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But something happened to Beth that made her abandon her family, friends, lovers and her bandmates, and the drink, drugs and sex that accompanied them, to seek refuge in a life of silence and simplicity in an environment that keeps men and women strictly separated.
I struggled to feel any sympathy for a character whose selfishness was matched only by her vacuousness. Yes, she has made some mistakes in her past (although most seem nothing out of the ordinary), and yes, she did play her part in a terrible tragedy. This is where I expected some sense of palpable regret to come to the surface - but despite months of meditation, Tim Parks's heroine remains as self-involved as ever. As the story of her past is slowly pieced together, I found myself distinctly uninterested. To read The Server as the self-confessed "companion novel" to Teach Us to Sit Still, his acclaimed memoir of how he transformed his life of chronic pain and illness through the use of meditation, probably makes more sense. Yet ultimately the vicissitudes of Western individualism and Eastern quietism are more suited to a piece of provocative spiritual philosophy than as the basis of a page-turning plot. — The Independent
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B
"Sex is forbidden
at the Dasgupta Institute", we are told in the very first
sentence of this novel, and accordingly it hangs heavily over the
sexless pages that follow. Beth's self-imposed internment clearly has
its roots in her previous inability to curb her rapacious sexual
appetite. Indeed, it grows somewhat dull being reminded how attractive
she is, and ultimately how out-of-place she is in this haven of
innocence. I'm tempted to find fault with this potentially
misogynistic depiction of female sexuality - the woman who
overindulges must pay the consequences - but actually it's Beth
herself who irks me more.