Susan Kay’s second book, Phantom, was published in 1990 and reprinted twice in 1991. It’s the tragic retelling of Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, from birth until death. It was inspired by Lloyd Webber’s musical of 1986, the source novel by Gaston Leroux (1910) which I read in 1987, and an animated cartoon of 1967.
The book is a first-person narrative by several people: Madeleine (1831-1840), Erik’s mother; Erik (1840-1843); Giovanni (1844-1846), an Italian stonemason; Nadir (1850-1853), the mysterious Persian; Erik (1856-1881); Erik and Christine (1881); and Raoul (1897).
Erik was born in France and was severely disfigured – possibly Lon Chaney’s makeup has come closest to the true depiction. His mother made him wear a mask at all times and yet she still struggles to love him. Strangely, he exhibits uncanny intelligence with a facility for music, languages, architecture and creative art. The boy’s singing voice is almost otherworldly, yet his mother is affected adversely: ‘His voice is a sin... No woman who hears it will ever die in a state of grace’ (p36).
At about eight years of age he runs away and eventually joins a circus where he is treated abysmally for three years until finally he escapes to wander the rest of Europe. He falls in with the aging stonemason Giovanni who takes him on as an apprentice. Disaster follows and we next find him in Persia, being employed by the Shah as an architect and magician. (Yes, he has mastered prestidigitation too). Here, he is embroiled in court intrigue – ‘the Persian court was not a place where a wise man took his eyes off an enemy for a single careless moment’ (p198). Finally, he was drawn to Paris: a public competition had been held for the plans of a new Opera House. He befriends the competition winner and is involved in the construction so that he not only knows intimately the place they build but also the special secret access doors he has engineered as well. The stage is set for Erik to meet Christine and vie for her affections with her rich fiancĂ© Raoul.
Kay has managed to give us the voice of each narrator with conviction. Even though knowing it will all end in tears, I could not put the book down. Kay captures Erik’s prodigious learning capacity for architecture, magic, and music: ‘Music was the secret sanctuary of my soul; music was my god, the only master I would ever serve again. I wished I could build a monument to its glory... an opera house perhaps...’ (pp320-321). The Paris Opera House opening night was on 5 January 1875, with the spectacular chandelier installed.
Erik’s relationship with Nadir, the daroga of Mazenderan is both moving and intriguing, as the Persian was fearful of Erik and yet in awe too: ‘I found that I no longer thought of him as a cold and heartless monster’ (p230).
Christine, as we know, becomes mesmerised by Erik’s voice – the Angel of Music – and falls under his spell. Thus the tragedy’s final act begins.
I too
fell under the spell of Kay’s writing, living – even if briefly – the lives of the
several narrators.
