The Hearing Trumpet - Leonora Carrington

© Weird Fiction Review

‘This book is so inspiring…I love its freedom, its humour and how it invents its own laws. What specifically do I take from her? Her wig’ – Björk

If there is one thing you do this year, let it be to read Leonora Carrington.

Stumbling across Carrington’s book, The Hearing Trumpet, a few months ago was nothing short of a revelation. Admittedly, the novel’s thin spine was what initially drew me in; I was feeling tired, lazy and slightly bleary eyed. A short, sharp read was what I was after. Joyfully, from this drowsy decision has bloomed the colourful, enigmatic and surreal world of a British emigre whose life and works have been floating quietly, and largely unnoticed, on the periphery of our cultural consciousness.

It’s time to embrace this visionary author with the same vigour and dynamism which streams through every powerfully chosen word in her small (but perfectly formed) canon.

In the corner shelf of that airport bookstore, Carrington’s name appeared an enigma in amongst the Fitzgerald’s, Woolf’s, and Joyce’s sat, expectantly, in their usual slot; powerful modernist authors who dominate university reading lists and ordinary bookshelves. As I pulled The Hearing Trumpet down from the shelf I was initially intrigued, if not slightly turned off, by the painting of six cackling crones cocooned in fuzzy rugs that adorns its front cover. This image has something emulative of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to it; four aged grandparents relegated to the bed, hopeless, old, tired; cheering on the young protagonist’s adventure. I shouldn’t deny that I found myself slightly resistant to a novella centred around the experiences of a 92 year old deaf woman, carted off to an institution by her despairing family.

Post-reading, the feisty, self-assured and sanguine voice of Marian Leatherby – the central character – is one of the main reasons behind my desire to promote the text. What’s more, this initial hesitation on my behalf only serves to demonstrate why we need more voices from older women in the literary world; especially those like Marian, a true match for any Gatsby, Orlando, or Leopold Bloom.

Carrington is probably more famous for her art. In Mexico, her surrealist sculptures tower provocatively along the streets of the country’s capital. Infused with feminine symbolism and dreamlike scenes, her paintings are logic-defying and enticing. Despite her international reputation as an accomplished Surrealist, Leonora never reached the fame bestowed onto her male contemporaries; Dali, Ernst, Picasso.

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However, it is upon seeing her art that you realise Carrington writes as she paints; seemingly ordinary characters are peppered, splashed or dosed (in varying degrees) with magical qualities. This lends itself to an extra-ordinary body of work, which riotously amalgamates the everyday concerns of elderly life with the surreal; retirement buildings shaped like igloos and birthday cakes, an occult Abbess – turned Bee Queen – and a proud Hungarian family of werewolf blood. Notably, what makes The Hearing Trumpet so amusing is the dry tone and shrewd response with which Marian, and her best friend Carmella, encounter the fantastical.

It’s less surprising that Carrington has been semi-dormant for so long when we consider that her works, written first in French and Spanish, went untranslated for years. Born in Lancashire in 1917, she moved to France in her early twenties; followed by stints in Spain, Portugal, and New York before settling in Mexico City until her death in 2011. Her life story is as kaleidoscopic as the images she creates with paint and pen. What seems to have driven her travels, relationships and creative outputs is the strong sense in which the social restraints of upper-middle class European society overwhelmed – or underwhelmed, depending on how you look at it – a woman who consistently defied convention and expectation.

Carrington’s voice rings visionary in this novel; she raises interesting questions both about how society conceptualises, or responds to, old age, and the role women play in a male-dominated society. With such a lucid female lead, and strong feminine motifs (such as the Queen Bee and the moon); The Hearing Trumpet is a master feminist text which subverts the tradition of female objectification in Surrealism. The novel quickly “liberates us from the miserable reality of our days” (Luis Buñue) through its otherworldly imagery, refreshing tone and entertaining characters. There leaves little reason for Carrington, or The Hearing Trumpet, to be denied their position as heavyweights in the modernist canon for any longer.

Also recommended: ‘The Debutante and Other Stories’ by Leonora Carrington