High Wages by Dorothy Whipple

I watched (and enjoyed) Downton Abbey on TV but always felt it was anachronistic. It only takes reading a novel about English village life that was actually written in the 1920’s to get a sense of how wrongly contemporary Downton Abbey really is. High Wages, Dorothy Whipple’s story of Jane Carter’s development from shopgirl to business owner is chock full of the kinds of things that are totally missing from Downton Abbey: quirky slang, unfamiliar food, a rigid immovable class structure, and pervasive exploitation and sexual harassment of working women.*

But of course High Wages stands alone as a really good book, all comparisons aside. Whipple’s prose is direct and occasionally witty. Jane Carter is a smart girl, talented and determined to succeed. And the local dress shop is the perfect vantage point from which to view all the happenings throughout the village. It’s also a metaphor for the changes occurring all over Great Britain and the U.S.: the transition from drapery shops that sold only fabric to dress shops that specialized in the new ready-made clothing; the increased opportunities for working class folks and women especially, the social taboos that fell as hemlines rose. Whipple knew she was chronicling a time of great change but she does it with such subtlety you don’t even notice.

This was another long out-of-print book republished recently by Persephone Books of London. You can buy them directly from Persephone’s website or get them through larger library systems. My goal is to read at least five Persephone books this year and I’m already on my second one.

*I do understand that the DA producers don’t want to scare off their U.S. audience with Yorkshire accents or sheep’s head for luncheon.

(Book 8, 2013)

I Did Not Fall into the Cardiff Rift

Sorry, folks. The last three books I've read have all been for projects I'm doing for Isthmus, Madison's alternative weekly newspaper. I can't blog about them until those other pieces are published. While it's fun to have other book-related work, it does get in the way of my blogging. Also there has been some Netflix watching. Serious timesuck, that.

This week's bedtime reading is of a different flavor all together, another Persephone title by Dorothy Whipple called High Wages. I really enjoyed The Priory when I read it a few years ago. Fans of Downton Abbey might enjoy Whipple's books; they are set during the early 20th century and her characters' issues could be those of Lady Edith or someone from downstairs. More on this later.

Minnie's Room by Mollie Panter-Downes

The short stories in this volume continue the author’s piercing commentary on the social life and customs of the English middle class, which she began in her earlier volume Good Evening Mrs. Craven (and which I wrote about back in 2007). While that earlier volume covers the war years (late 1930’s to mid 1940’s), Minnie’s Room picks up in postwar London where good food was scarce, coal for heat was scarcer, and the servants had all run off. Left alone to fend for themselves in large cold houses, the postwar years were bleak indeed for middle class matrons and their long suffering husbands. How could this possibly be entertaining to read about, you might ask? But it is! As I said in my post about her earlier book, Panter-Downes writes tiny little gems that say everything in a few words. The self-absorption of these characters who cannot conceive that life has changed forever, and the complete sense of entitlement they exhibit in the face of all evidence to the contrary make for entertaining reading from the vantage point of the 21st century.

This book was published by Persephone Books, a UK publisher of neglected books by twentieth century (mostly women) authors. I’ve written about Persephone before on this blog; click on the Persephone tag in the tag cloud at right to see all my posts. I love their books but they are not so easy to get from the public library. I’ve bought several of their titles directly from their website (here is a link to their page about Minnie’s Room) and have also found them at Memorial Library at the University of Wisconsin, which is where I found this one (and a few others) on a midwinter trip deep into the stacks. Ah the smell of old library books! Library lovers will know what I mean; all others may sneeze at the mere mention of it.

(Book 4, 2013)

The Making of a Marchioness by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Is there a lifelong (female) reader who doesn’t love The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett? It’s one of my favorites and I’ve read it several times. Hodgson Burnett wrote for adults as well as children, and Persephone Books has published two of her titles. I just finished The Making of a Marchioness, originally published in 1901, and republished by Persephone in 2001.

Persephone’s version of this book is actually two novels in one: the first book, The Making of a Marchioness, followed by its sequel, The Methods of Lady Walderhurst. The first volume is a Cinderella-type story of Emily Fox-Seton, impoverished gentlewoman, who ekes out a living running errands for her wealthy acquaintances. While Hodgson Burnett occasionally provides glimpses of the dark side of Emily’s tenuous existence, mostly she dwells on her unflagging good spirits and continued optimism in the face of impending spinsterhood. And like any good Cinderella story, Emily’s prince eventually emerges in the form of the Marquis of Walderhurst, a dull self-centered man who chooses to marry Emily because her practical nature appeals to him. Thus Emily lives happily ever after as the Marchioness of Walderhurst.

Or does she? The Methods of Lady Walderhurst could hardly be a more different book than its predecessor. Lord Walderhurst must travel to India to oversee his business interests. On her own at home, Emily is beset by the evil Alec Osborn, Walderhurst’s dissolute heir presumptive, who views Emily’s existence (and that of her potential offspring) as a direct threat to him. We move rapidly from a story so sweet that it hurts your teeth, to one so dark that it keeps you up at night. Is Osborn going to murder Emily? How involved in any potential plot is Osborn’s wife Hester, whom Emily befriends? And what exactly is going on with the Indian servant Ameerah?

Like most Persephone books, issues pertaining to feminism and class are just under the surface of these stories. Why must Emily be so accommodating all the time? Because it is her nature, or her only guarantee of survival? How does Hester’s Anglo-Indian heritage make her an ambiguous figure? Is Walderhurst's remoteness a feature of his personality or his culture? Persephone titles like this one make me think a lot. Maybe that's why they take me so long to read.

(Book 53, 2010)

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day by Winifred Watson

This was recently a movie starring Frances McDormand and Amy Adams. I finished reading the book more than a week ago but I put off writing about it hoping to see the movie first. I kept thinking it was going to come any day but then I discovered that someone in my family had hijacked the Netflix queue and High School Musical 3 arrived instead.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day was originally published in 1938 and reissued in 2000 by Persephone, the British publisher of forgotten works by women authors. I buy a few of these books each year and am slowly establishing a small collection. A friend went to London last spring and brought me back Miss Pettigrew as a souvenir. She bought the original version from the Persephone shop on Lamb’s Conduit St., and it is bound in the iconic gray Persephone cover, but Persephone has also released Miss Pettigrew as part of its series “Persephone Classics” which sport arty covers and are available at mainstream U.S. bookstores. Only nine Persephone titles are available this way in the U.S.-- the rest must be purchased directly from the Persephone shops in London, or over the Web. Miss Pettigrew is also the only Persephone title available as an audiobook; it's read by Frances McDormand and is probably a lot of fun to listen to.

Persephone books seem to come in two styles, heavy and light. The titles I read last year (especially The Priory by Dorothy Whipple) were distinctly heavy. Miss Pettigrew could not be more different; it is so light it practically floats. The plot can be described in one sentence: Miss Pettigrew, a governess in search of a new job, ends up accidentally in the employ of an actress, Miss Delysia LaFosse, and spends her first day using her good common sense bailing Miss LaFosse out of one disastrous situation after another. Much of the book consists of frothy dialogue and descriptions of Miss LaFosse’s extensive wardrobe.

Yet beneath the story’s bubbly surface lurk hints of the gravity of Miss Pettigrew’s situation. Older, ineffective with children, dismissed from employment with increasing frequency, Miss Pettigrew can see her options diminishing rapidly. Choices for unmarried middle-class women in the early part of the 20th century were limited at best. This theme (the lack of choices for women of all ages and social classes) is one that runs through every Persephone book I’ve read. It certainly is present in this book too, though you might miss it if you aren’t thinking too hard.

Does the movie address this issue? Unfortunately I have to wait until someone has watched High School Musical 3 a couple more times before I can find out.

(Book 16, 2009)

The Priory by Dorothy Whipple

It’s difficult to read a Persephone book and not view it through a 21st century lens. As I read The Priory I kept thinking things like “The reason Penelope has to make this choice is because she has no education, so no other options are available to her” and “if Christine had her own money she wouldn’t have to leave her baby with her sister.” Of course these reasons are still the reasons if you know what I mean – I am not ascribing motivations inaccurately. But I wonder if I were reading this book in the late 1930’s (when it was originally published) whether I would be as sensitive to them, or would feel as bothered by them.

This is a story of a family of mostly women: two sisters, their aunt and their stepmother; also various women servants. The few male characters are ineffectual and mostly just cause problems for the women. Major Marwood, the father, is a retired army man. His estate is mortgaged, he owes thousands of pounds to his creditors, his house is crumbling around him, yet he stages exorbitant cricket tournaments each summer that put him further and further into debt. The women in his family see his foolish ways but are powerless to stop him. His daughters, Penelope and Christine, are forced to marry men to whom they are ill-suited, and in the case of Christine, whom she barely knows, to escape from the poverty and to have some opportunity for a life. His second wife Anthea sequesters herself in the nursery with her young twins and refuses to acknowledge the state of their finances. She willfully ignores all evidence of it, and forges ahead with an expensive nursemaid and redecorating projects that compound the family’s financial woes. The tragedy of the story is that all three women (and several other women characters also) are intelligent, resourceful, creative people who are given no education and no opportunities to be of any use to society. Anthea’s anger is most clearly drawn through her passive aggressive money battles with the major, but the daughters too (especially Penelope) seethe with suppressed rage.

As with every other Persephone book I’ve read, this book is filled with tiny telling moments that add up to a perfectly rendered world. I do have one small complaint: it’s very long, around 500 pages. I got about 9/10ths of the way through and ran out of gas. (Astute observers of my Shelfari sidebar will know that it’s been stuck there for weeks.) I finally finished it last night.

(Book 17, 2008)

News About Persephone Books and a Movie

The Guardian (UK) recently had a good article about Nicola Beauman, who is the founder and publisher of Persephone books. I know other bloggers have already linked to this article but I wanted to include it here too. There's some press brewing about an upcoming film version of a Persephone book, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, by Winifred Watson, which will star Frances McDormand, one of my favorite actors.

I was also pleasantly surprised to see an article by Linda Brazill, in the Capital Times, which is my local newspaper, about Persephone books. The word is really spreading about these treasures. Note that Persephone will soon release three titles that will be available in traditional booksellers around the U.S.; the Guardian article about Beauman will give you the details.

There's a link to the Persphone web site on my sidebar.

Mariana by Monica Dickens

I started off my reading year with another Persephone book. This was a really good one and I enjoyed it a lot, though I’m wondering if it’s destined to be forgotten soon. As I said in my end-of-2007 post, I really want to get away from the “more of the same” feeling that most of 2007’s reading choices evoked in me. While this was a fun, satisfying read, it was a very predictable choice for me.

This is a coming of age story that begins when the protagonist, Maria, is about 11 and continues through the early days of her marriage. Set in the 1920’s and ‘30s, the story doesn’t sound like much, but the beauty is in the details. Dickens captures what it’s like to be a girl at age 11, 13, 17, etc. so perfectly, without sentimentality or over reliance on emotion, and she does so in a way that is perfectly timeless.

Maria is an average girl, and her life is mundane and predictable. Yet this book is filled with moments when an adult (female) reader thinks “Yes, that’s how it is! That happened to me, too!” Dickens manages to make the situations fresh, even while they are completely familiar. Yes, most girls are more assertive now, and have more choices. But what it feels like to be a girl obviously hasn’t changed much. On the Persephone Web site is a quote from Dickens about her work: “My aim is to entertain rather than instruct. I want readers to recognize life in my books.” That readers can still recognize it sixty years on is a tribute to her skills as an observer and a writer.

(Book 1, 2008)

The Victorian Chaise-Longue by Marghanita Laski

When I was a child I used to wonder what it would be like to wake up in someone else’s body. Sometimes I would pretend that I had. I would go through a day pretending that everything I encountered was unfamiliar, and that I had to fool everyone around me who thought I was someone else. I think a lot of children play this game. Marghanita Laski uses this childhood conceit to tell the story of Melanie, a woman who goes to sleep on a chaise longue and wakes up in another woman’s body in another time and place, yet still fully aware of her own original identity. Unlike the childhood game, however, it all ends badly in this story; Milly (the woman Melanie becomes) is gravely ill and has just undergone a harrowing experience (hinted at but never explained; readers will figure it out). Bad luck for Melanie.

What struck me about this story was the utter childishness of Melanie before she becomes Milly. A silly, spoiled, upper class beauty, she is totally dependent upon her husband and her servants, clinging, whining, begging for reassurance from the “adults” who surround her. I found her really irritating (and this is what I was referring to in my last post, when I said I wasn’t enjoying the book). It is only when she turns into Milly that she finally emerges as an adult character, though ironically, her first assertive act is also her last.

I’m not sure whether Laski was trying to make some kind of feminist point here or not. Was she lashing out at a generation of spoiled upper class women? (Melanie’s character type will certainly be familiar to readers of mid-century British fiction.) Take a childhood game, and force a childlike adult to really play it in order to make her finally grow up. Is Melanie (as Milly) being punished for being childlike, or for finally overcoming her dependence?

Or is Laski using Melanie to make the point that this dependent personality type was forced on women of her generation and social class, and that Melanie escapes in the only way possible, even if it proves to be disastrous? Maybe I am just over analyzing. I certainly can’t conclude one thing over the other.

This was a Persephone book, and while I didn’t love it, it certainly made me think. It’s very short and could be read in an evening. P.D. James provides a surprisingly lackluster introductory essay.

(Book 50, 2007)

Skimming Rather Than Reading

I don't usually skim books. I either read them or abandon them. But in the past few days I've skimmed two books; interestingly, the books were about the same thing, British women in World War II. One was fiction, a Persephone book, and the other was non-fiction. Maybe my lack of success with these books is a sign that I am done with this era.

A House in the Country by Jocelyn Playfair is a novel written in 1944 and re-released by Persephone. Playfair's writing style is one that I don't enjoy; she provide lots of detail about trivialities, and the serious stuff is dealt with in brief passing references. Thus we read (or skim!) many pages where the heroine extols the joys of eating in the kitchen (the servants have all been called up). Then we get about five sentences on the death of her husband. This style, which I've encountered before in some British fiction, always makes me feel like I'm looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Is it a stiff-upper-lip kind of thing? Talk about the weather instead of the atrocities? I skimmed the book, rather than abandoning it, thinking that I might get used to the style and learn to like it, but it was futile. That was Sunday's reading.

On Monday I started Debs at War. This is non-fiction, written by Anne de Courcy, who wrote the excellent biography of Diana Mosley that I read earlier this year. It chronicles the extreme changes that occurred in upper class women's lives as they transitioned from sheltered debutantes into nurses, pilots, farm workers, and factory workers at the outbreak of WWII. De Courcy makes the point that few generations have gone through the kinds of changes that this group saw: beginning life in luxury, raised by servants, not knowing how to cook, wash dishes or even how to clean their own clothes, and then moving to a life without servants, working for a living, managing money, meeting people outside their social class, etc. This is a scholarly work, and would make good background reading for someone writing a novel about the time. Rather than focusing on one woman throughout the book, de Courcy includes the memories of about 75 women, and has arranged her chapters by subject rather than time period. Thus there is no real story here, just a collection of memories about different topics. It kept me occupied for about an hour, reading a bit from each chapter, then I had had enough.

I noticed that both of these books used the pronoun "one" where a more modern (or maybe an American?) writer or speaker would use "you." I couldn't stop noticing it, and feeling annoyed by it. It made the novel feel very dated, and the women in Debs at War sound stuffy. No contemporary U.S. writer uses this pronoun any more, and I rarely encounter it in contemporary British fiction, unless it's to make a character sound a certain way.

Good Evening Mrs. Craven: The Wartime Stories of Mollie Panter-Downes

This was published by Persephone Books, but unlike some Persephone titles, which are reprints of books published long ago, this is a new collection of previously uncollected short stories. Mollie Panter-Downes wrote for the New Yorker for many years and is better known in US literary circles than she is in Britain (though I was not familiar with her work). All these stories were originally published in the New Yorker magazine, and most have never been reprinted since their original publication during WWII.

The stories are tiny gems. Each is no more than a few pages long, and all of them are funny, sharp, and entertaining. The stories progress chronologically through the war years, providing trenchant observations about domestic life, relationships and the increasing hardships faced by those on the home front. Panter-Downes was first and foremost a journalist; in addition to these stories she wrote (among other things) a series of Letters from London, reporting on the war, which were also published in the New Yorker and which I believe were collected into a volume published in the early 1970's, edited by William Shawn. The stories in Good Evening Mrs. Craven are just as legitimate a form of reportage as any non-fiction article and indeed they illuminate delicate issues that are harder to report upon in a non-fiction format, such as the subtle class conflicts that occur when a middle class matron must provide housing for working class evacuees. Panter-Downes is brilliant at satire, and can say so much in so few words. These stories would make wonderful examples for new writers about how to use language and description with economy and elegance.

Persephone has also collected Panter-Downes' peacetime stories which deal with the social changes that occurred in the postwar years. That collection is entitled Minnie's Room.

Persephone customers receive a free subscription to the Persephone Quarterly. I just received my first issue of this and it made wonderful bedtime reading. I'm longing to attend the upcoming Tea at Great Maytham Hall, near Rolvenden, Cranbrook, Kent to celebrate Persephone's release of The Shuttle, by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Great Maytham Hall is the setting for The Shuttle, but it also is the home of the walled garden that features in The Secret Garden, one of Burnett's most famous books (and one of my favorites). This event will take place on June 20, alas, without me.

(Book 17, 2007)

Saplings by Noel Streatfeild

This is the book that I ordered from Persephone Books. Streatfeild is the author of over 80 books, most of which are long out of print. The exception is her series known in the US as "The Shoe Books" which includes Dancing Shoes, Ballet Shoes, Theatre Shoes, Skating Shoes – any others? I can't remember, but I read them all as a child. These books have been continuously in print since the 1930's. No small accomplishment.

Saplings is written for adults, but, not surprisingly, has four children as protagonists. At first I was anxious about this. I don't usually enjoy books that have children as main characters because writing from a child's point of view is very tricky, and few authors really get it right. Yet I needn't have feared. Streatfeild's skill in writing about children for children enables her to create child characters who are complex and believable to adult readers as well.

The book takes place between 1939 and 1944 or ‘45. The four Wiltshire children are fractured by war, leaving London to live at first with grandparents in the country, then sent to various boarding schools, and eventually to other relatives when their father is killed in an air raid and their London house is destroyed. Their mother, Lena, is a type no longer seen in modern literature. A vacuous beauty, she strives to be a pleasure to her children, a darling companion, a giver of delights. She leaves all the dirty work of parenting to the nannies and governesses. Her failures, as the nannies and governesses are called up, and she is left to actually raise her own children, are shocking, and the children suffer accordingly. Lena sinks into alcoholism and promiscuity, and the children fall apart in all different ways. The adult relatives and friends are fairly ineffective, though the grandfather comes through in the end. This is not a happy story. But it is great reading for fans of mid-20th century British fiction.

You can only get this book through Persephone Books, unless perhaps you find an ancient used copy, or you get it from a university library. Friends who would like to borrow my copy are welcome to it. But ordering from Persephone is easy and fast and less expensive than you might think.

(Book 10, 2007)