‘The Butcher’s Hook’ by Janet Ellis

Book Reviews

The Butcher's HookReviewed by Michael Minor

Primarily known as a presenter in British radio and television, Janet Ellis has recently turned her talents to writing. Her first novel, The Butcher’s Hook, is a considerable accomplishment, especially as it marks a significant departure from her previous role as a media presenter. Ellis’ prose is rich with sardonic wit and resonant metaphor. However, the incongruous acceleration towards a thrilling, but pat, resolution leaves the sense that Ellis has missed an opportunity. As the novel begins, it seems that it will breathe multidimensional life into a setting that, according to her notes, was chosen “because nothing much happened.” Although much of this novel embraces the merits of exploring this relatively uneventful setting, Ellis drifts into what could rightly be called melodrama.

Set over a period of weeks in 1763 London, the novel is delivered from the perspective of its sharp-tongued protagonist, Anne Jaccob. She is trapped by the realities of being an upper middle class, nineteen-year-old woman seemingly destined to marry the snobbish and entitled Simeon Onions, a man old enough to be her father. Meanwhile, she has suddenly become infatuated with the butcher’s apprentice, Fub, who delivers meat to the Jaccob household. Hook sets out to wryly depict Anne’s rebellion against strict Georgian structures of class and gender.

Anne is sympathetically drawn. The opening chapters reveal that her prickly exterior and cynical worldview are justified. The only relationship that contains any selfless love in this novel is between Anne and her young brother, who dies at a young age, leaving Anne jaded. This death marks the end of Anne’s ability to give of herself freely—at least, until she encounters Fub. What’s more, Mr. Jaccob’s dissatisfaction with his wife and daughter is plunged to new depths by the loss of his only son. But Anne has still deeper reasons for her cynicism: she is the victim of sexual abuse at the hands of her tutor, Dr. Edwards.

Not being one for self pity, and recognizing that she is “too cunning for her own good,” Anne responds by pursuing her desire for Fub and letting no one stand in her way. Anne’s actions can be read as both cunning and sociopathic—at one point, she notes “how strangely easy it is to lie.” Unfortunately, the potential for Ellis to meaningfully comment on topics such as gender and class is squandered by the novel’s conclusion. The novel could have presented a more enticing societal critique if Anne’s response to being forced into an arranged and loveless marriage was not so incongruous. At one point Anne thinks that she will exact her revenge for having to wed Onions by employing the “ugliest servants [she] can find,” thereby depriving him any pleasure in his inevitable infidelities. Suffice it to say that neither Anne nor Ellis is patient enough to see this subtle revenge accomplished by the end of the novel. Instead, the highly dramatic ending overwhelms Anne’s potential to bear witness to the injustices she seems poised to face.

Ellis may shy away from substantive social critique, but her figurative language shines brightly enough to dispel most shadows from the book. Levener, the butcher, calls Anne a “young veal.” Later, in the throes of passion, Fub continues in a similar vein: “you need flaying.” Fub comes into particular focus when he is described as “a crude drawing of a man.” Not to be outdone by his lover’s gift for precise description, Fub calls their love “chewy glue” as opposed to the much more common “sugary” sort. Anticipating meeting her lover, Anne says, “each maddening second hangs like dripping treacle.” She also claims Dr. Edwards’ voice is as “unwanted as the taste of bile.” Unsavoury though many of these comparisons may be, they are uncommonly vivid and fitting.

The witty repartee of this novel is also entertaining. In one of Anne’s keen internal dialogues, she notes the particular character of her father’s disapproval, which “wets so much and stinks when it dries.” As she mocks the vicar for leaving much of his food on his apparel she thinks that he will be “almost edible himself by nightfall.” Ellis also demonstrates her linguistic gymnastic abilities as she puts profoundly sappy dialogue into the mouth of would-be suitor Simeon Onions as he attempts to woo Anne: “How Venus must weep to know such a creature exists.”

The Butcher’s Hook is also adeptly structured. Ellis weaves choice lines from John Donne into the novel to act as epigraphs for each of the three sections. These epigraphs help synthesize an already coherent plot. While many books of this length contain needless or slack passages, Ellis makes each scene count. She makes decisive and appropriate transitions between the central action of the novel and the various subplots that illuminate Anne’s character. She also uses unlikely, but resonant, symbolism, such as the titular butcher’s hook, to great effect.

Ellis’s novel is remarkable for its literary depth and range. However, Ellis prioritizes the reader’s titillation above serious engagement with social issues. In a sense, The Butcher’s Hook is like its protagonist: clever, but heartless.


Anansi International │216 pages│$22.95│paperISBN # 978-1487000998

Post a Comment

Your email address is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

Contributor

Michael Minor


Michael Minor is an English instructor in the Inner-City Social Work Program at the University of Manitoba, where he has recently completed his PhD in decolonial poetry. He writes poetry, songs, and academic essays. He lives in Winnipeg with his partner and their child.