The Life to Come: A Novel

by Michelle de Kretser Narrated by Shiromi Arserio

Overview

Set in Australia, France, and Sri Lanka, The Life to Come is about the stories we tell and don't tell ourselves as individuals, as societies, and as nations. Driven by a vivid cast of characters, it explores necessary emigration, the art of fiction, and ethnic and class conflict. As Hilary Mantel has written, "I so admire Michelle de Kretser's formidable technique-her characters feel alive, and she can create a sweeping narrative that encompasses years and yet still retain the sharp, almost hallucinatory detail."



Pippa is an Australian writer who longs for the success of her novelist teacher and eventually comes to fear that she "missed everything important." In Paris, Celeste tries to convince herself that her feelings for her married lover are reciprocated. Ash makes strategic use of his childhood in Sri Lanka, but blots out the memory of a tragedy from that time and can't commit to his trusting girlfriend, Cassie. Sri Lankan Christabel, who is generously offered a passage to Sydney by Bunty, an old acquaintance, endures her dull job and envisions a brighter future that "rose, glittered, and sank back," while she neglects the love close at hand.

Editorial Reviews

MAY 2018 - AudioFile

In this globe- and decade-spanning audiobook, author de Kretser follows a collection of loosely connected characters, most of them Australian immigrants or émigrés. As the novel travels from Australia to Sri Lanka and France, and back to Australia, narrator Shiromi Arserio capably moves through a wide range of accents. Pippa, a moderately successful, moderately talented author, is the through line, but de Kretser is more interested in the complexities and contradictions of contemporary life and relationships than the story of any single character. The sizable cast can be difficult to track, and Arserio’s consistent inflection does not always provide clues. Her wry delivery, however, perfectly captures the cutting observations about contemporary life. E.C. © AudioFile 2018, Portland, Maine

Publishers Weekly

01/29/2018
De Kretser’s sprawling follow-up to her novella Springtime features many different lives converging and diverging across decades and continents. In Sydney, Pippa wants to make her mark on Australian fiction, while her former professor, George, distances himself from his cult following the success of his own books. A few streets away, Cassie falls for Ash, mesmerized by his mysterious boyhood in Sri Lanka. In Paris, Celeste works as a translator while reckoning with her complicated history with the city and the lover she rearranges her life for. And all the while, over many decades, Sri Lankan Christabel and her childhood friend Bunty build a quiet life together in Australia after reconnecting as adults. While each section can stand alone, together they create a joyful and mournful meditation on the endless small pleasures and complications of life: the difficulties of immigration, the logistics of infidelity, the creativity and insight born of jealousy and spite. In de Kretser’s sure-footed and often surprising prose, life is rendered as something that’s “tedious yet require concentration, like a standard-issue dream.” (Mar.)

From the Publisher

Praise for The Life to Come

Winner of the Miles Franklin Literary Award
Winner of the 2019 Christina Stead Prize for Fiction
Shortlisted for the Stella Prize
Longlisted for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award
Shortlisted for the Prime Minister's Literary Award for Fiction


“For a novel concerned with dislocation, there's a lot of grounding humor in The Life to Come. Most of it comes at the expense of Pippa and her ilk, but de Kretser's observations are so spot on, you'll forgive her even as you cringe.” —Amelia Lester, The New York Times Book Review

“Reflecting a pessimism that's almost refreshing in its candor, The Life to Come is mordantly skeptical about mankind's capacity for empathy. . . .The novel is filled with brilliant, quick–fire characterizations. . . . A scalpel–sharp work of Flaubertian social realism—but now the provincial setting whose customs it mercilessly dissects encompasses all Australia, if not all the world.” —Sam Sacks, Wall Street Journal

“De Kretser's writing captures, with unflagging wit, grace and subtlety, the spiritual as well as physical journeys of people on the move—between cultures, mindsets and stages of growth. . . . She writes about the aura and texture of places with breath–stopping virtuosity. . . . De Kretser excels at mordant takedowns—of right–on dinner parties, literary festivals where TV chefs hog the limelight, faddy diets—but she grants all her people the mystery of inwardness.” —Boyd Tonkin, The Financial Times

“The acclaimed Australian writer’s fifth novel spans continents—set in Australia, France and her native Sri Lanka—and weaves together disparate narratives that raise uncomfortable questions about Australian society, self–satisfied liberalism and modern life.”—Claire Fallon, Huffington Post

“The two best novels of the year are both Australian . . . Michelle de Kretser's surprising and profound The Life to Come has an unfashionable aspect: it is richly funny, and excoriating about current pieties. The lucidity and joy of de Kretser's prose, too, is a wonder to behold.” —Philip Hensher, The Spectator

“Flowing from poignancy to eloquence to delightfully wry satire, The Life to Come's richness of prose and character is meant to be savored and reflected upon.” —Meg Nola, Foreword Reviews

“A very stylized book—think Ali Smith or Virginia Woolf.” —Reading Women

“[The] characters give de Kretser, herself a native of Sri Lanka who lives in Sydney, a chance to explore the complexity of societies in the long throes of mistreatment of their ethnic minorities, whether those are Aboriginal people, Indians, Sri Lankans in Australia, or Algerians in Paris. . . . There is also much pleasure to be found in de Kretser's lovely prose, whose every sentence fiercely shines. A thought–provoking novel of both beauty and brains.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

“[De Kretser] has again written a perceptive and articulate novel that blends acute observation and well–chosen details to create a sweeping story that is painfully close to home. With fascinating characters and beautifully nuanced writing, The Life to Come is a powerful exploration of the human condition and a compelling examination of how we look at each other and ourselves.” —Booklist (starred review)

“This marvelous stylistic work, dense with lush descriptions of scents, Asian food, Australian trees and flowers, weather, and Sydney neighborhoods, reflects on issues of race, immigration, and what it means to be an Australian: so different from America—or is it? Highly recommended.” —Library Journal (starred review)

“While each section can stand alone, together they create a joyful and mournful meditation on the endless small pleasures and complications of life: the difficulties of immigration, the logistics of infidelity, the creativity and insight born of jealousy and spite. In de Kretser’s sure–footed and often surprising prose, life is rendered as something that’s 'tedious yet require[s] concentration, like a standard–issue dream.'“ —Publishers Weekly

“It's a complex work; personally, as someone who grew up in the inner west of Sydney and who enrolled as a student in Paris, I found your descriptions of place beautiful and yet startling in their accuracy.” —The Garret

“The Life to Come is a rich, sensory evocation of the sights and smells of a city from which the real substance of sights and smells appears to have been eviscerated. Celeste asks her mother, 'Why do Australians go on so much about food?,' and receives the reply: 'Because they live in a country of no importance.'“ —Public Books

“Michelle de Kretser is a deliberately discomforting writer. She beguiles with beautiful descriptions, of sparkling Sydney (and Paris and Sri Lanka) and sharply drawn characters; then she sharpens her pencil on both characters and readers, with a decided poke at foibles and affectations, woolly politics and misguided ambition.” —ABC (Australia)

“The Life to Come namechecks—with a characteristically ironic flourish—Patrick White and Christina Stead (‘safely great ... safely dead’), and includes a tribute to the ‘fearless’ Shirley Hazzard. De Kretser belongs in that estimable company. She is every bit their equal as a stylist, and in her willingness to apply the acid.”—James Ley, Sydney Review of Books

“The Life to Come is a mesmerising novel about the stories we tell and don’t tell ourselves as individuals, as societies, and as nations.” —Better Reading

“Five days into 2018, is it possible we already have the year’s best novel? I’ll be amazed if anything surpasses this compulsive, exquisitely light–footed narrative composed of four loosely linked episodes seesawing between a sprawling cast spread over three continents. . . . One might puzzle over what it all adds up to, but complaining about the lack of an overarching plot feels churlish given the other riches on offer in this glorious novel.”—Anthony Cummins, The Daily Mail (UK)

“The Life to Come . . . has five overlapping stories which, while being character–driven, reflect a particular concern with history and place. . . .Michelle de Kretser is a writer of unsentimental humanity.” —Donald McDonald, thespectator.co.uk

“There is an enjoyably acute observation on almost every page of Michelle de Kretser's new novel. . . . As always, Michelle de Kretser offers a wide compassionate view to contain the cruel specific thoughts and accounts of past wrongs.”—Lindsay Duguid, The Times Literary Supplement (London)

“This spellbinding story follows a cast of characters as they chase their ideal version of life. Incredibly perceptive and uncannily contemporary, it is a satirical take on modern society.”—Rabeea Saleem, Book Riot UK

“Michelle de Kretser understands the power of detail, its ability to encapsulate and to express bigger matters. . . . The Life to Come is an astonishing book, fiercely intelligent, wise and subtle, unhurried and generous.” —Anna Rogers, New Zealand Listener

“The Life to Come is a remarkable achievement . . . . It's a book of myriad miniature overlapping stories, shot through with subtle leitmotifs, which brilliantly captures the expectant thrum of a world where the future is always about to happen.”—The Saturday Paper (Australia)

“With wit and aplomb, Michelle de Kretser unpacks the eloquent silences that surround us to reveal the issues that we deny, suppress and ignore, exposing our flawed assumptions about other people. And she is wickedly funny.”—Lisa Hill, ANZ LitLovers LitBlog

“Superb, ambitious and deeply moving.”—Geordie Williamson, Weekend Australian

“The Life to Come is an intense reading experience. . . . Michelle de Kretser has written a comic lament of disarming force.”—Michael McGirr, The Age

“De Kretser's great strength as a writer is her capacity to render the sensory and the sensual. . . . She is tactile and hyper–observant, as are her characters; the pleasure of this novel is in watching her watch them.”—Beejay Silcox, Australian Book Review

“Michelle de Kretser is a fiercely intelligent voice in contemporary fiction. Intimate and engaging, her work is always a pleasure to read . . . The Life to Come is a compelling exploration of race, class, migration and the art of writing itself.” —Writers & Company, Canadian Broadcasting Corporation

“The Life to Come. . .has five overlapping stories which, while being character–driven, reflect a particular concern with history and place. . . .Michelle de Kretser is a writer of unsentimental humanity.”—The Spectator

“Although The Life to Come is not a political novel, it is a book that captures the political, social and economic zeitgeist. The beautifully drawn and complex characters are all creatures of the time.” —Brigid Delaney, Guardian Australia

“Exhilaratingly good writing. . . . Each page yields sparkling sentences and keen observations.”—Suzi Feay, Literary Review (UK)

MAY 2018 - AudioFile

In this globe- and decade-spanning audiobook, author de Kretser follows a collection of loosely connected characters, most of them Australian immigrants or émigrés. As the novel travels from Australia to Sri Lanka and France, and back to Australia, narrator Shiromi Arserio capably moves through a wide range of accents. Pippa, a moderately successful, moderately talented author, is the through line, but de Kretser is more interested in the complexities and contradictions of contemporary life and relationships than the story of any single character. The sizable cast can be difficult to track, and Arserio’s consistent inflection does not always provide clues. Her wry delivery, however, perfectly captures the cutting observations about contemporary life. E.C. © AudioFile 2018, Portland, Maine

Kirkus Reviews

★ 2017-12-10
An aspiring novelist moves through a circle of friends, lovers, and acquaintances, all navigating fraught relationships with each other and with their homelands.There is a moment in de Kretser's (Springtime, 2016, etc.) novel when she describes the works a character translates as "obscure European...novels that offered no clear message nor any flashing signs as to how they were to be understood, novels whose authors were neither photogenic nor young—sometimes they were even Swiss." This tongue-in-cheek assessment—one of so many delightfully caustic observations throughout—could be applied to this novel, too. The book is divided into largely stand-alone sections, each of which focuses on a different pair of characters. There is the aforementioned translator, Australian native Céleste, and her married female lover in Paris; budding academic Cassie and her partner, Ash, a Sri Lankan/Scottish scholar in Sydney; Sri Lankan-born Christabel and her girlhood friend, Bunty, who brings her to Australia. Budding writer Pippa is the thread holding all these sections together, making prominent appearances or Hitchcock-ian cameos in the others' lives. These characters give de Kretser, herself a native of Sri Lanka who lives in Sydney, a chance to explore the complexity of societies in the long throes of mistreatment of their ethnic minorities, whether those are Aboriginal people, Indians, Sri Lankans in Australia, or Algerians in Paris. The book's white characters fancy themselves progressive but move through the world with cringing naiveté: Pippa includes a statement in her automatic email signature that reads, in part, "I pay my respects to Elders, past, present and future. Sent from my iPad." But if all these sound like dense, heavy ideas (and they are), there is also much pleasure to be found in de Kretser's lovely prose, whose every sentence fiercely shines.A thought-provoking novel of both beauty and brains.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940170011070
Publisher:	HighBridge Company
Publication date:	03/13/2018
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

THE HOUSE BY THE RIVER belonged to an old man whose relationship to George Meshaw was complicated but easily covered by ‘cousin’. He had lived there alone, with a painting that was probably a Bonnard. Now he was in a nursing home, following a stroke, and George’s mother had taken charge of the painting. It was her idea that George should live in the house until it was clear whether or not their cousin was coming home. She had flown up to Sydney for the day, and George met her for a late lunch. George’s mother wore a dark Melbourne dress and asked the waiter for ‘Really cold water’, between remarking on the humidity and the jacarandas—you would never guess that she had lived in Sydney for the first thirty-one years of her life. She bent her head over her handbag, and George found himself looking at a scene from childhood. His mother was on the phone, with the orange wall in the living room behind her. As he watched her, she bent forward from the waist, still holding the receiver. Her hair stood out around her head: George saw a dark-centred golden flower. He couldn’t have been more than six but he understood that his mother was trying to block out the noise around her—he folded like that, too, protecting a book or a toy when ‘Dinner!’ was called—and that this was difficult because the room was full of the loud jazz his father liked to play.

Over the years, George’s mother’s hair had been various colours and lengths, and now it was a soft yellow sunburst again, still with that central dark star. She produced a supermarket receipt from her bag and read from the back of it: ‘Hair Apparent. Do or Dye.’

‘The Head Gardener,’ replied George. ‘Moody Hair.’

They were in the habit of noting down the names of hair-dressing salons for each other. His mother said, ‘Also, I saw this in an airport shop: “Stainless steel is immune to rust, discoloration and corrosion. This makes it ideal for men’s jewellery.”’

George and his mother had the same high laugh—hee hee hee—and otherwise didn’t resemble each other at all. The Bonnard was beside her, done up in cardboard and propped on a chair. When George asked what it was like, his mother said, ‘A naked woman and wallpaper. He needed an excuse to paint light.’

The house by the river was spacious and built of bricks covered in white render. It was late spring when George moved in, but the rooms on the ground floor were cold and dark. There were mortuary-white tiles on the floor, and the lights were fluorescent tubes that looked as if they would be fatal to insects.

They had to be switched on even in the middle of the day. George remembered that his mother had described the house as ‘Mediterranean’. Ridiculous second-hand visions—a turreted pink villa with terraced gardens, a bowl of red fish at a window—had opened at once in his mind.

He had been back in Sydney for four years and still swam gratefully in its impersonal ease. In Melbourne, where George had lived since he was six, he had wanted to write about modernism in Australian fiction for his PhD. After some difficulty, a professor who would admit to having once read an Australian novel was found. At their first meeting, she handed George a reading list made up of French and German philosophers. When George settled down to read these texts, he discovered some- thing astonishing: the meaning of each word was clear and the meaning of sentences baffled. Insignificant yet crucial words like ‘however’ and ‘which’—words whose meaning was surely beyond dispute—had been deployed in ways that made no sense. It was as unnerving as if George had seen a sunset in his east-facing window, and for a while it was as mesmeric as any disturbance to the order of things. When despair threatened, he transferred his scholarship to a university in Sydney. There, George read novels and books about novels and was wildly happy. He taught a couple of tutorials to supplement his scholarship. Recently, with his thesis more or less out of the way, he had begun to write a novel at night.

A loggia with archways ran along the upper floor on the river side of the house. That was where George ate his meals and sometimes came to sit very early, as the park detached itself from the night. Koels called, and currawongs—the birds who had whistled over his childhood. Fifteen minutes by train from the centre of the city, he lived among trees, birdsong, Greeks. The Greeks, arriving forty years earlier, had seen paradise: cheap real estate, sunlight for their stunted children. Fresh from civil war and starvation, they were too ignorant to grasp what every Australian knew: this was the wrong side of Sydney. Where was the beach?

There were mornings when George left the house at sunrise, crossed the river and turned into a road that ran beside the quarried-out side of a hill. The sandstone was sheer and largely obscured by greenery: giant gum trees fanned against the rock, and native figs, vines, scrub. Brick bungalows cowered at the base of the cliff and skulked on the ridge above—it seemed an affront for which they would all be punished. In the moist, grey summer dawns, George felt that he was walking into a book he had read long ago. The grainy light was a presage. Something was coming—rain, for certain, and a catastrophe.

Opposite the quarry, on the river side of the street, driveways ran down to secretive yards. They belonged to houses that faced the river, with lawns sloping down to the water. A sign warned that the path here was known to flood. But bulky sand- stone foundations and verandas strewn with wicker furniture soothed—these houses were merely domestic, nothing like the foreboding on which they turned their backs.

After Pippa moved in, George often came home from his walk to the smell of coffee. They would drink it and eat Vegemite toast on the loggia, and then George would go to bed. Pippa, too, kept irregular hours. Saving to go overseas, she was juggling waitressing with part-time work in a sports store, and George could never be sure of finding her at home. That was fine; the idea was that they would live independently—at least so it had been settled in George’s mind. In her second year at university, Pippa had been in his tutorial on ‘The Fictive Self’: a Pass student whose effortful work George had pitied enough to bump up to a Credit at the last moment. Not long ago, he had run into her near the Reserve Desk at the library. Her hair lay in flat, uneven pieces as if something had been chewing it. As the year drew to a close, a lot of students looked like that: stripey and savage. She had only one essay left to write, ‘in my whole life, ever,’ said Pippa. A peculiar thing happened: she held out a piece of paper, and George feared he would see a note that began, Help! I am being held prisoner . . .

It was an invitation to a party. Pippa shared a house in Coogee with a tall, ravishing girl called Katrina. When George arrived, Katrina was standing by the drinks table on the side veranda, talking about her cervix.

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