over and everywhere of the footnoted histories and our impressions of the subject and his world. So we are left to register responses rather than review Toibinʻs Book. it is experienced phenomena on multiple levels, spaces, and times more than as categorical literary fare, like a straightforward narrative. We are given a fiction that is also non-fiction, true or false and both. What falls between and around their connections is also tenable, yet firmly not dismissable because unclassified with certainty. It is not phantasy, not dream, not art, not science but a groping for what is there, if clear as well as confusing in parts. Because the subject, Henry James, known to the author Toibin in his own special relationship to James, is unknown to us except as some other person, independently, we think, of what Toibin brings to us as his experience of Henry James, Fact And Fiction.Everything Toibin says is Possible as meaningful idea and experience. The verified facts, like those of his birth and non-marriage, are trite. But the verified facts of his time, like the end of the 19th c. and first part of the 20th, are not. The context of Henry Jamesʻ social life, from sheer repetition of other lives like his having been Possibly gay and suffering, is temptingly verifiable; yet we cannot actually affirm that categorically. Toibin combines the Possible with the verified trite to the suspected Implied or the understandably Inferred --in a way that makes us hold our opinion or judgement because they are of no consequence. Delectably, they are real. The surprise gives pleasure because honest, among other things that might be said about it -- half truth, seductively, merely, but enough not to be a abandoned. There are few enough pleasures in life, proferred by art, literary being only one, and not second to biographical and auto-biographical, one is tempted to dismiss criticisms that warn because what is at the end of the rainbow is the dreamed pot of gold. Possibly.So we are seductively led to infer (that is. short of believing? but not quite) that Henry James was closer to the women in his life than to the men. For he, too, like the women of the time, suffered the personal outrages that the assumption of male superiority clamped down upon them -- his sister Alice, for example, repressed from being the unseen person in the family of four boys; his cousin Minny, because, like Alice, she is presumed to be "inferior" to all males, regardless of her demonstrated greater intelligence than theirs; the noble born woman friend whose husband, a British military officer of somewhat high rank, has in her employ a soldier-manservant named Hammond, perfect to the sensibilities of the famous writer Henry James himself, one and contentiously the same in life and in fiction, a male/female/male -- the only true gender, as the biological African EVE of modern anthropology proposes . . . .Toibin masterfully binds one to his artful telling so that there is little resistance to the marriage of fiction and history but rather a willingly acquiescense to both as not only inseparable but the only true Possible, in his depiction of Henry James, the preserver of virtues the chiefest of which is his integrity of person, i.e. his body, mind, and spirit, which was/is gay. Possibly. All fiction owes its truth-telling to the reality that is supposedly non-fiction. But the body is not merely skin, bones, organs, in movement in time, we do know, but how do we account for what we are not sure we know or do not know of half-knowing states and conditions? Henry James is less of an enigma than before Toibin begins his artful exposition of the inside realizations of the man as he encounters different persons (Toibinʻs Possibles) -- it is a kind of make-believe truth-like telling biography, helped by autobiographical elements like Jamesʻ letters to and from relatives and friends. We are led to encounter forms of a famous writer at his sparest moments of responding to persons intent on insulting him (like Mr. Webster, the high government official that he is introduced to at a British military officerʻs party in Ireland who reveals he knows the Jamesʻ Irish origins as so humble, they migrated) or connecting with him without a single word uttered (Hammond, the soldier-manservant) or his brother William, who, with him, the last of the surviving James Senior family gives advice that younger brother Henry finally rejects for advice of his own devising. In that, he is a free person, finally, coldly rational and (at last) resentful -- in self-defense. In writing. Which is a kind of silence, unspoken but plainly indicative of the person Henry Jamesʻ displeasure, manifest, for certain, for once.An LT viewer named V.V.Harding thought the fictionalized Henry "tame" considering his A London Life. I have not read a London Life. I would say Henry James is never tame, not even by comparison with other writings, and Toibin never mistakes Jamesʻ long suffering withholding of committed responses for meaning nothing at all. He shows James at his most deeply troubled -- a descendant of the Puritans, famous for their formidable coldness in society, developed out of bitter, long winters, originally in (as they conceived) hostile Indian territory, and a life build out of a wilderness, far beyond anything that their former civilized life had ever allowed as Possible . . .which fact did not, notwithstanding, prevent them from converting the Indians even if they did not, as the pilgrims, amicably befriend them. Jamesʻ sense of person was carried by an indomitable Will, and formidable Harvard education, at the time represented by Ralph Waldo Emerson, his outer ego Henry Thoreauʻs show casing the simple life in less than simple Walden Pond, not far from bustling Concord, Oliver Wendell Holmes . . .for which background there had already risen in a kind of simple majestic purity of voice a Nathaniel Hawthorne and sensitive Longfellow . . . . Henry James was gifted, rightly by culture, also through the impenetrable self-righteousness of the tight-lipped migrated religious Englishman who loved freedom to worship so much his love turned to a passion for political justice that settled an indomitable will known to the world since as American Puritan. Toibin, who is Irish, as James, both of whom knew suffering subjections by demand of Powers greater than they, understands the temperament: its signature is Silence with a Will to Freedom to life as their need demanded, despite ridiculed, as by the official Webster, or charmed and encouraged, as by calm, focussed, friendly soldier-manservant Hammond.Toibin introduces a new genre: the combination of fiction, biography, autobiography, and history, often enough inseparable in the narrative of Henry James, Person who is Writer. He does so more openly than the Russian Bulgakov of THE MASTER AND MARGARITA. But James is very much an American at his best, as Toibin proves is Possible to understand, as Bulgakov, infinitely more repressed and utterly oppressed as well also shows of a later succeeding generation from two very different national and personal histories about which we gain an inside viewing late, but grateful.THE MASTER was short-listed title for the Booker Prize. In my mind, it is a Booker Prize winner,excellences being always, to me, incomparable. Only the unreality of practicality presumes that art that is excellent is comparable -- which no one believes, as I, emphatically, do not.

A superb book.

Beautiful novel written in a magnificent style, highly recommended even if you haven't read anything of Henry James (neither have I).

A wonderful book, especially for people who are as fascinated with Henry James the man as much as they are his stories. A touching novel about this complex, lonely and brilliant man.

I admit that I found this book easy to read, and that it held my interest. It is I take it biographically correct, and adds much to the 'record' by telling Henry James' thoughts and feelings. It starts in Januaary 1895, as James effort to be a playwright is failing, and concludes in October 1899, but there are many flashbacks and one gets a pretty full account of much of James' life from birth up to 1899--though of course disjointed, and flashbacky. But after reading the book I felt it really did not tell much and I was disappoinrted that the book did not proceed to tell of James' life after 1899..Stylistically, one is reminded of James' own writing, . But it is all rather 'precious' and makes a big deal of James' latent (usually, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., excepted) homosexuality. On balance, I found the book disappointing, considering how much it was hyped when it came out.

A fictionalized biography of Henry James, written I think in the HJ style. It's like James' life made into one of his novels. Lovely calm ruminative soothing writing; made me want to reread Portrait of a Lady.

Deliciously detailed and slow this is almost more biography than novel. As baroque and subtle as James but perhaps more honest.

It did not fulfill my expectations when I read it, but I am warming up to it as the time goes along. This is a creative biography of Henry James. It is as much about Henry James as about Toibin himself, I feel, and about the creative writing process. The book shows Henry James as an acute, albeit passive, observer of life. He doesn’t express opinions or take active part in any aspect of life from politics to sexuality. His life is full of avoiding life. It seems that he solely expressed himself in writing. He is shown thriving on stories and happenings of others which he reworks into his own literary creations. Some other famous personalities of the time are dwelt on briefly in the book, among whom Oscar Wilde serves as an anti-thesis of James, and at this backdrop Toibin ventures to examine Henry James’ thoughts on writing and success.On the whole the book did not meet my expectations, and it was its biggest fault, perhaps. Since Henry James came from a family of thinkers, I expected more philosophical discussions, witty remarks and arguments in the book, some of which could be found by the end. James himself is known for awfully convoluted speech and pompous behaviour, and there is none of it in the book. If I treat it as a novel, I am much more at peace with it, and able to appreciate its merits.The book’s strength is its style with subtle and elegant language.

Enjoyed reading this, although as a newcomer to Henry James and his life, I had to approach this as a work concerning a fictional character to avoid feeling left behind. The tone and style of Toibin's writing is impressive and understated.

I was impressed by this fictional bio of Henry James. Very subtle, very quiet, and well-executed. I really liked how we wove in various people and incidents that inspired James' work.

This was my ‘between bookclub books ‘read, borrowed from the GVRL. I don’t usually like novels about real characters as it is hard to know where fact and fiction meet. Perhaps because I didn’t know anything about the life of the author Henry James, I thoroughly enjoyed this. I have only ever read one ghost story of Henry James but the book seemed to capture the tone of the late 1890’s in Europe. On the last page of acknowledgments, Toibin says he ‘peppered the text with phrases and sentences from the writings of Henry James and his family” – he has done a fine job.

I loved the subtle tone of the whole book. It made Henry James & the way his mind works so interesting, and compelled me to read another of James's novels.

The Master is the fictionalized biography of author Henry James. James was born of a wealthy Boston family, but lived much of his life in Europe. Throughout this book, James struggles in his relationships with both family and friends. He never completely loses his aloof standoffish behavior as well as the book hints of a struggle accepting or exploring his sexuality.

I have to say that I really struggled with this book. As I read over other people's reviews and I kept thinking - Is that the same book? Maybe it is because I've only read 1 short story by Henry James - The Turn of the Screw. As the novel covered how James came up with his ideas for the characters and plot of this ghost story, I did find that interesting. But I kept on hoping for a breakthrough in his own personal life. Either by developing a long lasting friendship, or at least acceptance/contentment with his life. Maybe my dissatisfaction was due to the audio production - the narrator, Ralph Cosham was flat and morose (which seemed to match James' life...). Not a great listen for me.

I loved this book. I thought Tóibín did a beautiful job adapting his style to one that was evocative of Henry James, although more easily readable. The novel moves with James to London, Ireland, Italy, and Rye, and effectively integrates James' memories of the past in flashbacks that come as responses to his relationships, tensions, and interactions with others.

Tóibín has been described as a writer who is keenly interested in his characters' psychology and relationships, and this interest comes to the fore in The Master. James emerges very much as an isolated figure. He worries about how he appears to others, he struggles to maintain his composure, and in his zeal to maintain his privacy, he shies away from intimate relationships with others inside and outside of his family. He even (or especially) shields himself from knowledge of his true identity, particularly with regards to his sexuality. Tóibín's style, restrained and formal, beautifully (and sadly) conveys James' isolation and separation.

Finally, I also found Tóibín's depiction of James's writing process to be revealing. Through chapters that focus on James's relationships with important figures in his life, including his sister Alice, Tóibín explores ways in which James used his writing to communicate with, remember, and in some cases make amends to ghosts in his life. I was left thinking about the limitations on intimacy that this approach can lead to - the barriers a writer can erect by being an observer rather than an active participant, the instrumentality of relationships formed and experiences sought primarily to provide material for a novel or play, and the betrayal felt by friends and family when they read James's work only to see themselves appearing as characters.

(listened to the audio book) Now for something completely different. The Master is Toíbin's hommage to the writer Henry James. He leads us through the latter years of Jame's life from the devastating reception of his play, Guy Domville, in 1895 to....wait. I can't remember where it ends. I am pretty sure it did not end with James' death though. I think he left off at James' house in Rye. I am pretty sure it ends before WWI- as it wasn't mentioned and James' died in 1916.This is a slow, nuanced and textured read (or listen), that hints at James' homosexuality through subtle comments and meaningful glances but is never explicitly stated. It also relies on flashbacks to talk about his different novels and the periods in James' life that influenced them.After all the post-apocalyptic craziness I have been into lately or all the heavy on the plot YA novels I read, this was a comforting salve. Beautifully written, meticulous as James' personality, I would recommend this book to anyone who loves to lose themselves in the ornate, subtle and layered world of Henry James.

I'm a fan of Toibin but I fear this is not his best work. It seems an idiosyncratic of specialization that only the author and few people are interested in. There is nothing new or inventive about the novel, just a suturing of parts.

This is such an enjoyable read. Toibin inhabits Henry James, the novelist, during a period towards the latter part of his life when he moves to Rye on the south coast of England. Toibin borrows from the style of Henry James and, if I may say so, is better at writing in Henry James's style that James, The Master himself.The novel reflectsback on aspects of James's life and coyness on his sexuality and weaves through the ispiration of some of his writing and the possible real relations he had with people who inhabit James's novels.It's a curious thing that the house James moved to in Rye, Lamb House, was also the home much later of E F Benson, another gay man whose novels of Mapp and Lucia are such a gay romp

“Life is a mystery and…only sentences are beautiful,” Colm Tóibín’s Henry James observes when asked, toward the end of The Master, the moral of his stories. And to be sure, there is no want of beautiful sentences in this novel of five years in Henry James’ life. It begins with his disastrous play, “Guy Domville”, in 1895 and ends with a rapprochement of sorts between Henry and his older brother, William, the noted psychologist. Through a series of studies of crucial events in James’ life over this period, Tóibín paints the portrait of an artist at peace with his life-choices, dedicated to his subtle art, always seeming to stand at the entrance to a room observing sensitively without ever giving away too much of himself.The prose is wonderfully evocative. Not so much an imitation of James’ style as a worthy homage. It is richly dense, enough so that you will linger in reading it. But it is never ponderous. Tóibín’s love for James, both author and man, comes through clearly. It may indeed be Tóibín’s finest work.The only hesitation I have in recommending it whole-heartedly is that I don’t understand why a writer of Tóibín’s talents would undertake such a work of fiction. This is a general bemusement not confined to this work in particular. Such a work of hagiographic historical fiction always, it seems to me, trades upon the reader’s often malformed assumptions about the historical figure or the historical period. In some ways this frees the author to concentrate on the portrait and ignore the frame. But it also constrains the meaning that might be conveyed. Of course this is merely a limitation on the form and not a comment on its execution, which here is done about as well as I could ever imagine it. And on that ground I feel confident in recommending it.

If you're going to write a fictionalized biography, why not make the subject Henry James rather than that Frey fellow?