Tag Archives: Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

The Family from One End Street by Eve Garnett

Published in 1937, a couple of years before the outbreak of war, this story of a large family appealed greatly to me when I read it 20 years later. At that time, the life of the family did not seem so different from what I saw about me. Their outlook, their general attitude is now called Blitz spirit. I had misremembered where the Ruggles lived, fixed in my mind that it was in the East End of London, where a cheerful approach to life’s challenges prevailed, we were told. One End Street was in Otwell, a fictional town on the river Ouse.

Eve Garnett portrayed a real family, although in a somewhat idealised manner. They lived in a town, had neighbours, the parents had jobs, the children achieved variously at school. The appeal of this large and active family is enhanced by the illustrations, by the author. It was, to my mind, an ideal Puffin book, and set the standard for my reading for several years.

  

The Family from One End Street

The Ruggles family was even larger than mine with seven children. But there were two big differences, the Ruggles lived in a town and they were poor, working class. Mrs Ruggles, Rosie, took in laundry and Mr Ruggles earned a living by collecting rubbish – a dustman as we called them. The reader is introduced to all 7 children through the device of finding names for their Christenings. 

The chapter headings indicate the spirit of the book:

  • The Christenings
  • Lily Rose and the Green Silk Petticoat
  • The Gang of the Black Hand
  • The Adventure of the Parked Car
  • The Baby Show
  • What Mr Ruggles Found
  • The Perfect Day

There is a great deal of humour in these stories. For example, Lily Rose, the oldest child, decides to help her mother by doing some ironing and starts with a green silk petticoat.

She spread out the petticoat carefully, took what she thought to be the cool iron from the stove and began. She made one long sweep up and down with the iron, and oh! what was happening! The petticoat was shrinking … shrinking … shrivelling up … running away before her eyes! Smaller and smaller it grew, while Lily Rose gazed fascinated and as if rooted to the spot, her eyes and mouth round ‘o’s of horror! 
At last the shrinking seemed to stop and there it lay, the beautiful green silk petticoat, no bigger than a doll’s – too small even for William [the baby], – had he worn such things! (25)

How well Eve Garnett captures that feeling of horror when a well-intentioned child finds her actions have taken a terrible turn. Following this dreadful event, Lily Rose must own up to the owner of the petticoat, Mrs Beasley, who is one of Rosie’s best clients. For Rosie has a strong moral code that she requires her children to live by.

Not long after the episode with the petticoat, Mr Ruggles finds a great deal of money in the rubbish he has collected. It would feed all his dreams, of owning a pig, and of taking the family to the grand Cart Horse Parade in London. Honesty brings its rewards on both occasions, but the reader is treated to a dilemma familiar to young people: to own up or to hide the truth. 

Jo’s jersey

The children have adventures. The twins, Jim and John are required to have adventures when they join the Gang of the Black Hand. They both have misadventures, stowed away in a barge and a car, with some scary moments and great outcomes. Kate gets to go to the seaside with some school friends, but her precious school hat gets blown away and she tries to earn the money to replace it. Her adventure picking mushrooms, is also nearly a catastrophe. 

But her original hat is returned by a stranger, and the reader is introduced to another theme of these stories: the kindness of strangers, who frequently rescue the children and boost their material resources. Often this is in response to the resourcefulness of the children in the face of poverty: for example, Jo manages to get members of the orchestra at the local cinema to provide him with a ticket. They found him asleep in the orchestra pit, waiting for the feature to begin.

Not everyone is generous and kind. Mrs Smith-next-door-but-two makes unkind judgements one Sunday about the children’s appearances and is known by Rosie as Mrs Nosey Parker. She goes round to investigate Rosie Ruggles’s situation. 

A strange sight met her eyes when the door was opened; nothing less than Mrs Ruggles in her petticoat and jumper, her hair in curling pins, an iron I her hand, while through a mist of steam and airing clothes could be faintly seen the figure of Mr Ruggles, clothed only in pants (no better than one of them Nudists you read about, as Mrs Smith said to her husband later) busily engaged in polishing a pair of yellow-brown boots! What a spectacle for Sunday afternoon! Mrs Smith’s sympathy evaporated and righteous indignation filled her heart. (243)

The Ruggles family are preparing for a special event, the climax of this book: the Cart Horse Parade in London.

We read of a family bonded by love and pride in each other’s achievements. Everyone is disappointed when William fails to win the Grand Challenge Cup in the Baby Show. His teeth were too slow to come through, but he is awarded the title of Otwell’s Best Baby and his parents get a prize of £1 note. Kate passes the 11+ (Eleven Plus). 

Her photograph appeared in the paper, and the whole family had sardines and chocolate biscuits for tea to celebrate the event! (42)

This is the ‘30s, and free secondary education is not yet universal. Furthermore Kate will need special clothes for five years, not hand-me-downs. Her place is in jeopardy in the face of such expense, until Mr Ruggles fills in a form for a grant. His writing is not good, and in the box where he must say how many children he has the number 7 appears at first as a figure 1. It was a genuine problem for parents, especially parents of girls, how to support them in secondary school where family funds were so limited.

Eve Garnett also celebrates the ambitions and dreams of her characters, such as Kate’s ambition to continue her education. The climax to the stories is the fulfilment of the Ruggles’s wish to join Uncle Charlie in a winning cart in the Cart Horse Parade in Regent’s Park in London at Whitsun. The family have plenty of adventures that day, in the lake, arrested by a policeman for picking the flowers, and losing Jo who had swapped his designated but tight jersey for one of his father’s. It was, said Rosie, a perfect day.

The reading is easy, the stories flow, and the charm is full blown. Eve Garnett wrote a sequel, which was not published until 1956 as it had to be reassembled from a fire in her home: The Further Adventures of the Family from One End Street.

1937 Club

The 1937 Club is organised by two bloggers: Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings and Stuck in a Book. Bloggers post their responses to books published in 1937 on their own blogs and these are listed on the organisers’ pages. I always enjoy identifying a book to fit the club year. 

The Family from One End Street by Eve Garnett, first published in 1937. I read the Puffin Book edition from 2014. Illustrations by Eve Garnett. 304pp

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David Golder by Irène Némirovsky

The author, Irène Némirovsky, is frequently defined by her death in Auschwitz in 1942 at the age of 39. When she published David Golder, she was 26 and just setting out on her successful career as a writer. David Golder was the first novel to bring her success and was published in French in 1929. It was made into a film just two years later. At the time she was taken to Auschwitz she had written 14 novels. 

David Golder is my choice for the 1929 club (see below).

David Golder

This novel is very much of its time, written just before the Great Crash (1929) that changed economics and the world for ever. And the novel appeared before the Nazis had a strong hold on Germany and Europe and before they made anti-Semitism official state policy. It was a time of reckless pursuit of great wealth. There was a kind of internationalism of the wealthy as they moved from country to country in search of more lucrative deals. This even included Soviet Russia (barely a decade into its existence) and the US. The action of the novel takes place mostly in France, but the characters mention or move between many European countries and many, like the author, have migrated to live in a new country in the turbulent post-war world.

David Golder is a ruthless Jewish businessman living in France but with origins in the Russian Empire in Ukraine. He has made his money through deals in oil. The story opens when his friend and colleague of many years asks him for help and Golder refuses. Marcus commits suicide.

Unsettled by the death of his former colleague and the depressed state of his various negotiations Golder decides to take a break in Biarritz where he has a house, and where his wife, Gloria, and his daughter, Joyce, live lives of indulgence in idle luxury. On the train he falls ill with a heart attack but recovers for a while. Pushed by his daughter who is demanding a new car he visits a casino but faints and is confined to bed. Here he is forced to consider his life, especially as his wife and daughter are even more money-grabbing than he is. 

Joyce begs him for a new car when he arrives in Biarritz, but he claims not to be able to afford it. She responds:

‘It’s just that I have to have everything on earth, otherwise I’d rather die! Everything! Everything!’ she repeated with an imperious, feverish look in her eyes. (50)

Later she is prepared to marry a rich old man rather than live without money. Her mother has the same, entitled attitude. As Golder is recovering from another heart attack and preparing to travel again for business, she approaches him:

‘Make some arrangements [for me]. To start with, put this house in my name. If you were a good husband, you would have made sure I had a proper fortune of my own long ago! I have nothing at all.’ (94)

Golder is contrasted later to his only friend, Soifer, with whom he plays cards while recuperating in Paris. Soifer is so mean (‘a meanness bordering on madness’) that he walks on tiptoe to save shoe leather, takes public transport rather than spend money on taxis, and refuses to buy dentures. But when he dies, he leaves ‘a fortune of some thirty million francs, thus fulfilling till the end the incomprehensible destiny of every good Jew on this earth.’ (117)

The pursuit of wealth is without merit, Irène Némirovsky is suggesting. It poisons relationships, it brings little joy, it distorts ambition, and imprisons the fortune hunter. Golder, his wife Gloria and his daughter Joyce, and his friend Soifer, are reprehensible human beings. 

On the boat to Constantinople David Golder meets a young man, from his own village, who is setting out on the same path that Golder followed years before. He warns the young man of a grim future.

‘You know you’re going to starve to death, don’t you?’ he said sharply.
‘Oh, I’m used to that …’
‘Yes … But over there, it’s harder …’
‘What’s the difference? It won’t be for long …’
Golder suddenly burst out laughing, a laugh as dry and sharp as a whip.
‘So that’s what you think, do you? Well, you’re a fool! It lasts for years, years … And after that, to tell the truth, it’s hardly any better …’
‘After that …’ the boy whispered passionately, ‘after that you get rich …’
‘After that,’ replied Golder, ‘you die, alone, like a dog, the same way you lived …’ (152)

Despite Golder’s warning, we know that the young man will follow the same path, and indeed he takes Golder’s wallet and abandons him.

Irène Némirovsky

Irène Némirovsky

Irène Némirovsky  was born in Kyiv in 1903, then part of the Russian empire. The Némirovsky family fled to Helsinki when the Revolution of 1917 saw the end of the empire. After a year they settled in Paris, where her father rebuilt his business as a banker. Despite her origins, Irène Némirovsky wrote in French and believed herself and her family safe in France from anti-Semitic feeling. 

Some readers have suggested that Irène Némirovsky hated Jews and have suggested that the character of David Golder, and of Soifer, are evidence of this. While Soifer is something of a caricature, it is a caricature of meanness, not of Jewishness. And Golder represents the ruthless, amoral pursuit of wealth through speculation that brought Western economies to their knees in the Great Crash the same year in which this book was published. 

In my view David Golder is a novel that explores the corruption of personal standards, of moral values, of human relationships that the pursuit of wealth brings with it. No-one in this novel is happy. Only the young man has hope of a better future, and he has been warned that this is a chimera. In my view Irène Némirovsky was writing about a world with which she was familiar, not expressing anti-Semitic sentiments.

The 1929 Club

The 1929 Club, organised by Stuck in a Book and Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings bloggers post their responses to books published in 1929 on their blogs and these are listed on the organisers’ pages.

Stuck in a Book reviewed this novel in March 2010, and you can find the review by clicking on this link.

Heavenali also reviewed David Golder, in August 2016, and admired it. Her review is here.

David Golder, first edition cover

David Golder by Irène Némirovsky, first published in French in 1929. English translation by Sandra Smith published by Vintage in 2007. 159pp

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Devon: scene of two crimes

The drought has turned fields yellow in Devon, so that with the dark hedge lines and trees in full leaf the landscape resembles those railway posters, and the covers of murder mysteries.

I read two such novels with A DEVON MYSTERY writ large on their covers. They have these things in common:

  • They are both set in Devon, but Devon in the past – in the 1930s and the 1950s.
  • The murder victims are both very unpleasant
  • The cases are solved by the writers’ favourite detectives.
  • They have been reprinted in the British Library Crime Classic series, with their familiar railway poster covers – one is actually from Somerset.

I’m not a great reader of crime classics and chose these because they featured Devon where I live. But as I want my friends and neighbours to live peaceably in Devon, I won’t be reading any more for a while.

Murder in the Mill-Race by ECR Lorac (1952)

The Seat of the Scornful by John Dickson-Carr (1942)

Murder in the Mill-Race 

This Devon mystery is set in a village where everyone closes ranks to protect the murderer. The horrible Sister Monica who runs the local children’s home, is found dead in the village stream, but no one is saying anything helpful about it. Dr Farens and his wife are newly arrived in the village and at the start of the novel we follow their amateur explorations and discussions of the event. 

Later Scotland Yard’s Chief Inspector Macdonald is brought in to solve the case, together with Detective Inspector Reeves. In the process of their enquiries Sister Monica is found to be neither a religious nor a nursing sister, and that over many years she has been controlling everyone through knowing their secrets, spreading stories and extorting money. Everyone hated her, and yet the villagers will not break their silence about the identity of the culprit and are not averse to providing a false clue or two. Of course, the Scotland Yard team crack the case in the end.

The village I live in bears no resemblance to Milham on the Moor. We have no mill, no children’s home, no lady of the manor ruling over everyone, and no country doctor’s practice (but we do have a modern Health Centre). I have lived here for nine years, and as far as I know there has been no murder here in that time. The village does however have a strong connection to The Hound of the Baskervilles, but that is another matter.

ECR Lorac was the pen name of Edith Caroline Rivett (1894-1958) who was a prolific writer of crime fiction from the 1930s to the 1950s.

Murder in the Mill-Race by ECR Lorac, first published in 1952. British Library Crime Classics series edition published in 2019. 252pp

The Seat of the Scornful

Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. [Psalm 1]

We meet a rather self-satisfied High Court judge, Mr Justice Ireton, as he sentences a man to death for the murder of his wife. He appears to enjoy a game of cat-and-mouse for he acknowledges to his chess-playing friend Dr Fell, that the man will have his sentence reduced on his recommendation at a later date. He has no sympathy for criminals. Dr Fell asks this rather unpleasant man, 

‘Can’t you ever see yourself in the position of the man in the dock?’ (32)

Drawing on the game of chess he has just won the judge explains why he behaves as he does when sentencing.

‘It consists in letting your opponent think he‘s perfectly safe, winning hands down and then catching him in a corner. You would probably call it the cat-and-mouse gambit’ (34)

He sits foursquare in the seat of the scornful. Then Judge Ireton is found in his home with a revolver and a dead man on the carpet in front of him. And on this occasion it looks like he is guilty. The dead man is a charming rogue, but one with a highly developed desire for vengeance. He is also described by a character as an Eye-talian, which is obnoxious, but in 1942, when the novel was published, Britain and the US was at war with Italy.

The setting is the coast of Devon, in easy reach of Tiverton and some fictional holiday spots. The local Assizes having finished, the judge has rented a bungalow here for the summer, which is somewhat isolated from the nearest village. It is here that the murder victim is found. The isolated road, the small town where people are known, the local resort are the backdrop to the crime.

An intricate plot involves the judge’s daughter – it is her fiancé who is found dead – the judge’s mentee a barrister called Fred Barlow, a young woman in love with him and the good doctor who is helping Inspector Graham to solve the case. There is a revolver, sand in the wrong place, a disappearing tramp, a stuffed moose’s head and a pool party. Dr Fell sets up a cat and mouse game and entraps the murderer.

The author was an American, married to an English woman and he spent much of his life in Britain. Martin Edwards, in his Introduction, suggests that this crime novel explores the moral aspects of murder: can murder ever be justified? Is weakness an excuse for crime? It is not your usual locked room mystery.

The Seat of the Scornful by John Dickson-Carr first published in 1942 and reissued in the British Library Crime Classics series in 2022. 236pp

Related Post

KaggsysBookishRamblings reviewed this earlier this month. She is full of praises for the intricate plot and is particularly impressed by the well-developed characterisation, which contrasts with many crime novels.

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Under the Net by Iris Murdoch

This novel was Iris Murdoch’s first and I chose it as my contribution to the 1954 Club (see below). I was at first reluctant because I am more than a little intimidated by Iris Murdoch. I think it’s the words ‘moral philosopher’ that are often coupled with her name. I don’t know what that is. And when I began reading about this novel, Under the Net, I came across the name of Wittgenstein, and something about his lectures in Oxford. 

All the same, I enjoyed many aspects of this novel, although I am not sure that I will read more of her fiction any time soon.

Under the Net

I believe that it Under the Net is a picaresque novel. The hero, Jake, and his friends certainly dash about London and meet with some very surprising adventures, coincidences and strange characters. Jake tells his own story, and thus provides us with insights into his attitude to life.

We first meet the Jake on his return to London from Paris (he works as a translator) when he finds that he and his side-kick Finn have been kicked out of the flat they were living in – rent free. It belonged to Jake’s girlfriend Marge.  Jake is a writer, not very energetic, and not very successful. Being without accommodation precipitates a series of crazy adventures: Sammy wants to move into Marge’s flat, but it appears that he steals a manuscript from Jake, and is involved in a plot with the sister another of Jake’s ex-girlfriends, Anna, to make a film. Sadie is a well-known film star. The plot becomes crazier as Jake and his friends kidnap a performing dog, Mr Mars, to hold hostage against the return of his manuscript. Jake’s old friend Hugo, with whom Jake fell out some years before and who is extremely rich and big in the film business, gets involved too, as does Lefty …

The scenes include a shop near Charlotte Street, run by Mrs Tinckham, overrun with cats, but a place where Jake can leave his luggage while he chasers Anna, and searches for somewhere to live. Mrs Tinck acts as a poste restante which is useful at a time when there were no mobile phones. Mrs Tinck doesn’t appear to sell anything.

The props room at the mime theatre provides some strong visual images (see the cover of the Penguin edition). The scene where Mr Mars is kidnapped is quite hilarious as they are forced to take the cage as well as the dog, put it in a taxi and then release the dog. Mr Mars becomes a faithful companion to Jake, but not suitable for ransom demands. There’s a riot caused by the police breaking up one of Lefty’s meetings on the set of a film. There is a midnight swim in the Thames when the friends have failed to find Hugo, despite following the note on his door which says, ‘Down the Pub’. Jake takes a job as a hotel porter, and when an injured Hugo comes onto his ward, he hatches a plot to spring him, which involves a great deal of complication. 

Jake is also averse to chance, contingencies, but constantly falls over them. 

There are some parts in London which are necessary and others which are contingent. Everywhere west of Earls Court is contingent, except for a few places along the river. I hate contingency. I want everything in my life to have a sufficient reason. (26)

Everything that happens to Jake is contingent, always seeking someone, rarely finding them and never where he expects them to be. He chases Hugo without success but comes across him unexpectedly at the studio and in the hospital. Perhaps Iris Murdoch is reminding us that whatever theory we use to understand the world, we are at the mercy of whatever life sends our way. 

As he rushes about, we see that not everything is as it appears: the aftermath of the riot on the film set of the Roman city is a good example.

All was changed. The whole of Rome was now horizontal and out of its ruins an immense cloud of dust was rising, thick as a fog in the glare of the lamps. In the arena, like a formal picture of the battle of Waterloo, stood a mass of black figures, some mounted on horses, others standing on top of cars, and others on foot marshalling into neat groups. A voice was saying something blurred through a loudspeaker. The foreground looked more like the moment after the battle. The ground was strewn with legless torsos and halves of men and others cut off at the shoulders, all of whom, however, were lustily engaged in restoring themselves to wholeness by dragging the hidden parts of their anatomy out from under the flat wedges of scenery, which lay now like a big pack of cards, some still showing bricks and marble, while others revealed upon their prostrate backs the names of commercial firms and instructions to the scene shifter. (169)

Even the final explanation for all these misadventures is misunderstood by Jake, who manages to mistake the reference to ‘she’ for a whole page, before he (and us) backtrack and understand that Jake has misread everything. 

I enjoyed the escapades across London, the Holborn Viaduct and the pub crawl, the river at Hammersmith, the Goldhawk Road area. He even chases the elusive Anna in Paris. It’s what Michael Wood called ‘a very sprightly read’ in his LRB article.

Iris Murdoch

Born in 1919 Iris Murdoch pursued a career in philosophy, teaching at St Anne’s College, Oxford from 1948 – 1963. Under the Net was the first of the 26 novels published by Iris Murdoch between 1954 and 1995. She died in 1999.

I have always been a little reluctant to engage with the philosophy in Iris Murdoch’s fiction. This is quite light, but the title refers to notion from Wittgenstein about how we know and describe the world. Apparently, he referred to as net and she challenges this by saying look under the net where real life happens.

Another from my mother’s books from the World Book Club.

Under the Net by Iris Murdoch published in 1954. I used the edition from the World Book Club 286pp. A recent edition has been published by Vintage.

Related posts

Don’t Worry about the Pronouns by Michael Wood on London Review of Books website in January 2019.

JacquiWine’s Journal review of Under the Net from November 2019.

The 1954 Club, organised by Stuck in a Book and Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings Bloggers post their responses to books published in 1954 on their blogs and these are listed on the organisers’ pages.

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Reports of the Death of Book Blogs …

Reports of the Death of Book Blogs are a little premature, perhaps even exaggerated. The question being asked on this post is: is book blogging dying? Right, posing the question on a book blog provides the answer– the book blog is not dead. This book blog is not dead. This, after all, is my 721st post since I began Bookword in December 2012. 

I pose the question because three times in the last week I have come across reports of the demise of the book blog. I have never come across this suggestion before, but I can spot a trend. Three suggestions in one week – perhaps book blogging is on its way out.

Checking the possibility

So, I looked online. Actually, there was no evidence for the death at all, although it is claimed that other social media activities (TickTock or podcasting, for example) are pushing out blogging. There is no evidence for the claim which is perhaps based on individual experience and taste.

It’s a little like the promise of the paperless office. Remember that? In my experience workplaces use paper andon-line file management. In the workplace where I volunteer the IT is so unreliable that we have to manage with both paper and online files, and in every office there are piles of paper and people staring at computer screens. I suspect that there are an increasing number of podcasts about books now, but they exist alongside book blogs.

I asked Google (a typed question not a spoken query) if book blogging was dead. Google replied promptly by presenting me with a list of the top 100 book blogs based in the US, and several rather older and similar lists. I added UK to my question and came across another list of 100 top book blogs. If there are 200 top blogs in the US and the UK then book blogging is clearly not dead. 

The criteria for being top (or the best) are not provided. Nor was information about who compiled the list. My inner researcher (yes, I used to work in a university) was despairing of these lapses, but my basic question is answered. Book blogging is not dead.

Indeed, I couldn’t find any evidence that it is even ailing. Perhaps it arises from an assumption that if podcasts are increasingly popular, blogging will be less popular. People used to say that Kindle and other digital readers would spell the end of ‘real’ books. Again, both seem to thrive. It’s a question of plurality, of variousness not of a zero sum.

Book Blogs Live

I went back to the list of 100 top book blogs and noted some blogs that I am familiar with. And I noticed that among the ‘toppest’ were many corporate sites: publishers, periodicals, professional bloggers. I don’t think these existed in such great numbers when I started Bookword, but since their purpose is, among other things, to sell books I conclude that they see a value in blogging.

The more individual blogs, the ones where people just like to write about books they are reading, these blogs also appeared in the list. I enjoy these more. We often leave comments on each other’s blogs. We promote each other’s sites on Twitter. 

The list also included information on how often the blogger posts. The frequency ranged from 10 a week through to once a quarter (ie four times a year, or once every three months). These were the extremes, most seemed to post around once a week. (Here on Bookword it’s every 5 days, but I think I am going to slow down slightly to join the once a weekers.)

Flexibility

One of the great things about blogging is its flexibility: form, content, style, frequency, birth and death. There are no rules.

I began my blog to connect with other readers who like writing and talking about books. I keep going because I still want to do that. That’s why I read other blogs. Even if DoveGreyReader has disappeared, there are still many great bloggers out there. Here are some of the blogs that I keep visiting:

Book Bloggers: keep on blogging!

Related posts

Book Blogging Is Dead, But That’s Okay on FrappesandFiction. The blogger explains why she likes blogging about books (March 2022)

Being a Nice Book Blogger – a post looking at the claim that book blogging was harming literature (March 2017).

The death of real books/the end of e-books – a post looking at the sales of ebooks and real books, both holding up at that time (August 2017)

It was Mark Twain, btw, who said, ‘the report of my death was an exaggeration’. He is often misquoted.

Picture credit for Blog Cortega9 on WikiCommons.

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Woman on the Edge of Time by Marge Piercy

Rereading this novel from 1976, I was reminded of how important books were in the women’s movement of the time – now rebranded as Second Wave Feminism. I found that the future world created by Marge Piercy was impressive and influential. It was the possibility of this or other futures that I remembered from my first reading, so much so that I had forgotten Consuela’s struggles with the mental health system of New York that carried the plot. I remembered Consuela visiting the brave new world, and her surprise at what she found and was shown. It was an effective vehicle for describing a different way of life. 

Now I have reread the novel, 45 years after its first publication, I can see that Marge Piercy was also suggesting that the way in which women were being treated in 1976 was laying the foundation for the dystopian futures that Consuela also visits. In those futures, sexual subservience, enforced by controlling women’s minds, was enabled by the experiments in which Connie was unwittingly and unwillingly enrolled. 

 

Woman on the Edge of Time

Consuela is a Mexican-American living in New York in the ‘70s. She is assaulted by her niece’s pimp and ends up in an asylum, where she had been incarcerated after a previous breakdown. This time she has just been tidied away, except that she might be useful in an experiment that one of the doctors is undertaking. Desperate to escape, when Consuela is contacted by Luciente she willingly goes with her into the future, returning now and again. At first, we do not realise that Luciente’s community called Mattapoisett hopes that Connie can stop the programme that she is about to be put on. From time to time she passes over to visit Luciente and her friends and learns more about the feminist-socialist community being developed.

Connie is identified as suitable for a new treatment for violent patients: implanting neurotransmitters to control behaviour. She is unable to resist becoming part of this programme, despite an escape attempt.

On two occasions Connie travels to the future but fails to arrive at the Mattapoisett of her friends, instead joining them in a war they are losing against robotic weaponry and on the second occasion finding a woman who has been physically enhanced and is controlled by sophisticated neurotransmitters to be a sex save, confined in a managed and artificial environment. 

Eventually Connie is due for her final fitting at the New York Neuro-Psychiatric Institute. Her ability to control her behaviour is about to be removed, and if she cannot prevent it, the community of Mattapoisett will not be able to establish itself. Their destinies have become entwined.

Reading Woman on the Edge of Time for the first time

It is one of the greatest gifts of good fiction, that the reader can be shown a different world, a different way that things can be. Marge Piercy has said that she wanted to show readers that there were choices about the future, that it did not roll out with inevitability. Science Fiction is especially good at this.

For me it was the idea that people did not need to live in a world where everything was defined by gender: two examples: the language can be changed (per/person instead of she or he is used in this book); Connie is not initially aware that Luciente is a woman because she doesn’t dress or move like one. More significantly, with the use of artificial pregnancy and birth, gender-based roles in society have been removed and in Marge Piercy’s imagined community persons are free to follow what they are good at. Furthermore, the community is organised for the benefit of all. It is not only feminist and socialist but also ecologically organised to care for a much-damaged earth. 

This vision of different possible futures was what I took away from this book on my first reading. It was powerful. It was not inevitable that we would march into such a destructive future. But we perhaps we have all the same. 

The future from the past

Some of her ideas have turned out to be well-founded. For example, everyone wears a ‘kenner’ on their wrists, familiar to Star Trek fans as ‘communicators’ and to Ursula le Guin readers as ‘ansibles’. We call them cell phones or mobile phones. And from time to time in Mattapoisett many people meet on one screen in a prediction that looks a lot like zooming.

Sadly, the treatment of women from ethnic minorities remains a subject of concern four decades on. There is much in the novel about how women, especially Mexican or Latino and also Puerto Rican women were treated in the ‘70s, and how women who wanted to take some control over their lives were often defeated by the men in their communities, using violence, incarceration and drugs. 

I have been asking myself how I initially came across this book. I think it must have been a combination of things: I was very fond of Marge Piercy’s poetry in the early ‘70s and would have been attracted to her fiction. Perhaps I was offered the book by the Feminist Press Book Club. My first edition was certainly published by them, now with its glue failing, and the pages all brown. Perhaps it was reviewed in Spare Rib, or I heard about it by word of mouth, or from my consciousness raising group.

Whatever, I was pleased to reread it for the 1976 Club, organised again by Stuck in a Book and Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

Woman on the Edge of Time by Marge Piercy, first published in 1976 and recently by Penguin in 2019. My first copy was published by the Feminist Press in UK in 1979. 417 pp

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Mr Skeffington by Elizabeth von Arnim

To begin with I thought Mr Skeffington was about ageing. It was recommended as an addition to the older women in fiction series. Then I thought it was about how pre-war society calculated a woman’s value by her looks and how losing her beauty meant losing her status. Then this book turned very dark, with a denouement suitable for the time of publication – 1940. It is about all these things, moving from one theme to another, sometimes in a rather schematic way.

Mr Skeffington

At the start of the novel Fanny Skeffington is rich, approaching 50 and recovering from a bout of Diphtheria. She was rich because of the generous settlement of her husband at their divorce following his infidelities. As she recovers, she finds herself thinking of him a great deal, even imagining him in her house, behind the fish-dish.

Fanny, who had married Mr Skeffington, and long ago, for reasons she considered compelling, divorced him, after not having given him a thought for years, began, to her surprise to think of him a great deal. If she shut her eyes, she could see him behind the fish-dish at breakfast; and presently, even if she didn’t shut her eyes, she could see him behind almost anything. (1)

Up until this point she has been beautiful and men have loved her for it and she basked in their admiration. Fanny enjoyed her independence, which meant being rich and therefore not obliged to remarry.

She seeks the advice of her former admirers in order to set her life right again, which means no longer seeing Mr Skeffington in her house and regaining the admiration of admirers. Here is the formulaic aspect of the novel. She meets her admirers in turn and each one thinks how her beauty is ruined and they no longer wish to put themselves out for her. They recognize no qualities in her, only that she is no longer a beauty. 

Fanny comes to realise that she has lost her looks, and that her beauty was an empty commodity.

Beauty; beauty. What was the good of beauty, once it was over? It left nothing behind it but acid regrets, and no heart at all to start fresh. Nearly everything else left something. Husbands, for instance, left, or ought to leave children, and then one could be busy with them, and with their children. It was, she felt, one of her most just grievances against Job [her former husband] that she was childless. (57)

She finds it hard to know what she can do with her life, her beauty gone, no children or grandchildren to be interested in and her cousins wanting to provide her with a quiet party to celebrate her half century. 

The novel follows Fanny as she is gradually disabused of her value to society, of her beauty and she begins to take account of her advancing years as she meets strangers and former acquaintances and admirers. These meetings are the occasion for a great deal of gentle and comic writing. For example the sister of Miles, an especially eloquent admirer who has become an inspirational preacher in Bethnal Green, is led to believe she is a fallen woman – a prostitute, which in some senses she has been. Then there is the leerily disgusting colonial, a man used to getting his way at all times, who has come back to reclaim and marry the Fanny he remembers, only to fail to recognise her. As they disabuse her of her former powers, she comes to more fully appreciate her strengths. 

Job Skeffington is Jewish. In the early part of the novel we learn that he found it easy to attract money, and her marriage to him helped Fanny to secure her own family’s financial stability. There are also many references to the European Situation, which we learn is bad and getting worse. Finally Fanny learns from George that Mr Skeffington had been in Vienna

Vienna wasn’t exactly a healthy place for a Jew, and he was soon in serious trouble – for a moment George didn’t seem able to go on, seemed to be staring, with horror in his eyes, at something he could hardly credit, – such serious trouble that he was lucky to get away with his bare life, if bare life, said George, his eyes full of that incredulous horror, could be called lucky, and was now in London, and on the rocks. (221) 

By the time her friend and cousin George brings Mr Skeffington to her in person she finds herself able to understand how her life might have more meaning in the future than she had feared. She wants a future being of use to him.

The Older Women in Fiction series features women over 60, so Fanny does not qualify being about to turn 50. But this novel is about ageing and how women brought up to trade on their looks have little currency if that is all they have. Fanny turns out to be made of more.

Elizabeth von Arnim

This was Elizabeth von Arnim’s final novel. She died in 1941 at the age of 74, having escaped the European war for America. She seems to celebrate independent woman, and then to criticise those who value beauty in a woman above all else. But the novel ends on a note warning against valuing appearances. It is somewhat uneven in its tone, with plenty of gentle humour and also a very sombre tone to end as Mr Skeffington returns.

Mr Skeffington by Elizabeth von Arnim, first published in 1940 and reissued by Virago in 1993. 233pp

Related posts

The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim (on Bookword in August 2017)

Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings reviewed Mr Skeffington and remembered the 1944 film starring Bette Davies and Claude Rains.

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After Leaving Mr Mackenzie by Jean Rhys

My choice for the 1930s club is After Leaving Mr Mackenzie by Jean Rhys. Published in 1930, it was her second novel, and is set in sad rooms in Paris and Bloomsbury in London. Julia is a young woman who has no independent means of support. 

The 1930s Club is hosted by Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings and Simon at Stuck in a Book. You read a book from the year and post your thoughts on it, linking to their blogs. Simples, and a great way to pick a book that you might not otherwise read. It suits me perfectly, because I don’t want to chase new books all the time, but reread books and read published books, especially from the 20th century. 

After Leaving Mr Mackenzie

Janet finds herself in a sad room in a down at heel hotel in Paris after she has split up from Mr Mackenzie. It is clear that she has been financially dependent upon the men she slept with, but Mr Mackenzie’s solicitor has cut off her weekly allowance.

What is she to do? Increasingly desperate she finds Mr Mackenzie in a restaurant and challenges him. Later she is pursued by Mr Horsfield who takes pity on her but cannot manage her. She returns to London, where her sister Norah is behaving properly but is no more successful than her. Their mother dies and Janet gets nothing. She returns to Paris and continues to sink. In the last scene she once again receives money from Mr Mackenzie.

It’s a novel about managing life, or rather about the mistaken idea that life can be controlled. Propped up by convention the men believe they do control it, but it is clear that Julia challenges this notion.

Is this autobiography?

The young Jean Rhys

‘How this hopelessly inept, seemingly incomplete woman could write with such clarity, power and grace remains a mystery,’ said her editor, Diana Athill.

And indeed it might appear that this novel is autobiographical. Other sources suggest that while Jean Rhys drew from her experiences, there is a crucial difference: 

‘A novel has to have a shape, and life doesn’t have any.’ 

This quotation from the author can be found in Diana Athill’s introduction to Smile Please: an unfinished autobiography by Jean Rhys (1979).

Much of After Leaving Mr Mackenzie concerns people trying to control their lives. Janet is poor at it, and moves from one gentleman to another, borrowing money and asking favours. She appears to be managing very badly. The men in her life, and her sister, are not doing much better. The men draw on conventions to try to appear in control. But Mr Mackenzie is at a loss when Julia appears in the restaurant in which he is dining. She complains that his lawyer has said there will be no more cheques. 

Mr Mackenzie thought, ‘Never again – never, never again – will I get mixed up with this sort of woman.’

His collar felt too tight for him. He thrust his chin out in an instinctive effort to relieve the constriction. The movement was exactly like that of a horse shying. (25) 

Mr Mackenzie vacillates between horror of what she might do and attempts to humiliate her. After a moment, this happens.

A cunning expression came into Julia’s face. She picked up her glove and hit his cheek with it, but so lightly that he did not even blink.

‘I despise you,’ she said.

‘Quite,’ said Mr Mackenzie. He sat very straight, staring at her.

Her eyes did not drop, but a mournful and beaten expression came into them.

‘Oh, well,’ she said, ‘all right. Have it your own way.’

Then, to Mr Mackenzie’s unutterable relief, she gathered up her gloves and walked out of the restaurant. (26)

Jean Rhys, while she suffered from men’s behaviour towards her, did not resent them. Indeed she claimed in a radio interview that writing about such incidents, while autobiographical, was also therapeutic. It purged her unhappiness. Once something had been written out, she said, it was done with. (Quoted by Diana Athill in Smile Please).

Jean Rhys was innovative in this novel, for example she uses multiple points of view to show her protagonist’s situation. We are taken into the heads of the people she meets, or reports on, and by this means we are shown how Janet is a challenge to people. She has not left Mr Mackenzie at the start of the novel, although she does leave him at the end. He is still as self-satisfied as at the start, and while he may not want to be ensnared by another woman like Julia, we know that he will go on exploiting women.

Julia, in short, is like that person on the street whose eye you do not want to catch. She makes you feel uncomfortable. Yet you pity her for not managing her life. But in truth all lives are, to some degree, unmanageable. We are all just a small step away from chaos or disaster or poverty. 

No one who has read Jean Rhys’s first four novels [After Leaving Mr Mackenzie was her second] can suppose that she was good at life; but no one who never met her could know how very bad at it she was. [Diana Athill in Stet.] 

After Leaving Mr Mackenzie by Jean Rhys, was first published in 1930. I used the  Penguin Modern Classic edition (2000) with an introduction by Lorna Sage. 138pp

Good Morning, Midnight by Jean Rhys was reviewed on Bookword in July 2013.

The Romantic Life of the writer Jean Rhys was published in September 2016, in which I suggested that it is amazing that Jean Rhys wrote so well in the light of her considerable difficulties.

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The Quest for Christa T by Christa Wolf

I failed. I got to page 93 out of 185 and I stopped reading. I have tried. For several weeks I have picked up this book and read the first chapter. Then put it down and later tried again. Now at the half-way point, ten chapters out of 20 have been read, but I can’t go on. I’ve weighed up the time it was taking to read this novel against what I felt I got out of it. I’ve decided to move on to other books.

The title of this post should really read: The Quest for Christa T by Christa Wolf

The Quest for Christa T

Christa T is not an especially remarkable woman. Like the narrator, she grew up in eastern Germany during the war, and like many in that area, fled before the advancing Red Army. Living in East Germany (the DDR), as normality is resumed, the girls meet again in university and form a loose friendship. The narrator reconstructs Christa T’s life from the documents she left when she died young of Leukaemia.

Part of the novel seems to be about the impossibility of recreating anyone’s life, fictional or real. She opens the novel with doubts about memories.

The quest for her: in the thought of her. And of the attempt to be oneself. She speaks of this in her diaries, which we have, on the loose manuscript pages that have been found, and between the lines of those letters of hers that are known to me. I must forget my memory of Christa T.- that is what these documents have taught me. Memory puts a deceptive color on things.

But must we give her up for lost? (1)

It’s this kind of elliptical yet lyrical prose that made reading it so hard. And the novel continues by exploring witness evidence, documents, and conjecturing what happened in the gaps. There is very little narrative, more a series of events alongside the narrator’s suggestions of what might have been happening in Christa T’s mind and explanations of her responses.

What are we to make of the author’s name being shared with the main character? Why has Christa Wolf embarked on this search, the quest for her namesake, at all? I guess I’ll never know because I am moving on to other reading.

Christa Wolf

Christa Wolf lived 1929 to 2011, mostly former East Germany. The area in which she was born is now in Poland, and when her family fled the advancing Red Army at the end of the war they ended up inside the Russian Zone.

She worked as a literary critic and journal editor and although critical of the DDR leadership during the Cold War period she remained a socialist. She won many awards for her writing. From reading her obituaries and about The Quest for Christa T it seems that Christa Wolf was interested in individuals who make their own way rather than following the crowd. This had obvious implications for the East German state. Her book was not banned when it appeared in 1968, but only a limited number of copies were printed.

A Novel in translation

Well, I am sorry for my failure to get beyond half way. The Quest for Christa T was my October choice for the Women in Translation project. I chose it because it appeared in several lists of recommended reads for #WIT and others had responded positively. For example, on Heavenali’s blog and Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings. I plan to read another, but more recent, text by a German writer: Go, Went, Gone by Jenny Erpenbeck (2017) in November.

I would like to hear from people who got further with Christa T than I did, and who got more out of it.

The Quest for Christa T by Christa Wolf, first published in English in 1970 by Hutchinson & Co. The translation from the German is by Christopher Middleton. I read a library copy from Exeter Library stacks. Virago also published a version.

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