The Transit of Venus (1980) is an astonishingly brilliant novel that delves deep into the transience of love. It tells the story of two Australian sisters, Caroline and Grace Bell, who emigrated to England in the 1950s. Orphaned at a young age due to their parents' deaths in a Sydney harbour ferry sinking, the sisters were raised by their older half-sister Dora. On their arrival in Britain as young women, gentle Grace quickly married and settled into an apparently uneventful marriage with a self-satisfied man of means. Caro, the elder sister and the novel's protagonist, is a different kind of woman. Most of the book is dedicated to Caro's story.

Hazzard was born in Sydney, Australia, in 1931. Eventually, she journeyed to the United States and took a job at the United Nations. She had previously held government-service posts in Hong Kong and New Zealand. Her prose is elegant, mesmerizing, erudite, and not without a touch of wry humor.

Cleverly concealed within the text are all the clues that the reader needs to piece together to truly understand the devastating ending of the story. In fact, the novel undergoes a rather abrupt transformation from a complex, beautifully written tragic love story to a chilling examination of integrity and selfhood. The ending is like a puzzle that only the attentive readers will be able to solve.

I completed reading the novel late last night and immediately began rereading certain parts of it. I was overwhelmed and deeply moved by its depth and complexity. I wholeheartedly agree with Hazzard's husband, Francis Steegmuller, who remarked that nobody should ever have to read this book for the first time. I feel the need to return to it soon. But first, I will explore her other novels.

I cannot recommend this book highly enough. It has won several awards and has been endorsed by numerous prestigious critics. Do yourself a favor and read it.

When reading The Transit of Venus, I was frequently reminded of what the filmmaker Mikio Naruse said about his films, that they were always about how the world constantly betrays us.

The novel is a reckoning with a lifetime's worth of misapprehension and ignorance. It delves into revelations that come too late in life and, as a result, how life always fails to meet our expectations.

Four individuals are intertwined in a complex web of relationships that bind them together. Over a period of fifty years, the novel tracks how these characters and their relationships develop. It has the simplest of plots—and yet, and yet. There is an incredible sensitivity towards how desire and power are inseparably linked, and I was deeply touched by its insights.

In its unwaveringly honest yet astonishingly beautiful prose, the novel is finely attuned to the subtle maneuvers through which we maintain our individual sovereignty, acquire power over others, or completely surrender ourselves to the power of others.

Consider this passage from when Paul and Caro mutually recognize the intense passion between them:

“...Paul awaited the moment when Caro’s silence would be transferred back, intensified, from the place to himself. He was calm, with controlled desire and with the curiosity that is itself an aspect of desire. As yet he and she had merely guessed at each other’s essence, and her show of self-sufficiency had given her some small degree of power over him—power that could only be reversed by an act of possession. Preliminary uncertainty might be a stimulus, if the outcome was assured.”

After finishing the novel, I reread Parul Sehgal's review in the NYTimes, which is beautifully written. I was disturbed to realize something I had been too inattentive to notice in the novel. It has been said that The Transit of Venus is a novel better reread than read for the first time. I would be dishonest if I said my first read wasn't profoundly enjoyable, but I can't wait to read it again in the future.

I'm truly torn about this. The writing is simply stunning. It has a certain allure that keeps pulling me in. Her characterizations are, at times, brilliant. Take for example her portrayal of Dora, the half-sister. The way she manages to give you a vivid idea of Portia's character without ever really discussing her much is quite remarkable.

However, I did find the writing occasionally self-indulgent in its "writerly-ness." There is, of course, a very broad spectrum between "readerly" and "writerly" fiction. And while I tend to lean more towards the latter, it can be all too easy for a great writer to forget the reader and the story while getting completely caught up in the prose. Just as in the later works of Henry James, it can be extremely hard to decide whether the obscurity of the language is appropriate because of the subtleties of what it is portraying, or if it is, in fact, a failure, a self-indulgence on the part of the writer.

It's a fine line to walk, and in this case, I'm left with mixed feelings. On one hand, I'm in awe of the beautiful writing and the unique characterizations. On the other hand, I can't help but feel that the writer may have sacrificed some aspects of the story and the reader's experience in the pursuit of a more "writerly" style.

I dedicated 70 pages to this book and then put it aside.

I \\n  never\\n take such an action! Generally speaking, I will tenaciously persevere through most things. However, after reading 70 pages, I had no clue what was happening, didn't recognize who the characters were, and didn't have an idea of what I should feel about them.

Moreover, Shirley, for the sake of all that is sacred, a large number of sentence fragments are irritating to read; direct objects are always beneficial; and no one (NO ONE!) converses in such a manner--if we did, none of us would understand what the heck we were discussing.

This book really left me confused and dissatisfied. I had high hopes for it at the beginning, but as I delved deeper, it just became a jumble of words and concepts that I couldn't make sense of.

I'm not sure if it's the author's writing style or my own inability to grasp the content, but either way, it's a disappointment. I may give it another try in the future, but for now, it's sitting on my shelf gathering dust.

Rating: 4.5

A rich and fascinating story unfolds across several continents, namely Australia, the UK, the US, and South America. It features an equally diverse cast of interesting characters. The story, as detailed in the book description, is set in the period from the 1950s to the 1970s.

The writing style is decent. However, I didn't have a particular fondness for the silly puns in the language, such as the example:

\\n  
\\n  .. bulbs were sunk into lampshades and window boxes.\\n  
\\n

But I suppose that's a matter of personal preference.

I was particularly impressed by the descriptions of the depressing wet and cold England of the 1950s, especially gray London, and the dreary existence of its civil servants.

For more, see also this and this review.

I've dithered for weeks over my rating for this one.

Finally, I settled on the five-star 'it was amazing' category because, indeed, it was amazing.

However, I'm not entirely sure if I actually liked it.

It must be noted that I read it under pressure, which is a crime when it comes to a Shirley Hazzard novel.

It might be fine for a plot-led thriller where the only point of interest is the ending, but a novel by Ms Hazzard should be savored at leisure.

One should luxuriate in that exquisitely fine language, linger over the cadence of the sentences, and glory in the subtlety of relationships.

Unfortunately, that wasn't possible for me.

It was the choice for my face-to-face book group.

One lady emailed me saying she couldn't get hold of a copy and could she borrow mine.

And I hadn't even started it at that point.

So, I had to finish it in five days.

And in the back of my mind, I was worried that my face-to-face ladies would crucify me for suggesting such a book.

None of them are native speakers.

How on earth would they manage?

For it must be said that Ms Hazzard makes you work.

Michaela is my lifeline in English class as she's a walking dictionary.

When I come up with words like 'ostensible' or 'plethora' and can't think of the German equivalent, Michaela can.

Yet, even she protested that she had to read this with the novel in one hand and a dictionary in the other.

Oh, dear!

Art is the transfiguration of the commonplace, according to Arthur Danto.

I had to keep reminding myself of that as I struggled through, thinking that this was too much commonplace and too much transfiguration.

Sometimes, it felt as if the language was more of a barrier than a medium.

This impression was strengthened by the feeling that every single character in the book had taken a rigorous course in discourse analysis.

Each and every one of them had an uncanny ability to instantly recognize the subtext beneath each other's comments.

Admittedly, there were some heart-stopping, breathtaking moments.

But there was also a lot in the middle where I wondered why I should still be interested in a couple of sisters from Sydney.

But then, but then.

There are several slow-ticking bombs that Ms Hazzard surreptitiously plants during the course of the novel.

And at the end, these explode in a dazzling, heartrending conflagration that throws light backwards on what you have read.

Ms Hazzard redeems herself.

She writes with authority while simultaneously allowing you to see how she does it.

It ends up being a book about the reading process, a book that reveals to us how we hold those details in mind, ready to combine them as required and directed by a masterly author.

Yes, five stars.

Deeply satisfying.

The scene presented in the first few pages of this novel has remained etched in my memory, even several years after I first read it.

It is masterfully written, with a boldness that is both captivating and terrifying. The overall experience is truly maddening, as it is intriguingly complex and brutally honest in its dissection of relationships and intimacy. In fact, it reminds me of D.H. Lawrence's "Lady Chatterley's Lover" in that regard.

The writing style is often intoxicating, drawing the reader in and holding their attention. However, at times it can seem a bit stiff and restrained. I have a strong desire to re-read this novel, anticipating that I will discover even more aspects to love and hate. But I know that I will need to prepare myself before delving back into its pages.

As to why I have such a dramatic reaction to this book, I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it's because it forces me to confront my own beliefs and feelings about love, sex, and relationships. Or perhaps it's simply because the writing is so powerful and thought-provoking. I hope that by re-reading it, I will be able to gain a better understanding of my own response and uncover the true essence of this remarkable novel.

4 and 1/2 stars, though it is amazing.

This is an extremely ambitious novel that is both well-conceived and well-executed. The author has done a remarkable job of incorporating well-placed foreshadowing throughout the story. In particular, there is one instance of foreshadowing in the beginning that lingers and haunts the remainder of the book. It adds an element of mystery and anticipation that keeps the reader engaged. Additionally, the way in which the seemingly throwaway lines turn out to have significant consequences later on is truly masterful. These jolts of realization add excitement and depth to the narrative.

However, there were a few times when I found myself feeling slightly disengaged. This was perhaps due to the cleverness of the writing, which at times pulled me out of the story. But I'm sure this is more of a personal shortcoming on my part rather than a fault of the work itself. I can't help but think that if I were to reread this novel, I would be even more in awe of how it is constructed. I'm certain that I missed a great deal of the subtleties and intricacies along the way, and a second reading would allow me to fully appreciate the author's genius.

The story was gut-wrenching, soul-crushing, and downright devastating.

As I reached the last pages, I read them so slowly. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of fear, dreading the inevitable tragic ending.

And oh, how right I was to be afraid! Lol.

The author had masterfully crafted a narrative that pulled at my heartstrings and left me in a state of emotional turmoil.

Each word seemed to carry a weight that added to the growing sense of doom.

I couldn't help but hold my breath, hoping against hope that somehow, the story would take a different turn.

But alas, the fates had other plans, and the tragic ending unfolded before my eyes, leaving me with a feeling of emptiness and a profound sense of loss.

It was a reading experience that I will not soon forget.

My favorite book ever is truly a masterpiece. It is my personal gold standard for fiction, setting a bar that is almost impossible to reach.

Every single chapter within its pages is like a precious gem, carefully crafted and shining with brilliance. It's as if each one could have been a New Yorker short story, standing alone yet fitting perfectly into the larger narrative.

And the sentences! Oh, the sentences are absolute marvels. They are constructed with such precision and artistry that they seem to dance off the page. Each word is carefully chosen, every phrase is a work of literary magic.

This book has had a profound impact on me, captivating my imagination and leaving me in awe of the author's talent. It is a book that I will return to again and again, eager to discover new nuances and treasures with each reading.

The writing in this piece is truly brilliant from a technical perspective. However, the author seems to deliberately keep the reader at a distance, preventing any kind of emotional connection to the characters. There is this almost diamond-like sheen that covers the period from the 50's to the 80's. In this setting, we are expected to cheer for the two sisters as they strive to succeed in a man's world and disengage from the idea that sex and marriage are the only things in life worth living for. While these goals are lofty within the context of a novel, I find myself longing to care about the characters as real people rather than just ideals. And yet, they are not ideals at all; they are regular women trying to find their way in the world. So, I'm left wondering why I can't get to know these women in any meaningful way.

This feeling is similar to what I've experienced when reading Doris Lessing, Iris Murdoch, and others. It's quite strange because I don't necessarily think that for a novel to be successful, the characters have to be likable. But I do believe they have to be complete, and these two sisters are in no way complete. This is really going to bother me for a long time as I try to figure out exactly what it is about this novel that rubs me the wrong way.