The Observer
Books 04.08.19 53A 16-year-old arrives, alone, at a
convent in Spain. She is given the
name Dolores. Her real name, and
where exactly she comes from, we’ll
never discover, which is typical of
Australian writer Lauren Aimee
Curtis ’s enigmatic debut nove l.
Dolores takes us, month by
month, through its protagonist’s
time at the convent – and to
the full term of an unplanned
pregnancy. Each chapter shows
Delores adapting to the nuns’
routines, before taking us back
through her churning memories of
life with her religious family and her
sexual experiences.
Dolores fi rst got drunk at 12 and
let three boys fi nger her in a church
basement. Later, she was taken to
love motels by Angelo, her crush
if not her boyfriend. But Dolores
cherished this secret: “She turned
it over carefully in her head, swore
that she would guard it with her
life, and then said a little prayerOn the run to live like a nun
of thanks.” Then Angelo started
bringing along his mates. Dolores
seems blandly acquiescent, but
Curtis delivers a potent, insightful
passage about the shift of power
dynamics at the moment of the
male orgasm: “There would be
a bright, unmistak able moment
of vulnerability. Some kind of
stumbling. An apology... And it made
Dolores feel powerful, as if she had
the upper hand.”
There is a gap, however, between
this sense of self-possession and the
growing understanding of how she’s
been used by men who will ignore
her outside of the motels. This gap is
presented coolly rather than fi lled in
with Dolores’s emotional response,
and we’re left to speculate if her
running off to join the convent,
without any word to her family, is
because she’s ashamed, pragmatic
or drawn to the life of a nun.
Curtis writes in short, stark
sentences. There’s great precisionFiction
Dolores
Lauren Aimee Curtis
W&N, £9.99, pp128A pregnant teenager
joins a convent in
a mysterious and
compelling debut,
writes Holly WilliamsQ: What books will restore my
faith in politicians?Michael, 65, Scotland
A: Sonia Purnell, pictured,
author of First Lady: The
Life and Wars of Clementine
Churchill , and Just Boris:
A Tale of Blond Ambition
(Aurum Press ), writes:Recent political convulsions
have exposed the low calibre
of our current batch of
politicians, but should also
remind us how relatively
lucky we have been in the
recent past. (And perhaps
how we might therefore be
again.) Betty Boothroyd
was the fi rst and
only female
Speaker of
the House of
Commons and
one of the most
popular to have
held that post. Her
recent interventions
in the Brexit debate now that
she sits in the House of Lords
reminded us how generous-
spirited, dignifi ed and
courageous she was. Betty
Boothroyd: The Autobiography
is a lively demonstration of
the way politicians can be
factual and fair as well as fun.
Winston Churchill once
said that Clement Attlee – his
deputy during the second
world war and his successor
after it – was a modest man
who had a lot to be modest
about. It was an ungracious
verdict (not shared by
Churchill’s wife, Clementine)
on a Labour prime minister
who presided over a radicalpost war government that
shaped much of Britain
as we know it today. John
Bew’s Citizen Clem combines
political analysis at its best
with a deep tug on our better
emotions as we struggle to
redefi ne what it means to be
British.
Victim of overt and
covert snobbery and
relentless insurrection by
his Eurosceptic wing, John
Major was never given a
real chance to show what he
could do. It seems almost a
fairytale in this age of
Etonian entitlement
that a boy from
Brixton with a
handful of O-levels
could make it to
No 10. His success
lay not only in his
fi ne mind – a clutch of
former cabinet secretaries
have hailed him as the best
prime ministerial negotiator
of modern times – but also
his charm and, indeed, his
persistence. He once went
without sleep for more
than 60 hours to wage
parliamentary battle against
the ERG of his day. John
Major: The Autobiography is
a readable tome about an
ambitious politician who
was still capable of putting
country before career.Submit your question to
book clinic at gu.com/book-
clinic-questions or email
[email protected]A weekly series answering readers’ questionsBook clinic
to her recounting of events and to
her descriptions: convent clothes
smell of “mothballs, stale soap and
onions”; the nuns seem “to chew
the soup as if it were a piece of
meat”. There’s something rather
cinematic about her arm’s length
approach – Dolores is observational,
not explanatory. This also provides
images of deadpan, physical
humour: Dolores breaking eggs
on to the head of a bishop who
puts his face up her skirt; a novice
smashing a guitar over a holier-
than-thou new arrival. “Madonna!
the nuns whisper.”
Short and mysterious, Dolores
is a compelling, one-sitting
read. I craved more – of Dolores
herself, of how she really feels.
But Curtis writes the close-up
details of life in the convent
with as much intensity as the
burgeoning sexuality of a young girl,
and the two elements chime in a
strange harmony.To order Dolores for £8.79 go to
guardianbookshop.com or call
0330 333 6846Dolores takes
us through its
protagonist’s time at
the convent. GettyРЕЛИЗIllustration by Dominic McKenzie
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