The ultimate unreliable narrator.

Twelve year old Edith lives permanently in her father’s theatre, the only theatre remaining in Edwardian Norwich. She cannot leave for the curse put upon her when she was a baby ruled that if she were ever to leave, the theatre would fall down. Then the person who put the curse on her exploded. (It did happen in a theatre after all.) Now Edith’s got a play of her own in mind that she wants her theatrical staff-family to put on: never having left the theatre, Edith’s done a monumental amount of reading, has learned all there is to know about Norwich (she probably knows more than residents who may traverse it freely) and has learned that a large number of children have gone missing over the years and the culprit is a nasty old woman called Mawther Meg. As her father’s doppelganger understudy confuses her, Mr Measly keeps trying to get her to hug him, her father’s four dead wives’ clothes remain in his rooms, Aunt Bleachy calls her bucket and talks lovingly about her Mop, and father’s new fiancé tries to lure Edith out down the steps of the main entrance (she’s the heiress to the Beetle Spread factory, made of exactly that ingredient) Edith attempts to outwit them all, stay away, and write the truth about what happened to the children.

Edward Carey’s Edith Holler is a bonkers and often confusing book about a young girl’s struggle to be noticed in a way that is full of respect and care, to be listened to. It’s a phenomenal piece of literature and art (Carey’s drawings are included) and is a delight to read. To quote the oft-mentioned-by-Edith Hamlet, ‘To be or not to be’ is precisely the question. Who, what, and, sometimes, where, is Edith? You’ll change your mind very often while reading this book.

On the one hand you have, as stated, an unreliable narrator – it can get incredibly frustrating being in Edith’s head, you’re stuck to her narrative like she’s stuck to her theatre – and on the other hand you have something incredibly true. Confusing? Yes, it is. The thing with Edith Holler – referring to the entire book here rather than the character, though the book and character may be one and the same, who knows? – is that it is wholly theatrical. Edith’s narrative is like a monologue – it is a monologue, just one by a child so, unlike your usual monologue plays, it goes on a bit due to lack of maturity and lack of editing. She does ramble so. (Potentially necessary note: the book as a product of Edward Carey, author, is edited.)

Having written the bracketed sentence it makes sense to now mention the ‘reason’ for this book. This reviewer’s jury is undecided. Possibilities range from mental illness (and across the road is a mental hospital), to child abuse, to a play within a play or play in a book entirely, to puppetry and animation. Where you are indeed with Edith throughout, I think it’s fair to say you may never reach a complete conclusion, but isn’t that just the way with pieces of theatre (and literature) sometimes?

Carey’s theatrical concepts – we should maybe say ‘Edith’s concepts’ because if Edith were told she was a creation of an author originally from Norwich she’ll either self-destruct in fear or depression (that might be appropriate) or, likely as she is with Karl Baedeker the famous guidebook author, become rather obsessed – are both purely his own and taken from various plays. There’s blood and death everywhere, very often, a bit like Shakespeare; there’s children’s toys and dolls and we might be in a doll’s house, like a meta reference to Ibsen. Dolls house – add that to the list of possible ‘reasons’.

On toys, we need mention Carey’s drawings. Carey has included drawings in all of his works and they are always intriguing but I think it’s apt to say they’ve taken on a particularly important role here – pun definitely intended. (Add a child playing with her toys to the list of possibilities.) The drawings present a very strong case for a particular meaning and reason for the whole book, for Edith and everyone else. So too does the fact that, if you visit Carey’s website, you’ll find a printable card theatre with a range of characters included.

I’ll include a single other character of note, though there are more – Edith’s father’s fiancé, whose introduction in the book ushers in a new era and many new questions for the reader. Or are we, perhaps, members of the audience as well?

I’m starting to sound like Edith, I fear, so here’s a related yet different topic: Carey’s necessarily limited portrayal of Norwich is appealing. It is in fact due to the limitations Edith’s life sets on the text that perhaps makes it stand out all the more – there’s a lot of very specific street-to-street facts here, a bit like the guidebook Edith loves (oh this is all getting too meta!) that allow you to know a nice amount of information about this city in its Edwardian form. Norwich too is part and parcel of this text – there are again many inspirations, and literary metaphors abound.

Edith Holler, then – again the book, not the girl, though the girl is probably stomping her feet at me for the twice-now dismissal of her person – is quite the literary feat. The literary (genre) elements, the intertextuality, the use of and grounding in its location, and of course the overriding theatricality and artistic nature of it are superb. Best read alongside reader-led research into the various parts (especially if you do not know Norwich – the nearest this reviewer has been is Lowestoft and that as a child) unless you are well informed already. It’s a great experience.

I was sent this book in order to interview the author.

Publisher: Gallic Books (Belgravia)
Pages: 390
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-913-54778-3
First Published: 31st October 2023
Date Reviewed: 30th August 2024