A Leap by Anna Enquist

10 Jul 2009

A Leap

Anna Enquist

The Toby Press, Paperback, 84 pages, ISBN-13 978 1 59264 258 8, Price: £7.99

Rebecca Hampson

Like her early novels, the pieces in Enquists’ A Leap make tangible use of her academic background in both music and psychology. A collection of five monologues, most of which were commissioned individually for performance, A Leap brings to life the connection between person and place and the search for home within adverse circumstances. Indeed, within many of the monologues the setting feels like a second or third character; Rotterdam, the common factor between all five monologues, is full of pride amidst the bombs that fall as separated lovers Cato and Leendert search for the safety of the other, and as a doctor fights for the lives of more than just the city’s people.

Almost all the characters in A Leap are on a quest for self-realisation. Part I, Alma, reads like a frenzied score of somewhat confused but vivid emotions, approaching its end with so much momentum that the effect is vehemently anti-climactic. Nonetheless, with this monologue alone Enquist proves her considerable skill for story-telling. Depicting Alma Mahler, wife of the great composer, we see a woman tragically subservient to her husband’s genius, making her last doomed reach towards an independent life for herself and for her music. The longest piece in the collection, Alma is a conflicted masterpiece that manages, like an orchestra captivating until the very last note, to enthral until the last direction on the page.

After such an exquisite start, the remaining monologues tend to pale in comparison, to varying degrees. Mendel Bronstein, the second in the collection, presents a deeply poetic narrative, but one that feels distracted and somewhat lacking in flow. It is hard to read and perhaps less memorable than other pieces in A Leap, but despite this the narrative style skilfully reflects the ill-fated confusion of its title character. More forgettable still is the final offering in the collection, the more modern …and I am Sara about a young woman in a sort of quarter-life crisis, at odds with her family and finally, like Alma Mahler, making a last-chance grab at the independence she desires. The piece drags, however, and feels confused and unsure of itself. A jarring ending for a collection of monologues that otherwise seems to have found a loose but satisfying flow, …and I am Sara is undoubtedly the let down of the group, and the difference between a great book and a good one.

Overall it’s a worthy collection, impressive in its richly evocative narratives and achingly vivid characters. The grief we feel for the ill-fated lovers Cato and Leendert, shocks into a darker sympathy as we move into The Doctor and witness the sickening effects of war on everyday people; these emotions are all expertly conjured by Enquist and made all the more acute by the monologue form. A Leap is a good and enjoyable introduction to Enquist’s work for those interested in her novels, but perhaps not quite a must-read.