I’m doing yet another book review. This time for the  Journal of Visual Studies. The book is about the relationships that Roland Barthes, J.M. Barrie, Jacques Henri Latrigue, Marcel Proust and D.W Winnicot had with their mothers.

The book itself is a beautiful object – printed on lovely paper and thoughtfully designed. There are more pictures in this book (of a theoretical nature) than any of the books I have reviewed which have been about art. Pictures in books are always always always good! They have been printed on the same heavy matt paper as the rest of the book and they really work well! Captions in the text are in the same blue as the end papers, and each chapter starts with quotes refreshingly laid out  in a way that shows the designer knows something about typography and even perhaps futurist poetry.

The book is overwhelmingly thick and can only really be read in small doses, as the narrative seems to skip around and feels rather non-linear, though the wirting style is highly readable. Carol Mavor breaks the chapters up into rather odd themes which I am still trying to come to grips with because the links are more metaphorical than literal. Although chapter titles such as Winnicot’s ABCs and String Boy, and Pullling Ribbons from mouths, Roland Barthes Umbilical Referent indicate the chapter will focus on the writer mentioned, this does not seem to be the case, which can be a little confusing.

I do so want to just unreservedly expouse the virtues of a book I review – I seem to be far too critical, maybe it is a fault within me. So far this book has been the most interesting and engaging that I have been reviewing, but it really makes me doubt my intellectual capabilities – No matter how much I keep reminding myself I am an intelligent person, I start to wonder how on earth I am doing phd when I can’t grapple with everything in this book.

I am also trying to console myself with the fact that this book is about the relationships these men/ boys had with their mothers and I am neither a boy or a mother so perhaps this is another reason that parts of the twisty-twirly-stream–of-conscious narrative are lost on me. In fact, the relationships of these mothers and sons seem so perverse and oedipal that they have temporarily put a dampener on me ever wanting to mother a son myself if this is what it is about.

I had gone into this book review all excited about learning more about Roland Barthes whose theories relate to what I am doing, and about J.M Barrie whose hometown of Kirriemuir is just 20 minutes from where I live, but instead I an getting far more personal accounts than I really wanted or needed. The acronym “TMI!!! ” (too much information) springs to mind! I guess its just a matter of managing expectations - I came to this book with perhaps the wrong mindset. I’m still trying to keep positive and am hoping that once into the guts of the book it gets better, and if nothing else it is a very pretty book to be in the possession of!