Growing up in the Midwest, the highlight of our third grade school year was a trip to Spring Green, Wisconsin. We traveled hours by bus to tour the dwarven homes of Welsh miners and eat delicious pasties. We also took a tour of Taliesin, the home and studio of architect, Frank Lloyd Wright. Little did I imagine, on that third grade tour, that Taliesin and its beautiful organic architecture had a history of scandal and brutal murder.
Appropriate to its subject of a great architect, The Women has a beautiful and unusual structure. The novel is divided into three sections, each describing the residence of Frank and one of his wives/mistresses at Taliesin. The reader encounters these sections in reverse historical order, first learning the tale of Olgiavanna, the woman of Wright's senior years, then moving back in time to learn of Miriam's reign at Taliesin, then going back to when Wright bought the property for, designed, and built Taliesin for its first mistress, Mamhah. The effect of the backwards storytelling is to form a portrait of Frank Lloyd Wright using negative space, defining the man through the progression of his love interests. As in an epic poem or tragic opera, the reader knows most of the plot before it unfolds. The interest isn't so much in what will happen next, as it is how it will take place, and why.
As I neared the end of the first section (Olgiavanna's section), I was eager to read the second (Miriam's) section, to learn what Wright could have done to twist Miriam so, to make her into the monster of their older age. Yet the first paragraph of Miriam's section, written at a time when Miriam and Frank had not yet met, makes it clear that Miriam was twisted from the very start. Her relationship with Wright did not change her even a little bit- for better or worse. So the question then became, what could have happened to Wright to bring him to a point where Miriam seemed a fit companion? And this question drew me into the third section.
In an interview with the New York Times, Boyle discusses why he was drawn to Frank Lloyd Wright (Boyle lives in Wright's first Californian house) and why he is drawn to similar historical figures. Boyle discusses the magnetism of men such as Wright, the way they draw a community of people around them, and the way they draft their own utopias founded on personal ideals. Taliesin, the builders, apprentice architects, house staff, and the women and family Wright gathered to his home, created just such a little utopia. The ideal upon which Wright founded the Taliesin community was this: that convention was for small men, with small minds, and that great men with great minds required a different set of rules, especially in the realm of love and marriage (and also in debt repayment). Throughout the book, Boyle seems to question this ideal, showing that not even Wright's beautiful retreat, or convenient way of ignoring abandoned wives and creditors, could shield him from the consequences of shedding convention.
My only (small) disappointment was with the end of the book, in which the deep probing of this question ceases, abruptly, and the focus of the novel shifts to tell the shocking and gruesome story of the murders at Taliesin. Boyle does give the murderer the motive of his conventional views of women and marriage clashing with the free love ideas of Taliesin. But the murderer is clearly insane, his violence not a consequence of differing world views, but of personal mental imbalance. The murders at Taliesin do not read like justice, or moral consequence, but as brutal and almost random acts of violence. Boyle's decision to end with the murders makes sense- they are the most sensational and exciting events in Wright's life story. And it could be argued that the ending paints the consequence of living in a closed, Utopian community, flaunting the rules of convention. But for me the sheer brutality and personal emotional imbalance of the murderer erases all sense, lets the important and difficult question of the book slide, and instead of concluding the discussion, abandons it to shock and horror.
Regardless, The Women was a pleasure to read. Boyle raised very poignant questions about men of greatness, and about what makes them large, and what makes them small. I had a fantastic time learning more about Frank Lloyd Wright and the home and studio I toured as a child. And I was thrilled by the way in which Boyle chose to write his story. His previous book, Talk Talk, used reference to explore the theme of communication. The Women used structure as its primary narrative device because it was a story about grand ideas, and the difficult reality of bringing those ideas into the world through structure. It is very exciting to follow a writer who has the skill set and flexibility to use the just the right tool to tell each new story.
The Women ranks #539 in Amazon's bestselling paper books, and #422 in Kindle books.
Appropriate to its subject of a great architect, The Women has a beautiful and unusual structure. The novel is divided into three sections, each describing the residence of Frank and one of his wives/mistresses at Taliesin. The reader encounters these sections in reverse historical order, first learning the tale of Olgiavanna, the woman of Wright's senior years, then moving back in time to learn of Miriam's reign at Taliesin, then going back to when Wright bought the property for, designed, and built Taliesin for its first mistress, Mamhah. The effect of the backwards storytelling is to form a portrait of Frank Lloyd Wright using negative space, defining the man through the progression of his love interests. As in an epic poem or tragic opera, the reader knows most of the plot before it unfolds. The interest isn't so much in what will happen next, as it is how it will take place, and why.
As I neared the end of the first section (Olgiavanna's section), I was eager to read the second (Miriam's) section, to learn what Wright could have done to twist Miriam so, to make her into the monster of their older age. Yet the first paragraph of Miriam's section, written at a time when Miriam and Frank had not yet met, makes it clear that Miriam was twisted from the very start. Her relationship with Wright did not change her even a little bit- for better or worse. So the question then became, what could have happened to Wright to bring him to a point where Miriam seemed a fit companion? And this question drew me into the third section.
In an interview with the New York Times, Boyle discusses why he was drawn to Frank Lloyd Wright (Boyle lives in Wright's first Californian house) and why he is drawn to similar historical figures. Boyle discusses the magnetism of men such as Wright, the way they draw a community of people around them, and the way they draft their own utopias founded on personal ideals. Taliesin, the builders, apprentice architects, house staff, and the women and family Wright gathered to his home, created just such a little utopia. The ideal upon which Wright founded the Taliesin community was this: that convention was for small men, with small minds, and that great men with great minds required a different set of rules, especially in the realm of love and marriage (and also in debt repayment). Throughout the book, Boyle seems to question this ideal, showing that not even Wright's beautiful retreat, or convenient way of ignoring abandoned wives and creditors, could shield him from the consequences of shedding convention.
My only (small) disappointment was with the end of the book, in which the deep probing of this question ceases, abruptly, and the focus of the novel shifts to tell the shocking and gruesome story of the murders at Taliesin. Boyle does give the murderer the motive of his conventional views of women and marriage clashing with the free love ideas of Taliesin. But the murderer is clearly insane, his violence not a consequence of differing world views, but of personal mental imbalance. The murders at Taliesin do not read like justice, or moral consequence, but as brutal and almost random acts of violence. Boyle's decision to end with the murders makes sense- they are the most sensational and exciting events in Wright's life story. And it could be argued that the ending paints the consequence of living in a closed, Utopian community, flaunting the rules of convention. But for me the sheer brutality and personal emotional imbalance of the murderer erases all sense, lets the important and difficult question of the book slide, and instead of concluding the discussion, abandons it to shock and horror.
Regardless, The Women was a pleasure to read. Boyle raised very poignant questions about men of greatness, and about what makes them large, and what makes them small. I had a fantastic time learning more about Frank Lloyd Wright and the home and studio I toured as a child. And I was thrilled by the way in which Boyle chose to write his story. His previous book, Talk Talk, used reference to explore the theme of communication. The Women used structure as its primary narrative device because it was a story about grand ideas, and the difficult reality of bringing those ideas into the world through structure. It is very exciting to follow a writer who has the skill set and flexibility to use the just the right tool to tell each new story.
The Women ranks #539 in Amazon's bestselling paper books, and #422 in Kindle books.
