RETROSPECTIVE: 'The Driver's Seat' by Muriel Spark

The 'Retrospective' label is probably going to be assigned to reviews that are a little late. In most cases, a few decades late. Anyway, its an excuse for me to have the opportunity to take a look back at some of the most meaningful pieces of literature I've had the chance to read. That brings me to a book I first picked up a couple of years ago (admittedly because it's only 101 pages long) and had the pleasure of reliving the other week.

I first encountered The Driver's Seat, like many people, when I found it was the basis for the 1974 film 'Identikit.' Published in 1970, the book was marketed very much like a psychological thriller although it holds many themes akin to crime noir. In many ways, it is a classic 'who dunnit' inverted, described by Spark herself as a 'whydunnit' not only in reference to the novella but within the actual text itself.

In essence, The Driver's Seat is a character study of a woman slowly losing control of herself and her connection to the outside world. Lise is an office worker. She has worked in the same office in Northern Europe (although it is never specified in the book, it can be speculated that it is probably Denmark) for the last sixteen years. Very much a woman on the edge of a nervous breakdown, she is finally going on holiday however it becomes quickly apparent that this idyllic retreat isn't what it seems.

We discover very early on that Lise will be brutally murdered by the end of her first day abroad. Hence the novel is an examination; not just of what events take place but WHY they do so. From this point, every interaction Lise has with the people she encounter becomes crucial to the cause of her death; each instance initially told in an almost cynical way, recounting events as they happened initially, only to retell them in the instances after Lise's murder. This technique is used at several points throughout the novel, each time highlighting a different witness as steps are traced in the wake of Lise's murder. The effect this has creates a perception of time and the effect time has on the memory; time being a key element in the novel, which itself is told in the present tense, further giving Lise life, despite readers knowing her fate.

It eventually becomes apparent that there is something not quite right with Lise. A perpetual liar, often rude, provocative, eccentric, it's heavily implied that she has suffered years of mental illness. When she isn't constantly shopping , she wanders around the unnamed city on the lookout for a man she doesn’t seem to know, who or where she will find him. This self-destructive behaviour never seems answer any questions as to who, what or why but only seems to raise more. With out giving too much away, it's where The Driver's Seat allows readers to empathise with its protagonist. We become protective of someone we assume is probably the greatest danger to themselves. And when they aren't, that's when we as spectators feel most vulnerable.

The Driver's Seat reminded me what narrative could achieve in such a small space of time. It makes you question your own values and sense of morality, and skews them with its own. The fact convention could completely be ignored and practically reinvented in favour of creating vivid characters and spaces was for me something almost unseen in what I'd encountered before. For something published over forty years ago, it's almost sad to see the world hasn't changed and perhaps thats why the novel has managed to keep its relevance this whole time; it knows exactly why.