The Dark Flood Rises: A Novel Hardcover – February 14, 2017

The Dark Flood Rises is not a novel I should have liked. It is mostly tell, not show. The few direct quotes are buried in long paragraphs of narration. The point of view hops from character to character, sometimes two or three times in a single page. Once in a while, an omniscient narrator intrudes in the manner of a nineteenth century novel. None of the characters experience a dramatic arc unless death and increasing decrepitude qualify for internal transformation. All have had successful careers, with multiple published books among them, and they all know one another, proving again that England must be a very small country. The author has an intimidating vocabulary; not even the online dictionaries I checked knew several of the words, at least not in the context they were used. And there are some dreadful examples of overwriting. (E.g., describing the cessation of a series of earthquakes: “the surges of time’s troubled fountains have abated.”)Yet I did enjoy it as a meditation on aging, although it began with a depressing thesis: "Her inspections of evolving models of residential care and care homes for the elderly have made her aware of the infinitely clever and complex and inhumane delays and devices we create to avoid and deny death, to avoid fulfilling our destiny and arriving at our destination." Indeed, the old in the book either lie moribund in a sybaritic antechamber to death (tastes differ, of course: for one it’s neon-colored meals in chain hotels, for another it’s drinking only the best wines) or divert themselves with trivial intellectual projects (the shape of clouds or deceased wife’s sisters fiction.) The young (albeit, not too much younger) at least work on social improvement (a doctor in Africa, a filmmaker documenting the European immigration crisis, a climate change activist), yet it’s not clear their projects are different from their parents’, they just have an expanded range to work in. I don’t know if the author intended it, but I was left with the impression that all humans spend our lives in the denial of death. It's more obvious for the elderly, not just that they are closer to the inevitability of death, but they physically (and often mentally) have less room to play in.Despite lapses, the novel is beautifully written. (E.g., “He is as indistinct as water is in water.") The discursive internal dialogues of each character reveal the extremely intelligent and sophisticated mind that conjured them.

What a joy to read this latest book by one of my favorite authors. As with her other books, Drabble creates a universe populated with numerous characters who all share a long backstory and mutual history. Her writing is so complex, so dense, her characters so well conceived, it requires a reader's attention, and the rewards are many. And as with many of her other books, there is a personal connection, an observation of the present condition. Here, Dame Drabble, herself 77 years old, looks at the so-called "golden years," and creates characters who are (mostly) inhabitants of that ironically named time of life, with humor, compassion, and clear-eyed realism. What house do you want to die in? Fran just ignores her advanced age, living in a low-rent "tower" where the elevator is far from reliable, she spins around Britain visiting old friends and facilities, doesn't let the rotten weather keep her from her rounds, and prepares dinners for Claude, an ex-husband who is enjoying this time with a complacent cat and Callas. Ivor and Bennett, a gay couple of 50 years' duration, chose the Canary Isles for their final days, and Josephine is still teaching literature to elderly students. There is so much vibrancy in this book, it's wonderful to see Drabble hasn't lost her touch, and makes me want to return to The Radiant Way trilogy, read over 30 years ago, her examination of life in the Thatcher years.

As a 70-something myself, I found this book to be simultaneously both discomfiting and comforting especially in its treatment of the thoughts and preoccupations of people in the “twilight” of their lives. Drabble has a way of being irreverent about life and death while honoring the mystery and unpredictability of them at the same time. Her character studies in this book are complex and delicately rendered. The end result for me was to feel in good company and less fearful about my own future. Never having read Drabble before, I am interested now in exploring more of her work to see if she strikes a chord in me with other subjects.

I wanted to like this book more than I did. The writing is so good. But I realized that I was having to push myself to keep returning to it, which is very unusual for me. Can't really put my finger on it, but in the end, just found it boring.

Margaret Drabble writes beautifully about aging, as she does everything, but this book will probably only appeal to the aged, especially aged Anglophiles.

This treasure of a novel was recommended by a friend and I am very grateful for the discovery. It's a meditation on growing old but it abounds with Dame Drabble's zest for infusing the most painstaking details with a gloriouspanoply of descriptive brio. Her protagonist Fran Stubbs is an expert on elderly housing and drives obsessively around England as a kind of extinction burst before she dies. Along the way she connects with her ex-husband, her morose son and headstrong daughter as well as a large cast of friends and miscellaneous characters who come vividly alive in the magic of her prose. There is no propulsive plot, only the miniscule heroism of a woman facing the dark flood of mortality (for herself and Britain) and yet "carrying on" to the unbowed finish.

Margaret Drabble has written accessible yet literary fiction throughout her storied career. THE DARK FLOOD RISES continues in the same vein. However, this time her stakes are at an all-time high and horror mixes with comedy and human interest in equal measure. I won't give away the plot.Passionately recommended.

Once you get into this book it is charming and very funny. Drabble's humour is sly and sort of creeps up on you. I thought the beginning was a bit slow and then I was hooked.

Margaret Drabble is my favourite author, but I prefer her early novels. The later ones just don't grip me in the same way, and this one is no exception.

Very readable but disappointed.

I really liked this book. It's rare to find a novel starring old women as the central characters. More, please! And the travel insights were delightful.