3. Ice

By Anna Kavan

Ice was the first book I opened in 2023, but it wasn’t the first book I finished.  It turned out to be a huge letdown considering the build up of events that led me to this novel in the first place!

I first heard of Ice from the Charlie Kaufman film I’m Thinking of Ending Things, which I watched last September.  There's a scene where the couple was driving back to the city after visiting the guy’s parents out in the middle of nowhere.  The heavy snowfall reminded Jesse Plemon’s character of the apocalyptic novel Ice by Anna Kavan, and he proceeded to mansplain the premise to his gf.

 

I was intrigued and googled the book after the film was over.  The consistently worshipful Goodread reviews cemented my desire to get my hands on the cult novel.  Reviews like:

 

“This novel is bleak and beautiful.“

“If I lived forever, I would read this book 200 times, each time more slowly, bathing in every sentence and unearthing all the glorious subtext which must lie beneath its icebergs...
Ice is the only easy read that's also a hard read. The writing is poetic, but simple and crisp... Actions are clear, the imagery ever-present. It reads, in many ways, like a movie--a dream-movie. The characters are all nameless shadows swirling around in a context that shape-shifts as often as it remains constant. We see their movements and glimpse their motivations, but they remain enigmas.”

 Since hubs was visiting his parents in November, I found a used hardcover on Abe Books and ordered it to be delivered to their U.S. address -- a lovely 2017 Peter Owen Cased Classics edition with cover art by Naomi Frears (which you can see in this post) and a foreword by Christopher Priest.  What’s more, it was only $11 USD!

To add even more mystique, when I received my book, inside was a handwritten note with a letterhead of the Henry Norman Hotel in Brooklyn, NY:

           FOREVER AND ALWAYS

                 – ERIK   (a heart on the i)

 

Oooh, a lover’s note!  I wondered if Erik and his paramour met at a conference, had a passionate tryst at the aforementioned hotel, then he became a little obsessed with her and gave her his fave book, Ice.  Clearly, the object of his desire didn’t feel the same way, as the book ended up in Red’s Corner, a used bookstore in Tucker, Georgia (most likely unread)!

 

All these factors heightened my excitement in reading Ice.  I even delayed my gratification by saving it for the right time, when Montreal was in the full grip of winter.  When I finally started reading, I gradually came to the realization that Ice wasn’t going to be the amazing experience I was hoping for.  Instead, I was stuck with a dysfunctional romance set in a world-ending backdrop.  What’s worse, I was mired in the POV of an obsessive loser who journeys from place to place in sole pursuit of a girl who doesn’t want anything to do with him.

 

When I got to this passage on p.28, warning bells went off. 

I switched on the headlights, saw her in the doorway, thin arms clasped round her chest. Her face wore its victim’s look, which was of course psychological, the result of injuries she had received in childhood; I saw it as the faintest possible hint of bruising on the extremely delicate, fine, white skin in the region of eyes and mouth. It was madly attractive to me in a certain way.

My instincts were right.  Throughout the novel, even though she’s clearly a grown woman (albeit with a girlish figure), she’s always referred to as “ girl”.  She’s consistently described as childlike, waifish, frail, and/or variations of those adjectives.  Her pale blond hair is always shiny, glittery, silvery, etc.  She may as well be a wraith as she barely has a personality, and functions merely as a symbol or cipher.  Then again, the male characters are also portrayed two-dimensionally, but at least they have some agency and control over their own lives and/or that of others. 

 

The third character making up the dysfunctional triangle is The Warden.  He’s the total opposite of the narrator: tall, imposing, menacing, and powerful.  The only commonality is that he, too, is obsessed with the girl, but instead of being passive about it, he’s downright abusive. He keeps her locked in the bedroom and it’s heavily implied that he forces himself upon her sexually.

Alone here, where nobody could hear her, where nobody was meant to hear, she was cut off from all contact, totally vulnerable, at the mercy of the man who came in without knowcking, without a word, his cold, very bright blue eyes pouncing on hers in the glass.  She crouched motionless, staring silently into the mirror, as if mesmerized.  The hypnotic power of his eyes could destroy her will, already weakened by the mother who for years had persistently crushed it into submission. Forced since childhood into a victim’s pattern of thought and behaviour, she was defenseless against his aggressive will, which was able to take complete possession of her. I saw it happen.

Since the narrator is obsessed with the girl, the last remaining months of his existence on this dying planet is spent either searching for or rescuing her from her abusive controlling boyfriend-captor aka the Warden.  Even though the narrator is not the abusive type, he clearly regards the girl as his possession. 

 

At one point, the town where the narrator was staying had descended into chaos and fighting.  He came across the body of a young woman, who looked like the girl, but “lying face down on the stones.”  Evidence of violence had been inflicted on her bloodied body.  I rolled my eyes at this particularly cringy passage:

I looked particularly at one arm, on which the circular marks of teeth stood out clearly. The bones of the forearm were broken, the sharp pointed ends of bone projected at the wrist through the torn tissue.  I felt I had been defrauded: I alone should have done the breaking with tender love. I was the only person entitled to inflict wounds.

Yet when the narrator finally ‘gets the girl’ he doesn’t know what to do with her.  He’s unable to see her as a human being, and she seems to regard him with disdain, so they default to a dysfunctional loveless relationship and settle down in a “gay, undamaged” town that’s relatively peaceful, if somewhat mad in their gaiety.  The girl is absolutely transformed in her new environment:  going off on her own, spending extravagantly on clothes and makeup, making new friends, typically ‘girly’ aka trivial endeavors.  She would only interact with the narrator when she needed money.  The narrator became unsatisfied in this situation.  He lacks the cold brutality of the warden and thus, he gives up and decides to leave her again.  Meanwhile, the ice is steadily encroaching and civilization continues to fall apart.

 

What made the experiences worse was the uninspiring writing style.  It was rather cringey knowing that the dated, cliched sexual dynamics and the poeticization of domestic abuse were penned by a woman.  The prose has a detached, dreamlike quality (which is fine), but it’s frustrating in its vagueness.  It’s written in first person, but the narrator is omniscient – it reminds me of a non-writer writing in their journal.   One moment, he’s walking to the girl’s locked bedroom in the Warden’s house, and suddenly he’s voyeuristically describing the warden physically abusing the girl in the privacy of ‘their’ bedroom in great detail.  It makes for a very disjointed reading experience.  It may be intentional, but it also comes across as amateurish.  I kept wondering if I was reading a bad translation of the novel, but alas, I was not.

The government would not disclose the facts.  I was informed privately of a steep rise in radioactive pollution, pointing to the explosion of a nuclear device, but of an unknown type, the consequences of which could not be accurately predicted.  It was possible that polar modifications had resulted, and would lead to, a substantial climatic change due to the refraction of solar heat.  If the melting Antarctic ice cap flowed over the South Pacific and Atlantic oceans, a vast ice-mass would be created, reflecting the sun’s rays and throwing them back into outer space, thus depriving the earth of warmth. In town, everything was chaotic and contradictory. News from abroad was censored, but travel was left unrestricted. Confusion was increased by a spate of news and conflicting regulations, and by the arbitrary way controls were imposed or lifted.  The one thing that would have clarified the position was an overall picture of world events; but this was prohibited by the determination of the politicians to ban all foreign news. My impression was that they had lost their heads, did not know how to deal with the approaching danger, and hoped to keep the public in ignorance of its exact nature until a plan had been evolved.

Kavan never gets into specifics that help with world-building nor provides any insights into the psyche of the narrator, who himself is an enigma.   I know that the narrative is supposed to be conceptual, rather than character-driven, and that I shouldn’t expect a straightforward approach.  At least in I’m Thinking of Ending Things, we come to understand that “the girl” was always a construct in the psyche of a lonely old high school janitor.  But in Ice, the narrator never questions why he’s so obsessed with the girl and what she means to him.  He just wants to be with her when the world ends.

 

The closest thing I got to any self-awareness of himself and the world around him was this passage:

The ship was already moving when I crossed the deck, meaning to go straight to my cabin. But now the scene caught my eye, and it gave me a shock:  I stopped and stood staring. A sunlit harbour was sliding past me, a busy town, I saw wide streets, well-dressed people, modern buildlings, cars, yachts on the blue water. No snow; no ruins no armed guards. It was a miracle, a flashback to something dreamed.  Then another shock, the sensation of a violent awakening, as it dawned on me that this was the reality, and those other things the dream. All of a sudden, the life I had lately been living appeared unreal: it simply was not credible any longer.

As they drive away into the desolate wintry landscape.  I can see how this could’ve inspired Charlie Kaufman to write I’m Thinking of Ending Things.  For myself, I was just relieved to be done with them, honestly!

Instead of my world, there would soon be only ice, snow, stillness, death no more violence, no war, no victims; nothing but frozen silence, absence of life.  The ultimate achievement of mankind would be, not just self-destruction, but the destruction of all life the transformation of the living world into a dead planet.

And the ending.  The boy got the girl in the end, after all that back and forth, and more back and forth.  It turned out the girl just wanted a little respect from the boy.  The girl was like, even though I acted like I hated you, I really wanted you, and was waiting for you the whole time, etc. etc.  So, the boy just had to stop acting like a bully and treat her right!!!  Groan.

 

Ice had such a promising premise, but the execution was awful. It read like a first attempt at a novel by a fresh out of college student.  The infantile notions of hetero relationships, obsession and romanticization of abuse reeked of naiveté.   The only somewhat interesting element was that it predicted GoT’s “winter is coming” meme, and climate change.  Other than some interesting ideas, I truly didn’t understand its cultish appeal. 

 

I was so disappointed and dissatisfied with Ice.  I was so astounded that someone like Christopher Priest could love this novel so much that I even resorted to having a conversation with ChatGPT, because who else could I talk to about my singular experience??  And by god, even the AI was sympathetic to readers who loved Ice!!  Even AI is against me!

My convo with ChatGPT:

Me:  Write a review about the novel, Ice by Anna Kavan. I was disappointed in its simplistic writing and symbolism. I couldn't understand why the narrator would be obsessed with a young woman who clearly despised him. "The girl" was a young woman who was always described by her physical appearance, ie. fragile, pale, childlike and thin.

 

"Ice" by Anna Kavan is a haunting and surreal novel that explores themes of addiction, obsession, and power dynamics. The story is told from the perspective of an unnamed narrator who becomes obsessed with a young woman referred to only as "the girl."

While the novel is highly symbolic, it can also be interpreted on a literal level as a story of a man pursuing a woman who is clearly not interested in him. The narrator's obsession with the girl is unhealthy and borders on stalker-like behavior. The girl is depicted as fragile, pale, and childlike, which may make some readers uncomfortable with the power dynamics at play.

In terms of writing style, "Ice" is spare and minimalist. Some readers may find this simplistic, while others may appreciate the stark beauty of Kavan's prose. The novel's surreal and dreamlike quality may also make it difficult for some readers to follow the plot.

Overall, "Ice" is a challenging but rewarding read for those interested in experimental literature and exploring complex themes of addiction and obsession. However, readers who prefer straightforward narratives or who are uncomfortable with power imbalances in relationships may want to approach this novel with caution.

 

Me: I didn't find Ice very challenging at all, and its themes of addiction and obsession were rather tiresome, and really not that complex, as the narrator was not capable of exploring why he was behaving this way. Also, he got the girl at the end. If this was a story of addiction it meant that his journey was a failure. I guess it's rather sad that when the world is ending, an addict has nothing better to do than to satisfy his addiction?

 

I understand your perspective on "Ice" by Anna Kavan. It's possible that the novel may not have been challenging for you, as everyone has different levels of familiarity and comfort with experimental literature. It's also true that the themes of addiction and obsession may not have been as complex as you were expecting, especially as the narrator's addiction and obsession are not fully explored or explained.

Furthermore, the fact that the narrator was able to fulfill his addiction at the end of the novel may seem like a failure of his character arc, as he has not fully addressed the underlying issues that led him to his addictive behavior. It's possible that this aspect of the story could be seen as sad or frustrating, as it suggests that even in the face of impending doom, some people may prioritize their addiction above all else.

Overall, it's important to keep in mind that everyone has different tastes in literature and that what may be challenging or complex for one person may not be for another. While "Ice" may not have met your expectations in terms of its writing style or exploration of themes, it's still a valuable piece of literature that has resonated with many readers.

 

Me: I wonder if Ice resonates with men more than women. Can you confirm this?

 

As an AI language model, I do not have personal experiences or beliefs, nor am I capable of confirming any hypothesis or claim without data to support it. However, it is possible that some readers may have different reactions to "Ice" based on their gender, as the novel explores themes related to power dynamics and gender roles. Some readers may find the portrayal of the female character in the novel problematic or unsettling, as she is depicted as fragile, childlike, and physically attractive, which may perpetuate harmful stereotypes about women. Others may find the novel's exploration of addiction and obsession to be universal themes that transcend gender. Ultimately, the way that individual readers respond to "Ice" will depend on a variety of factors, including their own life experiences and personal beliefs.