Maggie Gee consistently impresses me. It never ceases to amaze, therefore, that there is not a better critical appreciation of this author. My sense is that the reason for this disconnect is that Gee (like Ballard, for example) is hard to classify; she is somewhat experimental and often makes her readers feel uncomfortable. All of the above appears in spades in Where Are the Snows?, an ostensible account of the lives of two self-indulgent and self-obsessed sex-hungry romantics as they travel the world. Interestingly, this is the first Gee novel I have read where she writes on eroticism, and it is certainly fair to highlight that she handles the subject matter with more aplomb than many. To characterise the book as being about only this, though, is to miss the point. Many critics objected to the objectionable protagonists. Some may also have struggled with the shifting narrative/temporal perspectives. Nonetheless, Where Are the Snows? works: Hearing the story from multiple viewpoints draws the reader in. Much of the tragedy lies through misunderstanding (and we all have post hoc justifications for our behaviour). The trials and tribulations of Chris and Alexandra seem to me to be modelled somewhat on Antony and Cleopatra. In the background of the novel, environmental disaster — a familiar Gee trope (and also the origin of the novel's title) — features. It is all the more prescient given the book was written in 1991, despite its action being set across 1986 to 2007. 9/10.
By Maggie Gee