Book Review: "Prater Violet" by Christopher Isherwood

“Prater Violet” is one of those books by Christopher Isherwood that if you like his book “Goodbye to Berlin” and its writing style then you will probably love this one. I have never been a huge fan of Christopher Isherwood and I have admittedly not read too much by him other than the most popular novels. However, after reading “Goodbye to Berlin” last year, I have been searching for the author’s books just like this one and I can honestly say that the closest in its almost romantic writing style is “Prater Violet”. Even though the latter is more of an autobiographical work and is based on things that actually happened whilst Isherwood was working in the film industry. I think that it still has some resonating factors with the book “Goodbye to Berlin” in the fact that it is written with absolute passion - and it is rare for me to see that in a book by Christopher Isherwood as it is often cut up and overshadowed by a ton of back and forth dialogue-heavy passages that fail to interact with the reader.

Let us take a look at some of the quotations that I think were possibly by far the best in the book. And there are parts that have way too much dialogue and too many conversations go on for far too long. But the passages that do have passion or dryness or both seem to be written with perfection, polished to the point of creating the very best atmosphere for character, theme or part of the plot that is being covered at the time.

“Bergmann grunted faintly. He had transferred his attention to Chatsworth now, and was watching him with an intensity which would have reduced most people to embarrassed silence within thirty seconds. Having eaten up his meat with a sort of frantic nervous impatience, he was smoking. Chatsworth at leisurely, but with great decision, pausing after each mouthful to make a new pronouncement. Bergmann’s strong, hairy, ringless hand rested on the table. He held his cigarette like an accusing forefinger pointed straight at Chatsworth’s heart. His head was magnificent and massive as sculptured granite. The head of a Roman emperor, with dark old Asiatic eyes. The stiff drab suit didn’t fit him. His shirt collar was too tight. His tie was askew and clumsily knotted. Out of the corner of my eye, I studied the big firm chin, the grim compressed line of the mouth, the harsh furrows cutting down from the imperious nose, the bushy black hair in the nostrils…”

This is literally just describing the the way Bergmann is looking at Chatsworth, his demeanour and analysing his character. There is nothing else happening and it is as if everything has slowed down in intensity to this very point.

“I fell back, in my despair upon memories of other movies. I tried to be smart, facetious. I made involved, wordy jokes. I wrote a page of dialogue which led nowhere and only succeeded in establishing the fact that an anonymous minor character was having an affair with someone else’s wife. As for Rudolf, the incognito Prince, he talked like the lowest common denominator of all the worst musical comedies I had ever seen. I hardly dared to show my wretched attempts to Bergmann at all. He read them through with furrowed brows and a short, profound grunt; but he didn’t seem either dismayed or surprised…”

I’m not going to lie but at this point, I was not surprised that the writing of the script was not only underway but also proves to be one of the most troubling times of the book. I was instead surprised that Bergmann would outright state how he felt about it. He does not, as a character, tend to beat around the bush and suggest improvements - I wonder how true that is but another thing is I wonder why, if it is true, Bergmann did not just leave it up to Isherwood and not bother checking the drafts.

All in all, this is one of Christopher Isherwood’s better novels and there are a number of things to be learned about the strangeness of the evolving film industry from the novel.