The Pattern in the Carpet: A Personal History with Jigsaws

If you are one of those people who think that nostalgia isn't what it used to be, this is the perfect book for you. This is a genre-defying mixture of memoir, personal reflection and history of jigsaws and children's games that only works because of the beautiful writing of Margaret Drabble that makes this a charming, quixotic, thoughtful and delightful book. In her foreword to the book, Drabble explains that having decided that her 2006 novel 'The Sea Lady` would be her last fiction book, her intention was to explore the idea of producing a small, specialist book on the history of jigsaws which she envisaged sitting on the shelves of many a museum and gallery bookstore, and hopefully providing the ideal `'stocking filler'` type book for enthusiastic puzzlers. But at some point in the process, the book morphed into much more than that. Most overtly, it became a hybrid of this history and a memoir of her Auntie Phyl, a former school teacher with whom Drabble shared happy hours of jigsaw puzzling. But in the process, something deeper emerged. It's well known that Drabble has suffered from periods of depression and that her recollections of her family and childhood are not all together happy (which she partly addressed in her novel 'The Peppered Moth`) and her strained relationship with her sister, A S Byatt has been well recorded. But in 'The Pattern in the Carpet` she focusses more on the happiness in the time with her Aunt as well as some wider thoughts of her own life, and exploring some of these images of a rural idyl of her youth without seeming to rake over old coals. The result is curiously uplifting and very personal. It would be possible to criticise this book for not being one thing or the other. As a memoir, it is only partial, and as a history of jigsaws it is obviously deeply researched, but hardly an academic treatise on the subject due to the chatty style. Drabble goes off on little tangents and incorporates wider issues of games, mosaics, miniature art, children's fiction - I'm desperately trying not to liken it to a puzzler's attention to different aspects before returning to the whole as the jigsaw metaphor seems lazy to me, but that's what it's like. Incidentally, she also explores the use of the jigsaw metaphor too! On jigsaws, what makes this so charming is that Drabble comes across as an enthusiastic fan rather than a fanatical enthusiast. She explores the mention of jigsaws in literature and portrayal in art as well as the development of the jigsaw from `dissected maps' to images of art. Curiously though, she doesn't explore the issues of mass production of puzzles. She references an impressive range of literature, art and research material, but it's never dry, and never preachy - albeit that if you are looking for a pure memoir, there's a LOT on jigsaws in it. Former teacher, Auntie Phyl would doubtless have admired her efforts at imparting learning. For good measure, there are joyous snippets, like the derivation of th

Margaret Drabble is the first to admit that this is not the book she set out to write. Initially conceived as a decorative history of jigsaws and childhood board games, //The Pattern in the Carpet// evolved into a hybrid form: a memoir of a life seen through jigsaw puzzles. The autobiographical pieces Drabble assembles revolve around her Aunt Phyl - an irascible old lady - and childhood memories of Bryn, the rural farmhouse in Nottinghamshire that Drabble's grandparents ran as a bed and breakfast. Tea sets and jigsaws, children's books and country life are the comforting elements she chooses to focus on, for good reason. Doing jigsaws, as well as writing about them, gives Drabble a sense of control at a time when her husband, biographer Michael Holroyd, is fighting cancer. They allow her to "defeat melancholy and avoid laments." Drabble's meditations on family history, depression, and writing are as intrinsic to this book as its more historical chapters focused on jigsaws (she does provide a solid history of the game). But we feel the missing pieces: everything she doesn't say about her estranged sister, novelist A.S. Byatt, and their unhappy childhood. Although this autobiographical puzzle is incomplete, it is still a pleasure to observe Drabble shuffling its parts. Reviewed by Catherine Hollis

Margaret Drabble is not afraid to write; and in recent years her work has become more direct, with just enough artifice to make a tale hang together. This book is to be sipped slowly,chapter by chapter, when a person feels the need to turn off CNN and sit down and have tea and conversation with a thoughtful, articulate friend. No crumpets are needed to accompany the earl grey, since her reminiscences and researched tidbits about jigsaw puzzles, human nature in general, and her family in particular, are themselves soooo sweet, soooo true.

For someone who likes doing jigsaws this is a must read. It brought together so many topics of interest to me personally that it was a book I couldn't put down. As well as giving historical information about the origin of jigsaws, she tells us some of her personal history. She quotes from and analyses several other books that I have read or meant to read, such as "Life: a user's manual" by Georges Perec. Drabble includes a wealth of whimsical and exotic trivia in her beautifully written memoir.