Madame Sosostris & the Festival for the Broken-Hearted, Ben Okri
Twenty years to the day after Viv’s husband mysteriously leaves her, she has the idea for a festival in honour of those who ‘have had their heart cracked’. Six months later, the grounds of a Chateau in the South of France are alive with guests arriving in an array of costumes for the inaugural Midsummer ball. Coming from far and wide, they are ‘all driven, all haunted by the infernal powers of love’ and desperate for a sight of the guest of honour, famed clairvoyant, Madame Sosostris.
Lifting his title character from TS Eliot’s The Waste Land, Ben Okri transports Madame Sosostris via an appearance in the House of Lords to an enchanted forest in France where the success of the festival relies on her appearance. When she is rumoured to not be attending, Viv must call in reinforcements to ensure her plan succeeds, because if ‘there is anything people like more than having their fortunes read, it’s their pasts abolished.’
Okri then dives into a magical four-part narrative, exploring the possibilities of disguise and departure from oneself, whilst also journeying into the very core of who that might be. How do we find our truest self beneath all the masks we wear? What is it they are afraid of, and how do we help them heal? He draws on ancient philosophies, the occult, Shakespearean wisdom and mythology, but it is the achingly simple concerns of the broken-hearted guests that draw us in most. In their desire for a reading, as one reveller confesses, ‘I want to know if I’m happy.’
There is as much healing as there is heartache in this beautiful book, and the metaphors of ‘bruised music’ and the sensory addition of flowers and ‘saffron winds’ are a delicate backdrop to each scene.
Whilst Eliot was writing during a collective human reckoning in the aftermath of WW1, when people looked desperately to a future beyond their ravaged world, Okri is writing during an equally fractious time. The dissonance between our personal worlds and the horrors outside them has never felt greater, although the concept of ‘real’ becomes ever more blurred. The lasting message of the book, however, is hopeful and one of possibility. By speaking the truth and acting with integrity, we can forge greater human connections and live as our full and authentic selves, as ultimately ‘we all need distractions, something we can feel good about.’
There is a note to the reader, advising you to ‘read slowly’ and, although it is easy to get swept away with the spirit of carnival, the direction is very welcome; the slower you read, the more you gain. Even though the novel is expansive, there are moments of such vulnerability amidst the chaos. It is a testament to Okri’s generosity and empathy as a writer that we end up feeling sympathy for the establishment elite, who, despite their snobbery, are just as wounded and afraid as the people they look down on.
Viv wonders to her friend, ‘how many incarnations are suppressed in us?’ and Okri beautifully depicts a world where we set those incarnations free. Madame Sosostris & The Festival for The Broken Hearted is just as much about absolving ourselves of regret and acknowledging our potential as it is the power of a truly magical party.
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