Dunbar by Edward St. Aubyn

 


The aim of the Hogarth Shakespeare project has always been clear: commission an accomplished, well-known contemporary novelist to re-imagine and recast a play by William Shakespeare for a modern audience.

What piqued my own interest in Hogarth Shakespeare was Gillian Flynn on the docket for a retelling of Hamlet. However, it appears Ms. Flynn will not be writing such a novel. This is most unfortunate as I'm confident her rendition of Hamlet would have attracted thousands of eager readers. But, for me, the good news is one of my favorite novelists did write a novel for Hogarth – Jo Nesbø's Macbeth, a terrific retelling I enjoyed reading (I also listened to the audio book narrated by Euan Morton with a Scottish accent).

I also very much enjoyed Bad News, a Patrick Melrose novel by Edward St. Aubyn. Thus I was prompted to give Dunbar a go. I'm glad I did. The British author re-imagines King Lear as corporate thriller, a gripping tale that hooked me from the first pages.

Much of the fun in reading a Hogarth novel is seeing how the author handles the characters and basic plot of the Bard's play. St. Aubyn follows the story faithfully where Lear becomes Dunbar, a Rupert Murdoch-like international media mogul, Megan and Abigail the two older daughters, Florence the younger; Edmund transforms into scummy Dr Bob; Kent becomes Wilson the lawyer and the fool is brilliantly recast as acclaimed TV comedian/alcoholic Peter Walker. I entirely agree with Stephanie Merritt who wrote in her Guardian review that St. Aubyn “transplanted the heart of the story into the present and made it feel remarkably authentic.”

In the first chapter Dunbar, age eighty, is currently shut away in a sanatorium in Northwest England, having been placed there by Megan and Abigail with the aid of nefarious Dr. Bob plying him with drugs to render Dunbar a sometimes raving psychotic, sometimes babbling, sedated dolt. But this time Dunbar has ditched his meds and, with Peter's help, plans their escape. The opening lines:

“We're off our med,” whispered Dunbar.
“We're off our meds/ we're off our heads,” sang Peter, “we're out of our bed/and we're off our meds! Yesterday, he continued in a conspiratorial whisper, “we were drooling into the lapels of our terry cloth dressing gowns, but now we're off our meds! We've spat them out: we've tranquilized the aspidistras! If those fresh lilies you got sent each day...”
“When I think where they come from,” growled Dunbar.
“Steady old man.”
“They stole my empire and now they send me stinking lilies.”

All of the scenes with Peter Walker are laced with such sparkling humor as Peter slides from things like impersonating John Wayne to aping a radio announcer: “Tantrums will be at a maximum tomorrow afternoon as Hurricane Henry moves through the Lake District. Viewers are advised to crawl into a basement and chain themselves to a rock.” Edward St. Aubyn told an interviewer, “I felt I would break with Shakespeare in having a fool who was actually funny whereas the fool in Lear is a torment."

The second chapter switches to the daughters. Sweet, compassionate Florence phones to ask the whereabouts of their father. Forever devious and power-hungry, Abigail says he's in a comfortable sanatorium somewhere in Switzerland but she just can't remember the name at the moment. Following the call, we read:

“God, that girl gets on my nerves,” she said, allowing her dressing gown to slip to the floor as she clambered back into bed. “I sometimes think I could kill her with my bare hands.”
“I wouldn't do that,” says Megan, who was lying on the other side of Dr. Bob, looking dangerously bored. “Get a professional.”

This exchange sets the tone for the entire novel. Both Megan and Abigail are ruthless, vicious sadists who will resort to any means to secure ownership of the Dunbar Trust worth billions. How sadistic? Megan bites Dr. Bob's nipple so ferociously, Dr. Bob has to retreat to the bathroom to sew it back on. Serves you right, you bastard, for being the sadomasochistic lover of these two deranged sisters.

Ah, a corporate thriller. What makes for a riveting page-turner is pacing and drive. St. Aubyn has it all going here: there's the all important board meeting at the end of the week and we're given the unfolding dramas of Dunbar on the run and the sisters & company in alternating chapters. And with each popping back and forth the suspense mounts and mounts again. Wow! I literally couldn't put the book down.

And such exquisitely well-written prose. I'll let Edward St. Aubyn have the last words. This when Dunbar, half frozen, is isolated out in the Lake District:

“Why go on? Why drag his suffering body into the next valley? Why endure the anguish of being alive? Because endurance was what he did, thought Dunbar. He hauled himself up and straightened his body one more time and brought both his fists against his chest, inviting that child-devouring sky-god to do his worst, to rain down information from his satellites, to stream his audiovisual hell of white noise and burning bodies straight into Dunbar's fragile brain, to try to split its hemispheres, if he could, to try to strangle him with a word-noose, if he dared.”

Dunbar. Don't miss it.


British author Edward St. Aubyn, born 1960