Tangerine – Christine Mangan (2018)

They say, not to judge a book by the cover – well I did, and yet again a modern novel fell flat. A bright orange cover, with a woman in fifties dress looking out into the sun – and the promise of something reminiscent of Patricia Highsmith’s Ripley, I got sucked in. Tangerine by Christine Mangan is not terrible, it’s very readable, generally well written and quite a page turner in places, and towards the end of last week I felt in need of an easy escapist read, so it kind of fitted the bill. Yet still I was vaguely dissatisfied with it throughout. This should tell me to stick to vintage fiction and modern classics, however as I mentioned in my last post my #20booksofsummer pile is made of quite a few modern novels – and so I persevere.  

“Everything changes, sooner or later. Time moves along, without constraints—no matter how hard one may attempt to pause, to alter, to rewrite it.” 

The novel opens with a short prologue an unnamed woman sits by a window in Spain, remembering a time in Tangier. Cared for by nurses, it is at night-time that she has time to think about the past.

The rest of the novel is set in Tangier in 1956 – we know it’s 1956 because it says so on a page before the start of chapter 1. There is very little in the way of period detail except a few references to political unrest among locals seeking independence from Spain. The sense of place is stronger though – dark narrow streets, local women adorned in bright colours, crowded markets, cafes serving mint tea – the blazing Moroccan sun.

Alice Shipley has come to Tangier with her new husband John, she is very young, and her marriage came about quickly following hard on the heels of a terrible accident at the private American college she had attended for several years. She hasn’t adjusted to life in Morocco well at all, while her husband is out and about all day everyday Alice hides away inside their flat. Too nervous to go out into the crowded medinas, shutting herself away from the oppressive heat. Her marriage is not a big success and Alice isn’t happy.

So, the last person Alice expects to find knocking on her door is Lucy Mason, who she had shared a room with at Bennington college. Alice and Lucy haven’t spoken for over a year – since the accident, which left Alice fragile, with only the haziest, confused memories of that night.

“Whatever symbiosis existed between us was real, tangible, and now, without her presence I could feel the absence of it, as if she were an extension of my own person. She was, I realized, that awful, wretched part of me that should be locked away and boarded up forever – like Jane’s madwoman in the attic. She was the unfiltered version, the rawness that no one should ever see. She was every wicked thought, every forbidden desire turned real and visceral.”

There is immediately a slight tension between the two, but Lucy is delighted to be back with her old friend and so Alice invites her to stay at the flat. Lucy is fearless and confident she embraces Tangier as soon as she arrives and encourages Alice to get out of the flat and explore a little more of the country she has been living in for months.

“Tangier and Lucy were the same, I thought. Both unsolvable riddles that refused to leave me in peace. And I had tired of it – of the not knowing, of always feeling as though I were on the outside of things, just on the periphery.” 

Soon though a familiar feeling starts to creep over Alice, she has begun to feel controlled by Lucy – more stifled now than she ever was before. Memories of Bennington haunt her – and Alice starts to get flash backs of the accident. Then Alice’s husband goes missing.

The story is told in two first person narratives, alternating between Alice and Lucy. Despite the fact that each woman is a very different character – their voices are almost identical – and given that one is American, and one British there really should have been more distinction. Gradually, we learn more about what happened during the years Alice and Lucy were together at Bennington, which ended so abruptly and tragically.

I generally don’t do well with thrillers – I dislike those plot devices that quite literally make you fly through the pages despite yourself – finding it too breathless and hectic – I suppose I like subtle – and thrillers aren’t very.

Having said that I quite enjoyed this, it is well written overall, my gripes are minor ones, and the story really zips along once it gets going. There were a couple of things in the story I was unconvinced by – yet there’s a good sense of tension and secrets to be revealed. For me, this was an ok, 3 star read which I had probably expected too much of but was perfectly readable. Christine Mangan’s debut is a deeply chilling story of obsession and manipulation.

I imagine they will make a film of Tangerine in time, and I might even go and see it.