Under Major Domo Minor by Patrick Dewitt
Book review by Melanie Cutting
Patrick Dewitt is a pretty funny guy: hence, the name. (Just kidding, but I do get a kick out of names that somehow define the person, such as my veterinarian, Dr. Devette, or my previous veterinarian, Dr. Kwaak.) Dewitt is the award-winning author of four other books, including the uber-popular 2011 novel The Sisters Brothers, reviewed in this column several weeks ago, and this year’s Giller Prize finalist, French Exit. Along the way, he wrote the screenplay for a film, Terri (2011). Dewitt, 45, was born on Vancouver Island, British Columbia and now lives in Portland, Oregon.
This darkly comic novel is set in an Alpine-like area reminiscent of a Grimm’s fairy tale locale. The story begins as young Lucien Minor, known to all as Lucy, leaves his village of Bury (Yes, Bury!) to take a job as assistant to the majordomo (chief steward) at Castle Von Aux. As the assistant, he becomes “Undermajordomo Minor” (written on the book cover on four separate lines, so the reader can’t miss the play on words. Think “Sisters Brothers”.)
Lucy is not Mr. Popularity in Bury: “Lucy was spindly and pale, bordering on sickly, and yet there was something pretty about him, too – his mouth was full, his black lashes full, his eyes large and blue. Privately, he considered himself comely in an obscure but undeniable way.” Bury, however, is known for producing strapping young men, so Lucy is at a distinct disadvantage with the ladies. Even his mother does not care much for him, as evidenced by her surreptitious posting of a “room for rent” sign in the town before Lucy is even on the train to the castle. His only claim to fame is his ability to lie effectively. On his way out of town, he leaves his former girlfriend with an outrageous lie about her new boyfriend Tor’s infidelity. “I happen to know for a fact that he is engaged to another woman in Horning…i’m quitting Bury forever but couldn’t bear the thought of you being made a fool of.” Like most of Lucy’s lies, this one is easily debunked, but no matter. Lucy is off to start his new life, but not before he is robbed on the train by two men, Mewe and Memel, who will eventually become his closest friends in the village that lies in the shadow of the ominous Castle Von Aux.
It quickly becomes apparent that most of the males in the area are engaged as soldiers in a mysterious war, punctuating the mountains with occasional muted gunshots and puffs of smoke. Following some difficulty making his presence known, requiring a gunshot to the castle’s enormous bell, he is admitted into the castle by Olderglough, “an elegantly skeletal man of 60 or so outfitted in a suit of black velvet.” This is the ancient and dour majordomo for whom Lucy will now work. His guided tour of the castle was not enthusiastic: “’This is a room,’ he said…’not much use for it these days. Better not to go in at all, is my thought. And here, here too is a room, just a room, serving no purpose whatsoever.’ ”
Lucy’s duties are light, to say the least. The larder is empty, there is no fire to be stoked. The only other employee is Agnes, the cook, and she is as judgemental and uncommunicative as Olderglough. The Baron Von Aux is nowhere to be found in or around the decrepit castle, but one of Lucy’s principal duties is to ensure that a daily missive written by the Baron to his wife the Baroness, living in parts unknown, is handed off to the train engineer on his daily trip through the village.
Life takes a distinct turn for the better when Lucy meets the exquisite Klara, Memel’s daughter, although their acquaintance takes a while to flourish, since most of the interactions with Klara, Memel and Mewe centre on teasing Lucy mercilessly. That, plus the fact that Klara has a boyfriend, the “exceptionally handsome” soldier, Adolphus.
One day, driven by boredom, Lucy decides to peek at that day’s letter from the Baron to the absent Baroness. “Why do the happy times dim in my memory, while the evil ones grow ever more vivid: And furthermore: why do I bother asking you anything anymore? A marvel: how can the days be so full of someone wholly absent?...the scope of your void humbles me. It is vast to the point that part of me hopes you have died.” Finally spurred to take action, the Baroness sends a letter to the Baron, informing him that she will be arriving shortly, to be followed two days later by her friends the Duke and Duchess and the Count and Countess. Once recovered from the shock engendered by this news, Olderglough, Agnes and Lucy must locate, apprehend, and attempt to restore the Baron to normality. This will be no easy feat, since “…they found no evidence he existed at all, save for the occasional discreet puddle or pile.” Lucy had only encountered him once, when a bony, disheveled figure paid a late night visit to his bedroom, and proceeded to snack on a rat.
Once their nearly insurmountable task had been accomplished, though, they were ready for the return of the Baroness and her guests. What follows is anything but genteel: the six aristocrats proceed to engage in frighteningly inappropriate and ribald after-dinner behaviour that provided a genuine affront to this reader’s delicate sensibilities. The remainder of the story follows the luckless Lucy’s pursuit of Klara, and includes a tragic and surprising encounter with The Great Big Hole, the gaping chasm at the edge of the village.
This book earns the coveted CUTTING THUMBS UP rating for sheer readability and entertainment value. The ambience and story-telling style of this very engaging, frequently hilarious novel reminded me of 1987’s classic film, The Princess Bride. It is available at the Lennoxville Library.