This was a brilliant read. As soon as I started reading this book I just knew I was going to love it. Highly recommended

I'm still trying to get my head around John Banville as a writer. The first novel of his that I read was The Sea, which I remember being lyrical and dreamy; then I turned to Dr Copernicus, which I found frustratingly dense. This new historical novel shares elements of both those other books, blending a poignant sense of loss with high style; but it also has other strong influences. Banville isn't really writing as himself here. As I read more, I came to realise that Mrs Osmond is actually an ambitious tribute, elevated fan-fiction if you like, in which Banville imagines how Henry James's Portrait of a Lady might have continued. The titular Mrs Osmond is Isabel, née Archer, and we first meet her as she returns to London in what might fairly be called the darkest period of her life.

I'm going to hold up my hands right now and confess it: I've never read any of Henry James's novels. I tried of course, when I was much younger, but Henry and I just never had a spark. Now I should probably have another go, especially because I'm agog to learn more about Isabel. We meet her on a station platform, amid steam and smuts and coal-smoke, freshly returned from her cousin's deathbed at Gardencourt and thinking rather grimly about her imminent return to Rome. For Rome is where Isabel now lives; Rome is where her husband is; and yet Rome has become a place of such heartbreak and misery that Isabel shudders to contemplate it. She spends her few days in London cautiously, quietly, trying to gather herself after her too-intense bombardment of grief, so that she can decide how best to proceed.

This is very much a contemplative book. Isabel doesn't do much: the joy of the story is in seeing the way her memories shift and shape themselves, and how she begins to find a new sense of her own strength and boundaries. She visits an acquaintance, Miss Janeway, and her old friend Henrietta Stackpole, both of them firm, fierce women who believe in the vital importance of female agency. Yet these encounters leave Isabel with awkward questions about who she has become. What has her marriage left her? Some shreds of remembered happiness, true. But it has also shrunk her: this dazzling, vivacious, brilliant young woman has frittered herself away on an undistinguished man, and she now knows how deeply her friends have regretted her sacrifice. Still thinking, Isabel leaves for Paris, where she finds herself faced with other phantoms from her past. And then, at last, she must decide what to do. How will she respond to the crushing news she received just before her departure - that her husband is the former lover of Madame Merle, the very woman who befriended Isabel and facilitated the marriage? Will she sink back down into despondency and silence? Or is Isabel Osmond now strong enough to take her fate into her own hands and attempt to forge a better future for herself?

When I wrote about Dr Copernicus, I openly admired Banville's skill as a stylist and that remains true here. The book revels in old-fashioned formulations and extremely obscure words that delighted me like a child faced with unfamiliar sweets: 'vastation'; 'crepitant'; 'matutinal'; 'hebetudinous'. Somehow these words take a broader concept and render it down into a compact, appealing form; yet Banville also expands the most mundane of moments into poetic flight. A hand offered in greeting is 'cool outside with an impression of brittleness within, like a bundle of twigs bound up in a vine leaf'. And he is at his most voluble in those moments, central to the novel's theme of self-discovery, in which Isabel ponders what has happened to her and how she can best confront it:

Letting her eyes close, Isabel dipped into the dark behind her lids as if into the mossy coolness of a forest pool. Yet she could not linger long, for in that darkness she was sure to meet the padding, yellow-eyed implacable creature that was her conscience. Strange: she it was who had been wronged, grievously wronged, by her husband, and by a woman whom she had considered, if not her ally, then not her enemy either, yet it was she herself who felt the shame of the thing. Or was her failure to live up to her cousin Ralph's hopes and expectations - reasonable hopes, legitimate expectations - was that the thing the trace of which the beast from the forest was following? She did not know, she could not think...

That gives you a sense of the book's casual, meandering style. Some sentences are positively Proust-like. The actual plot could be compressed into a short story and yet there's something rather lovely about wandering through the paths of Isabel's mind, watching her growing stronger as a person and reflecting on what (I presume) had happened in A Portrait of a Lady. I gelled with this book much more easily than I did with Dr Copernicus and Banville has actually made me want to seek out Henry James now - partly to find out Isabel's backstory and partly to see how closely he managed to approximate James's style. And yet, I stress, don't be put off if you haven't read A Portrait of a Lady: as I said, I haven't. This isn't (just) some literary in-joke: it stands on its own two sturdy feet as a tale of a woman quietly facing up to her past and softly, defiantly, thoroughly planning to put things right. 

I don't want to say too much in case this comes across as a spoiler, but I was pleased that Banville continued to give Isabel agency and independence right up to the very end, where other authors might have taken the strongly-signposted way out. In doing that, I felt that he respected her as a character, not just as a (rather tragic) heroine. Bravo Banville. And kudos for embarking on such an extravagant, rather mad idea.

For the review, please see my blog:
https://theidlewoman.net/2018/06/18/mrs-osmond-john-banville/

Beautifully written but extremely dense - you need to be in a literary mood to enjoy this novel. Everything is finely drawn, the characters, their dialogue, the scenery. But to get a sense of the characters you need to wade through all of that, and what you find, you may not like.
I hadn't read any of this authors work before and I think, next time, I will choose a time to read his work when I am able to focus and concentrate. It took me a lot longer to read because I kept having to put it down, take a few days off, and then pick it up again.

I enjoyed the beginning of this book, but it "lost" me just over half way through and I no longer had any interest in the characters.

I first read Henry James’ “The Portrait of a Lady” when I was in college, but reread it several years ago (one of the only “classics” I’ve ever reread) for a book club I was in. Part of me has always dreaded picking up a novel by Henry James because his style is so dry with complicated (albeit beautiful) sentences that demand a lot of concentration. But I thorough enjoyed revisiting James’ story about Isabel Archer who travels to Europe while batting away suitors, becomes an unexpected heiress and marries the wrong man. So I was fascinated to hear that one of Ireland’s greatest living writers John Banville wrote a sequel to James’ great novel. “Mrs Osmond” picks up on Isabel’s story immediately after the end of “The Portrait of a Lady” where she’s gone to England to be by her beloved dying cousin’s side even though it’s against her husband Gilbert Osmond’s wishes. It’s entirely ambiguous in James’ novel whether she’ll return to her domineering husband, but Banville gives the answer in this story. But, more than resolving a plot point, this novel is a moving meditation on the meaning of personal independence.

Banville does something really clever and fun near the beginning of this novel. He writes about Isabel dining alone in London and how she becomes aware of a man across the room staring at her as if she were a portrait. Banville writes Henry James in to his story in this playful way and once she leaves the restaurant its like she’s been liberated from his authorial control: “It was as if she were an invalid making her feeble way over difficult terrain, who had found suddenly that a hand that had been sustaining her for so long she had ceased to notice its support had suddenly been withdrawn, leaving her to totter alone.” This is an ingenious post-modern trick as if the character has been granted independence - but, of course, it’s not really true because now James’ heroine has been absorbed into Banville’s artistic vision.

Nor does Banville try to liberate the story from James’ oracular style of writing which closely imitates The Master. This is an impressive feat, but also somewhat detracted from the reading experience for me. Banville’s typical prose are exquisite and, given the choice, I’d rather read a novel of his over Henry James. But this book is more James than Banville. When I read his last novel “The Blue Guitar” I noted how distinctly parts of it reminded me of Samuel Beckett so although Banville is incredibly talented maybe he’s more like a mockingbird. However, I’m extremely glad I stuck with the density of prose in this novel for both the story twists and the way Banville expands Isabel’s character in a more dynamic way.

Like in a Henry James novel, there is a scant amount of action in this story. Every journey Isabel takes and every meeting she has with someone is inevitably accompanied by the protagonist’s considerations about identity and society. As ponderous as these might become, there are real flashes of brilliance in some of these tangents ranging from thoughts about money “that must not be mentioned, that must be passed over in the strictest silence, if the necessary norms of civilised society were to be maintained and preserved intact” to the way we naively project ourselves into the people we fall in love with “What she saw was that it had not been Osmond she had fallen in love with, when she was young, but herself, through him. That was why he was no more to her now that a mirror, from the back of which so much of the paint had flaked and fallen away that it afforded only fragments of a reflection, indistinct and disjointed.”

Often where the story really shines are in the brief insights into Isabel’s character made by other characters particularly the rambunctious American journalist Henrietta Stackpole who remarks at one point “Oh, I know you, Isabel Archer. The most monstrous ghouls might parade before you, clanking their chains and keening, and not a hair on your head will turn, but set you square in front of a looking-glass and you will start back from your own image with piercing cries of fright.” This is funny and there are some great bits of social humour in this novel especially in the way Isabel tries to awkwardly befriend her maid. But Henrietta also gets to the heart of Isabel’s real dilemma: not whether she should remain with her husband Gilbert Osmond or choose another suitor, but the degree to which she can escape the image she’s built of herself and pursue what she really wants in life. Banville provides some clever turns in the story which had me gripped to discover what happens. It takes a lot of courage to follow in Henry James’ footsteps and there are few writers such as Alan Hollinghurst and John Banville who are talented enough to do so.

Being a fan of Henry James I was interested to read this 'sequel' but this is the second Banville book that I have attempted this year and again I found it lacking

I really wanted to like this but unfortunately, I didn't.
I really struggled to get into it, left it a while, came back to it but called it a day early on.
Not for me.

At the time that I requested this from NetGalley there were no reviews, and there is nothing in the blurb to indicate that it's actually a follow-on novel to Henry James' The Portrait of a Lady. Had I known that, I wouldn't have taken the book, since I haven't read the James novel.

Having read 25% of this one, I find I'm entirely detached and disinterested, the stream of characters being mentioned (but mostly not met with) meaning nothing to me. Is the writing a good or bad take on James'? How would I know? It reads to me like a rather stodgy version of Virginia Woolf, so if that sounds like a good description of James' style then I guess he's doing it well.

It's pretty well-written, stylised and as I say a touch stodgy, and there is depth in the main character of Mrs Osmond. It gives a decent picture of the restrictions society still set on upper-class women in the late 19th century. But I feel that not having read the book it's based on is leaving me frustrated and rather peeved - it seems like an important omission from the blurb, presumably because the publishers didn't want to limit purchasers only to fans of the earlier book. A mistake or worse - a misrepresentation, perhaps.

I may one day read The Portrait of a Lady (although this one has given so many spoilers for that one I now wonder whether there would be any point); and then I may also return to this one. But my strong recommendation would be, don't try to read this without having read the James novel first. Abandoned at 25% and not rated.

I read this book and enjoyed every minute of it, I think I should have read the previous book beforehand though! I probably missed nuances and relationships that are key to the setting and the characters.
I felt moved and sad about the plight of servant and master trapped with each other and their stifling lives.
Thankyou for letting me read it!

Banville picks up the story of Isabel Osmond (née Archer) from where we left her in the classic The Portrait of a Lady. While this novel will likely appeal most to fans of Henry James’s work, Banville retells enough of the original story for Mrs Osmond to work as a stand-alone piece. Upon learning of her husband’s betrayal, Isabel has journeyed to London, leaving him behind in Italy. Away from her husband and reunited with her friends, Isabel starts to rediscover her desire for independence. Lively characters, elegant prose and engaging dialogue combine to make this a very enjoyable read.

I don’t enjoy reading either Henry James or John Banville so it seemed unlikely that reading Banville’s sequel to James’ The Portrait of a Lady would do it for me. But much to my surprise it did – up to a point. I really enjoyed most of the book. Banville managed to channel James in a way that seemed true to both of them and it was interesting to enter into Banville’s imaginative foray into “what happened next” after Isabel Archer discovered her husband had been deceiving her with her close friend Madame Merle. However, Banville lost control, I felt, in the latter part of the book. Apart from some anachronisms, particularly to do with Isabel's fortune, revelations about Osmond’s sheer nastiness (he sort of becomes a stage villain) and the more than unlikely revelation about Pansy’s personality, which apart from anything else was quite unnecessary and is probably making James turn in his grave, turned what had been until then a measured and quite convincing novel of social mores with some deft characterisations into a gothic pantomime with some very unconvincing plot twists. Started well, but ended badly.

Admirers of Henry James may find themselves taken aback by this book. Portrait of a Lady is one of James's most treasured novels, and he has imitated--as best he could--James's style from start to finish. (Except, perhaps, that strange placement of adverbs which is so characteristic.) His ending, like the original, is a short sharp shock. Aside from that, it's a journeyman sequel in the vein of so many big sellers. It felt like a Great House book, which the original does not.

A rich and vivid imagining of the events following Henry james' Potrait of a Lady. Banville takes the character of Isabel Osmond and tells what happened following the startling revelations at the end of the classic novel. Readers familiar with James' classic will be delighted to see so many familiar faces, while those who are less familiar with the book will be relieved to know that Banville has carefully worked a recap of the essentials into his book, and done so in a skilled and unobtrusive manner. While the writing style is obviously different to the original , many of the characters retain their charm and originality, particularly Isabel herself. The book is really a story about her recovering the strength and independence that made her such an interesting creation in the original, and how she rebuilds herself and wreaks her vengeance in an almost chillingly calculated and fitting manner makes for an excellent story. The biggest gripe I had was the development of Pansy's character, the changes here seemed a little jarring, and in a way unnecessary. Overall a well written and enjoyable read, and one I would recommend for any fan of The Portrait of a Lady.

Thanks Penguin Books (UK) and netgalley for this ARC.

Girl Power! The only way women had any power was money in Victorian times. This is a long thought provoking book that takes place in Mrs. Osmond head most of the time.

It is 40 years since I read ‘A Portrait of a Lady’ as a student and I remembered little of it apart from the basic plot. It was a delight to me to revisit it in the first part of this sequel by John Banville, mostly through Isabel’s memories and conversations with friends, though I appreciate that others more familiar with Henry James’ novel may think there is too much rehashing of the original before we move on to Isabel’s next moves. Once I settled into the wordy style of writing, I was hooked. I was interested from beginning to end to see how Isabel would cope with the events that led her to leave her husband and her home in Italy.

Gorgeous images - a few examples:

‘That he had it in his power to fund her fearless ascent of the sheer rock-face of her - of his! - ambitions must have seemed to him the justification, the compensation, for his having to bide below, in the shadowed valley, while she scaled the radiant heights. And what a drab disappointment it must have been for him that instead of pressing onwards to the peak she had lost her footing and plunged headlong down the sheer cliff….’

‘What she saw was that it had not been Osmond she had fallen in love with, when she was young, but herself, through him. That was why he was no more to her now than a mirror, from the back of which so much of the paint had flaked and fallen away that it afforded only fragments of a reflection, indistinct and disjointed.’

‘He still had that strange appearance of being somehow reduced, yet the effect seemed to her now not one of diminishment, but rather of concentration, as if he had drawn the belts and buckles of his armour tight the better to do battle with her.’

So you can see I loved the writing. I also very much enjoyed the way the action unfolded, with one exception - I hated what the author did with Pansy and since that comes near the end of the novel it slightly soured my whole experience.

John Banville returning to Henry James' The Portrait of a Lady seems like an ideal match - the result, though, is more puzzling, less satisfying that I expected.

Firstly, Banville's style never matches the cool elegance and precision of James, and there are jarring colloquialisms that ensure we're only partially in James' territory: 'Even yet she felt, did Mrs Osmond' or 'Staines' devotion to her mistress had not wavered a jot'. The very presence of named servants and detailed menus (at one point Isabel nibbles at a slice of toast) is profoundly unJamesian and it's not completely clear whether the former is drawing attention to the class-ridden assumptions of the original, making the invisible servants visible.

More pressingly, the characters are *not* James': they become exaggerated and almost one-dimensional - evil Osmond, foolish and vengeful Mme Gemini, a newly-corrupt Pansy (and the nature that her 'corruption' takes is strangely anachronistic). Even Isabel herself is diminished, reduced to being a woman both self-forgiving and looking for revenge. The wonderfully dense and complicated characterisations and moral debates of the original, especially issues about decisions and consequences, are erased, and this is a far simpler tale. The introduction of a suffragette feels too pointed and the plot-point about Isabel leaving her briefcase of money lying around is just absurd.

There are long discussions which have characters telling each other what already happened in the original text and these sections feel almost like a crib for anyone who didn't 'get' what happened - almost a kind of SparksNotes for GCSE!

For all my criticisms, there is a sense of Banville re-opening in 2017 a book which was written in the 1880s - questions of money, morality, gender and marriage are still troublesome and deserving of writers' attentions. Overall, though, I felt that James' prior text stultifies rather than feeds Banville's imagination. An interesting project but not one which worked overwell for me.