Edward St. Aubyn’s Dunbar features an aging king of an international media empire, his two faithless older daughters from his failed first marriage, his faithful yet rejected youngest daughter from his second marriage, his precarious mental state, his oldest daughters’ attempts to wrest control of his media empire from him, and his attempts to rescue his empire and resuscitate his relationship with his youngest daughter. Whew: sounds a lot like King Lear, right? True to his brief, St. Aubyn brings King Lear up-to-date by hueing closely but not slavishly to the original plot,

The very first lines of Dunbar set the tone:
“’We’re off our meds,’ whispered Dunbar.
‘We’re off our meds/we’re off our heads,’ sang Peter, we’re out of our beds/ 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!’”

The lines reflect the clever humor typical of Dunbar. The first lines also foreshadow Dunbar’s oddly affecting mixture of pathos, tragedy, and humor. There’s an underlying ambiguity in Dunbar: I was sometimes unsure of whether St. Aubyn was satirizing King Lear, retelling it with occasional humor, or both. Can Dunbar stand on its own as a credible and engaging novel, or is it best read only as a modern reinterpretation of King Lear? The unforgettable denouement of Shakespeare’s Lear borders on camp in St. Aubyn’s Dunbar. Perhaps less Shakespeare and more St. Aubyn would have made Dunbar as a contemporary retelling of Lear more convincing.

Despite these reservations, Dunbar displays St. Aubyn’s signature blend of wonderfully fluid writing, empathy for characters, engaging plotting, and sometimes unexpected humor typical of his Patrick Melrose quartet and Lost for Words. Setting aside Lear, Dunbar is engaging and enjoyable.

Thank you to Hogarth Shakespeare and NetGalley for providing me with Dunbar: King Lear Retold.

Edward St. Aubyn's DUNBAR is a masterful addition to the Hogarth Shakespeare collection. Not only is his adaptation of King Lear surprising and creative, but it is timely and deeply human. Reading DUNBAR is a bit like reading LEAR from inside Lear. St. Aubyn's language is, as always, crisp and evocative, and the novel pulls you along. Just one more chapter before I get up. Okay, maybe one more. Yes, it's that kind of good. Read DUNBAR. You won't be disappointed.

Dunbar is the sixth novel in the Hogarth Shakespeare series, but it was actually my first. (No, I haven't read Hag-Seed.) So it wasn't a desire to keep up with the Hogarth series that drove me to click 'request' on this title - I was drawn to it because for whatever reason I just really, really like King Lear.

The main question on my mind as I was reading was: what exactly is the purpose of a retelling? I don't think there's ever going to be a definitive consensus on this subject, as I'm sure some of us prefer our retellings on the more literal side, while others prefer them to be more abstract. But in general, I'd say that for a retelling to be a success, that the book should pay homage to the original while still adding something new to the story - maybe exploring certain themes present in the original in greater depth.

So with that in mind, how did Dunbar fare? I can't quite make up my mind. Dunbar is a contemporary spin on the tale in which the titular figure is a Canadian media mogul, whose company is currently being usurped by his two vindictive daughters, Abby and Megan. The story begins in medias res, with Henry Dunbar in a care home somewhere outside Manchester, telling the story of how he was betrayed by his two power-hungry daughters, and how he regrets betraying his other, loyal daughter, Florence, by cutting her out of the trust.

While it doesn't follow King Lear to a T, it really only ever deviates by omission. (The subplot with Edgar and Edmund isn't really present at all.) But where it zeroes in on the relationship between Lear and his daughters, Dunbar is an extremely literal retelling. I mean, Regan is actually called Megan. On the one hand, it was done very well, and on the other, there wasn't a whole lot left to the imagination.

Interestingly, one facet of Lear that I thought went unexplored in Dunbar is actually one of its most salient themes: the fraught balance between fate and chaos - how much of our human nature is free will and how much is predetermined by planetary influence? The passages in which Henry Dunbar grapples with his 'madness' I thought were some of the weakest, and they really missed the opportunity to delve into this theme. Instead, this is a very stripped down King Lear, which ostensibly focuses on the reconciliation between Dunbar (Lear) and Florence (Cordelia). It was well done in its own right, but I couldn't help wanting more out of this story.

Dunbar was also my first encounter with Edward St. Aubyn, who admittedly I hadn't even heard of before now, but I have to say that for the most part I was impressed. His writing is lively and clever; I was awed by his intelligence on more than one occasion. I'll readily admit that as someone with essentially zero knowledge of the stock market, a lot of the details of this book went right over my head - but St. Aubyn still kept me engaged, with stakes that consistently felt high even when some of the details escaped me.

Bottom line (insofar as I am able to give a bottom line when I'm as conflicted as I clearly am about this book): as a novel in its own right, Dunbar was strangely riveting and stimulating. As a King Lear retelling, it left a lot to be desired. Nevertheless, I did really enjoy reading this, and was fully prepared to give it 4 stars until its overly hasty conclusion, which unfortunately left me dissatisfied. 3.5 stars, rounded down.

Thank you Netgalley, Hogarth, and Edward St. Aubyn for the advanced copy provided in exchange for an honest review.

I’ve made no secret of my love for the Hogarth Shakespeare series, the Crown Publishing imprint featuring a wide array of literary takes on the works of Shakespeare by contemporary authors. As a lover of both the Bard and contemporary fiction, I am always thrilled when the newest offering crosses my desk.

That newest offering is “Dunbar,” a new look at “King Lear” from the pen of acclaimed author Edward St. Aubyn. It’s a scathingly modern take that still retains much of the pain and power of the original, staying true to Lear’s spirit in some compelling and unexpected ways.

(For the record, this marks the sixth in the series. The previous five are as follows: “A Winter’s Tale” (“The Gap of Time” by Jeanette Winterson), “The Merchant of Venice” (“My Name is Shylock” by Howard Jacobson), “The Taming of the Shrew” (“Vinegar Girl” by Anne Tyler), “The Tempest” (“Hag-Seed” by Margaret Atwood) and “Othello” (“New Boy” by Tracy Chevalier).)

Not so long ago, Canadian media mogul Henry Dunbar was one of the most powerful men on the planet. He has built his company into a multibillion-dollar conglomerate, an empire that is the envy of tycoons the world over.

But things aren’t going so well now.

Thanks to the ongoing machinations and manipulations of his daughters Abigail and Megan (along with an unsubtle pharmaceutical push from his compromised and very greedy personal physician), Dunbar finds himself powerless. The scheme has led to him handing the reins to his two wicked daughters and he himself being confined to a posh English sanitarium called Meadowmeade.

Addled and confused as he is (through no fault of his own), Dunbar knows that he must plan for his escape. His only ally in this quest is a disgraced alcoholic television comedian named Peter, but he knows that he must find his way home.

Meanwhile, Dunbar’s youngest daughter Florence – the only one who truly loves him for him, yet also the one cruelly ousted from his life and estate – is trying desperately to find him, hoping only to set right their relationship and find a way for them to forgive one another for slights both real and imagined.

The race is on as Florence tries to track down her father before her sinister sisters can follow through on their devious plan to completely seize control of the Dunbar Corporation and satisfy their own insatiable hunger for the power that such control could bring them.

But a willingness to betray can swing in many directions. Lies and deceptions begin to pile up as many of the players involved make choices that benefit only themselves – or ultimately no one at all. All as the fate of a mighty empire dangles in the balance.

This is an absolutely brilliant shift of setting; the notion of Lear as media mogul suits the soul of the story to a tee. A business empire operating on such a massive scale is a beautiful analogue to the kingdom of Lear, while the vagaries of modern finance allow for just as much self-interested backstabbing as any tale of royal intrigue.

One of the more uncanny aspects of the Hogarth Shakespeare experience is the exquisite matchmaking that has been done in bringing together play and author … and they’ve absolutely nailed it once again. St. Aubyn has made his name in the realm of family drama, so it’s no surprise that he’s well-suited to reinventing what is perhaps the Bard’s ultimate example of familial dysfunction.

What really makes “Dunbar” sing in narrative terms is the author’s ability to hone in on key personality elements of each character and find ways to twist and/or amplify them. There’s an unwavering intensity to his portrayal of not just events, but reactions to those events. The end result is a story that feels wholly new while still remaining completely recognizable.

It’s incredible to see, quite frankly.

“Lear” is one of Shakespeare’s most widely-read plays. It is also one of his most tragic. It is a tale of both deterioration and renewal – often at the same time. Capturing that tone requires a blend of delicacy and bluntness … a blend that sits front and center in “Dunbar.”

Powerful, compelling family drama of the first order – that’s what Edward St. Aubyn gives us here. It is a churning whirlwind of a book, inviting the reader to tear through pages to an almost compulsive degree. Sharp and smart and exceptionally written, “Dunbar” is yet another outstanding addition to the Hogarth Shakespeare catalog.

“I am even the natural fool of fortune!” – Lear, “King Lear,” Act IV, scene vi

Dunbar is this sixth in the Hogarth Shakespeare series that challenges contemporary authors to reimagine and recontextualize Shakespeare. Edward St. Aubyn brings King Lear to life as a media mogul named Dunbar, somewhat of a Canadian Murdoch.

Dunbar opens with our mogul locked up in a sanitarium spitting out his meds along with his new friend, Peter, a fellow inmate and obvious dipsomaniac with whom he escapes from Meadowmeade. He is soon pursued by his faithless daughters who locked him up with the connivance of their lover, Dr. Bob. Dr. Bob’s pharmacopeia is in frequent use, but his masterstroke was inducing a psychic break that led to Dunbar’s commitment. Dunbar’s youngest daughter, Florence is also searching for him, she loves him and hopes to rescue him.

There is a manic and often sardonic humor in Dunbar that helps the story escape the bleak bitterness of the sisters and Dunbar, all malevolent people. That humor is why I thought St. Aubyn was an inspired choice. After all, King Lear has nothing on the Patrick Melrose family and those stories sparkle.



So why am I disappointed? I guess I wish St. Aubyn had taken more liberties. It is so obviously Lear. I loved how well Margaret Atwood’s Hag-Seed took us into The Tempest in a way that did not replicate the play. Dunbar is too literal, too close to Lear. I wanted a story inspired by, not just moved into a different milieu.

Then there are the conspirators. So one-dimensional. Worse, like B-movie villains, they openly discuss their machinations in great detail. It’s cartoonish or like something from a seventeenth-century play. The only saving grace is that St. Aubyn can write with manic humor. The scenes with Peter who is the wise fool and friend to the powerless Dunbar are brilliant. The rest is not.

I received an advance e-galley of Dunbar from the publisher through NetGalley.

Dunbar is Edward St. Aubyn's take on Shakespeare's King Lear. While Aubyn succeeded at mapping Shakespeare's plot to modern times, I wish he had added more depth to the story's evil characters - particularly Abigail and Megan. I've only read one Hogarth Shakespear book before (Hag-Seed by Atwood). In my opinion, Atwood did a better job at retelling Shakespeare's story than Aubyn. But I would still recommend Dunbar to Shakespeare's lovers and the Hogarth Shakespear fans.

Book Review – Dunbar by Edward St. Aubyn

Edward St. Aubyn’s Dunbar is the latest addition to Hogarth Press’s Shakespeare project that commissions prominent authors to write contemporary novels based rather loosely on the bard’s plays.

Margaret Atwood, Howard Jacobson, Ann Tyler and Jo Nesbo among others have already had their takes on the plays. In Dunbar St. Aubyn takes a crack at King Lear, and turns out a rollicking social comedy that is hard to put down.

St. Aubyn’s Lear is Henry Dunbar, an 80 year old Canadian media mogul who is beginning to lose his grip on reality and on his multi-billion dollar “empire” which his two oldest daughters Abby and Megan, whom Henry frankly describes as “monsters,” are about to depose him from.

The sisters, in cahoots with Henry’s unethical doctor, have shipped him off to a sanitarium in Britain’s Lake District, not letting the younger sister, the steadfast Florence, know where he is.

Abby, Megan and Florence stand in for Shakespeare’s Goneril, Regan and Cordelia. There’s also A Fool in the person of Peter, an alcoholic former television comedian who helps Henry escape from the sanitarium and leaves him in a snowstorm half-mad and wailing into the wind.

Peter spouts nonsense rhymes and does funny voices but he’s really the only one apart from Florence who is straight with Henry.

St Aubyn has made his reputation on the five books in the Patrick Melrose series that sees his semi-autobiographical alter ego through four decades of life in lively satirical style. In those novels he has also peered closely at the world of the very wealthy with withering wit.


Dunbar has some lovely comic set pieces, such as Abby’s memory of hunting:

“She had hunted by helicopter before— gazelle in Arabia, wild bull in New Zealand, hog in Texas— it was something that ostentatious people kept thrusting on her as a special kind of treat, but to be honest it was absolutely deadly being trapped in one of those swaying, shuddering machines, wearing headphones and a pair of goggles while spewing hundreds of empty shells a minute into the pristine countryside below. It made one feel like such a litterbug.”

But there are also scenes of great cruelty and violence and not a few murders. The plot about taking control of Henry’s company gets a bit byzantine, with crosses and double crosses. It shows the treachery of the super wealthy in almost moustache twirling melodrama, but it adds to the fun and the pathos.

The plot and much of the dialogue are anything but subtle but the real emotions and sadness of Henry’s life are nuanced and touching despite the comic goings on.

Dunbar by Edward St. Aubyn, Random House Penguin, 256pp.

This retelling of King Lear for the Hogarth Shakespeare series sets the tragedy in the context of a media empire. After disinheriting his youngest daughter, Henry Dunbar has given her shares and control of the mega-corporation to his other two daughters. With the help of a doctor on their payroll, they've had their father committed to a private sanatorium in England's Lake District. Dunbar manages to escape with the help of a fellow “patient.” He sets out into the mountains against the winter elements with the opposing factions of his family/corporation racing against each other to find him. His youngest daughter wants to rescue him. His older daughters want to make sure that he is locked up so tightly that he will never escape again.

The story has the tragic ending one would expect for a King Lear retelling. It's pretty obvious that St. Aubyn has used Rupert Murdoch as his model for Dunbar. In fact, it's so obvious that it overshadows the parallel to King Lear.

This review is based on an electronic advance readers copy provided by the publisher through NetGalley.

Lear as Henry Dunbar, a contemporary media mogul in his 80's who yes, turns over his business to his elder, corrupt daughters and disowned the youngest who loved him. The portrayal of Dunbar's madness is worth the read. The sisters seemed over the top, but so were the originals...Worth the read.

This was a tough one for me because although Lear is not my favorite of Shakepeare's plays, Jane Smiley's A Thousand Acres is one of my favorite books. It's not fair to compare the three= St. Aubyn had a mission to rewrite Lear for the 21st century and this is his vision. Abby and Megan are as rotten as Goneril and Regan and Florence is an able stand in for Cordelia. Wilson is a man for this time and Peter, well, Peter is more than the fool was. That said, I just didn't like Henry, which I know is sort of the point. I liked the translation to a media mogul, which of course had me thinking of a certain real mogul. On balance, it's worth a read and while it might not be a relaxing enjoyable ride, it will remind you of Shakepeare and might send you back to the original -although in my case I hit Wikipedia. Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC.

Published by Crown Publishing/Hogarth on Oct. 3, 2017

Dunbar is part of the Hogarth Shakespeare series of novels that are — based on? inspired by? completely unrelated to? — a Shakespeare play. The publisher’s website uses the word “retelling” but that isn’t the most accurate descriptor, based on the novels in the series that I’ve read.

Dunbar shares some elements with King Lear (descent into madness, bequeathing a kingdom to two daughters while ignoring a third, family strife), but the story is more comedy than tragedy. The kingdom is a corporate empire; battles are waged by trading firms and corporate raiders rather than armies. Since no author is going to improve on Shakespeare, I think it best to view Dunbar as “inspired by” Lear and then ignore the inspiration entirely, reading the novel as a literary work that stands on its own. From that perspective, I give Edward St. Aubyn credit for writing a story that is amusing and entertaining if not particularly deep.

Henry Dunbar is off his meds, but only because he spit them into a plant next to his institutional bed. Dunbar is a media mogul, perhaps the world’s most powerful person, but his haughty daughters Abigail and Megan are making him take a “lovely long holiday” at a psychiatric hospital. Their goal is to take the Dunbar Trust private again, giving them control over the vast media organization. Dunbar’s daughter Florence, half-sister of Abigail and Megan, is kept in the dark about her father’s location as well as the future of the family business.

Complicit in Henry’s institutionalization is Dr. Bob, with whom both Megan and Abigail are enjoying sadistic sex, and who has been promised a seat on the Board and a healthy salary. But Dr. Bob is even more Machiavellian than the sisters, setting up a troika of self-interested villains for the reader to root against.

Not that Dunbar deserves the reader’s cheers. Dunbar might deserve a measure of pity, but his lifelong narcissism is largely to blame for his current state of lonely emptiness. His only friend (he’s betrayed all his past friends) is newly acquired, another patient who has gone off his meds and who facilitates Dunbar’s escape. But the friend only wants to escape to the nearest pub, while Dunbar (as always) has grander ambitions.

St. Aubyn uses dry British wit to make Dunbar the kind of modern family drama that exposes the dark side of each relevant family member. The two evil daughters only have a dark side, and St. Aubyn exploits their pettiness and self-absorption to substantial comedic effect, while never quite making them convincing characters. Characters in comedies are often exaggerated to make a point, but one downside to turning a Shakespearean tragedy into a comedy is that the story’s tragic aspects demand true villains and a truly tragic hero, not caricatures.

The plot involves a good bit of corporate intrigue, back-stabbing, and betrayal as various forces vie for control of Dunbar Trust. The plot’s focus, however, is on family intrigue. The ending abruptly veers toward darkness (St. Aubyn didn’t have much choice about that if he wanted to do even the most abstract retelling of Lear), but the darkness is incongruous, given that the story is played for laughs until that point. Nor is Dunbar a particularly meaty novel, despite its themes of betrayal. As a comedy, however, the story succeeds, and St. Aubyn’s prose is always a pleasure to read.

RECOMMENDED

I did not get very far into this retelling of King Lear. It's not for me. I had high hopes since King Lear is my favorite play by Shakespeare.
I was fine with the opening chapter, but the bedroom scene was too dark and perverted for my tastes. It struck me as an hyperbolic interpretation of Lear's daughters.
Too dark, too kinky for me.
Thank you for the opportunity to read this book.

Genre: Adult Literary Fiction
Pub. Date: Oct. 3, 2017
Publisher: Crown Publishing

This is my third Hogarth Press novel. Hogarth Press was founded in 1917 by Virginia and Leonard Woolf. In recent years Hogarth Press launched the Hogarth Shakespeare project in which much admired novelists are retelling the Bard’s stories in contemporary times. “Dunbar” is the re-write of “King Lear” by Edward St. Aubyn. I confess, before this novel I have never heard of Aubyn, though he is the author of eight novels and in 2006 was nominated for the Booker Prize for “Mother’s Milk.” Other than “Vinegar Girl,” which is based on “The Taming of the Shrew” I have not read any other of Shakespeare’s plays. I did see the 1983 film version of “King Lear” with Laurence Olivier. And like most, I am familiar that the play is about an aging King who invites disaster when he steps down, and gives his power to his two corrupt daughters while rejecting his third loving and honest daughter. In other words, they were the original dysfunctional family.

What's the modern version of a 16th-century kingdom? Why, a corporate empire, of course! With CEO, Henry Dunbar (Lear) written as a Rupert Murdoch-like multi-billionaire. In “Dunbar” the evil daughters/sisters are plotting a hostile takeover of the company, and have their sedated dad placed in a sanatorium while they prepare for the takeover. In the interim, the youngest loving daughter, who has been treated unfairly by her dad, is trying to find out where he is because she is suspicious of her elder sisters. She alone is worried about her father. We first meet Dunbar while he is in the sanitarium, where his fellow inmate, a former comedian, is plotting their escape. The comedian can only speak when he is doing exaggerated voice imitations of others. His mania is exhausting to read. I personally found the similarities between the novel’s comedian and Robin Williams, way too close for comfort. I am not sure if that is the author’s intent, but that is how I read the character. The two do escape. Now the daughters both good and bad are in hot pursuit of finding their first.

Moral of the story is that one cannot have the luxuries of living like a king without the responsibilities. The parallels of the famous play and this novel are excellently drawn. The most powerful part of “Dunbar” is his emotional awakening and reconciliation with his youngest daughter. So when tragedy hits, and she dies, I found myself feeling for her father. That felt real. As did the Dunbar character, even though his drugged brain read like an acid trip which was hard to keep up with. But the good, ever-suffering youngest daughter is so saccharine she got on my nerves. Everyone has at least one mean bone in their body. The other two sadistic, nymphomaniac daughters who have a taste for sexual perversion and their henchmen, are also too one sided to be believed. These two characters struck me as comic villains. For some reason, I see them as an R rated “Cruella De Vil” from the Disney movie, “101 Dalmatians.” The author has keen wit using black humor throughout the story. There are some good laughs for a tragedy. Still, I did not feel that “Dunbar” could stand as a novel in its own right. If I didn’t know I was reading a re-telling of one of the Bard’s plays I would not have finished the book. For these reasons, I am a bit disappointed in this latest Hogarth Press. Still, I admire the author’s courage to take on Shakespeare. I recommend you read this one only if you are addicted to this Shakespeare project.

I have been keeping up with the Hogarth Shakespeare series (the publisher commissioned authors to choose a Shakespeare play and write an novel retelling/update/modernization). The results, for me, have been quite mixed. This retelling of King Lear by Edward St. Aubyn was a fairly straightforward update of the original, although the order of plot was reversed. In Dunbar, the patriarch is a successful CEO who begins the action as a patient in a mental facility. The lead up events in this version occurred prior to the opening and are referred to as such. Like the original play, the tragedy just keeps on giving in this retelling. Overall, I didn't find the reordering or resetting enough to bring some modern interest for me in this play.

Who would King Lear be if he lived in the 21st century? St. Aubyn has come up with the definitive answer. Lear would be media mogul Henry Dunbar, a man who owns television stations, radio stations and movie studios, a puppet master on the world stage with access to every individual in every home in almost every country in the world. And what if a man with so much power to influence people and governments goes mad?

Henry Dunbar’s story begins in an exclusive “rest” home where he has been placed by his two eldest daughters after exhibiting dangerously erratic behavior. Dunbar tries to make sense of his fall from power by repeating his story to his fool, a broken-down alcoholic comedian named Peter Walker who has the talents of Robin Williams to switch personalities. It was a mistake, Dunbar admits, not to follow his lawyer’s advice. Charles Wilson adamantly opposed Dunbar’s plan to turn over titular control of his empire to his daughters. But, Dunbar countered, why should his estate be devastated with death duties when he could easily prevent this. His daughters technically would hold the majority of shares but they would follow his directions. Dunbar would still be in charge and have all the trappings of a CEO, just without the title. What could possibly go wrong?

Megan and Abigail are, if anything, more ruthless than their Shakespearean counterparts Regan and Goneril. Lear’s daughters may have driven that father to madness by their actions; Dunbar’s daughters actually caused his psychotic incidents with the aid of mind-altering drugs handily injected by their father’s doctor and their lover, Dr Bob. It was easy for Dr. Bob to have him committed when Dunbar was found in a hollow tree on Hampstead Heath talking to himself after causing a disturbance on Hampstead High Street. And, of course, the exclusive care facility followed the doctor’s directives to keep him on his meds.

All this is explained in flashbacks and it is Peter the comedian/fool who suggests they escape to the outside world. Crafty Dunbar did manage to sequester one credit card and they flee to the wintry wilds of the Lake District. When Peter cannot be lured from a pub, Dunbar must survive on his own. Alone and afraid that he really is losing his mind, he may not howl but he does mutter, “Please don’t let me go mad….Please, please don’t let me go mad.”

The novel easily parallels the play with perfect 21st century sensibility and, importantly, does not force the comparison. The novel stands on its own for the reader who has never heard of King Lear. The characters are true to their counterparts. Megan does not put anyone’s eyes out but she does commit a barbarous act against an innocent. Regan does something that explains a mystery that Shakespeare left hanging. Cordelia rejects her share of the inheritance because she would rather live with her American husband in Montana, instead either New York or London. The lawyer Charles Wilson is a combination of Lear’s faithful Kent and Gloucester. Doctor Bob is Edmund but no relation to Gloucester. And the ending is an epic battle, not between countries, but between two global corporations who control what the world sees and hears. Epic, indeed!

St. Aubyn has done a magnificent job in adapting a magnificent play.

I received a review copy of this book from Netgally.com.

The latest book from Edward St. Aubyn could be described as “Shakespeare meets Tom Sharpe.” The author of the Patrick Melrose novels has taken some of the weight out of “King Lear” and shaped it into a modern tale of financial skullduggery.

“Dunbar” packs a lot of action (some violent, some sexual, some farcical) into a short space. While you can’t fault the plot (Shakespeare!), you might wish that he’d added in a bit more depth to the characters.

This is the second novel I’ve read of the Hogarth Shakespeare series. While I have a third waiting on my shelf, I might not pick it up. They have the feel of an upper level university course assignment. That said, St. Aubyn’s dark imagination and humour shines through the exercise while he piles up the bodies in true Shakespeare faction.



https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2111838893?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1

Edward St. Aubin's writing has a way of messing with your head. You think: Did he really write that? Did I understand it? Is this what he meant to...? And then you just relax and enjoy the ride. Biting satire is like that -- first you have to figure out whom is the target, then once it becomes hilariously clear you snicker meanly to the last page.

I hadn't read any St. Aubin since the Patrick Melrose stories, but Dunbar was intriguing. In the beginning it reminded me of the retirement home section of David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas -- misunderstood old dinosaurs up to no good. But it became more than that, especially when you meet Dunbar's distasteful family. HIghly recommend.

The Hogarth Shakespeare series has brought me some of my favorite books over the past few years. Their choice of a diverse range of prominent authors to reimagine Shakespearian stories has provided a stunning collection of contemporary novels. I have enjoyed every one of them for their creativity in meeting the challenge the publisher set for them, and I have been looking forward to the release of DUNBAR for some time.

St. Aubyn's "spin" on King Lear was compelling in its tragedy, but is my least favorite book in the Hogarth Shakespeare series. There was not a page that didn't prepare and propel the reader towards the tragic conclusion of the story---so, yes, the author was very effective in creating a mood and keeping the reader engaged in the drama. But, the evil sisters and their entourage struck me as comic villans and I expected more of a writer of St. Aubyn's stature.

The artist's device of using a hostile takeover of a powerful international business could have been a very effective plot, but I felt that the book never reached its potential.

NetGalley provided me with a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

I've been meaning to read the Hogarth Shakespeare series since Winterson's was published but I'm kind of glad that the first one I read was Dunbar. St. Aubyn's modern re-imagining of King Lear as a media mogul ousted from his company is timely and so perfect given our recent economic downturn. The book is darkly comedic and heartbreaking in turns, capturing a good sense of the original play without being slavish to the original. While at times I wished for something a little more reflective or thought-provoking, especially during Dunbar's escape over the moors, I still enjoyed the machinations of all the players.

I enjoyed the beautiful writing in this short, delightful, funny story of some seriously evil sisters, an aging billionaire patriarch, and plots to take over his empire - King Lear retold. Full review to come closer to publishing date. Thanks to Netgalley and Random House for an advance copy in exchange for an honest review.