The Captive Reader

After reading Wild Strawberries by Angela Thirkell at the beginning of January, I immediately rushed out to the library to grab as many of her books as I could find.  And then, because sometimes I’m not as clever as I would like to think, I decided it would be a good idea to read them all right away.  Here is what I know about any good thing: too much of it is bad.  Reading five Angela Thirkell novels in less than two weeks, however delightful they might be, is not a good idea.  I overdosed to the point where I could not think or dream of anything else.  May you all learn from my mistake.  But sufficient time has passed now that I can revisit the charming citizens of Barsetshire and perhaps even gather my thoughts enough to describe just how much I enjoyed Cheerfulness Breaks In (1940), Miss Bunting (1945), Peace Breaks Out (1946), Private Enterprise (1947), and Love Among the Ruins (1948).

I suspected this back in January after having only read one of her novels but it has now been confirmed: I love Thirkell.  I can completely understand Denis Mackail’s complaints that she bullied him – she does seem the type – but that is what wise older sisters are required to do by the laws of nature.  It is nothing less than our duty.  She may not be brilliant and she does have a tendency to ramble (chapters go on and on and on) but she is consistent and dependable, delivering one charming novel after the other, filled with genuinely amusing and interesting characters and plots.  And, most importantly, happy endings with the young ladies and young men of Barsetshire suitably married off while their elders look on with approval and/or relief.

This really might be one of those series best read in order but with the library’s incomplete collection that was not an option for me.  Thirkell is marvelously considerate in alluding to the histories and personalities of each character so that the uninitiated instantly feels at home among the people of Barsetshire.  Just look how much she reveals about Lydia Keith, both her character and her relationships, in a few short lines:

To all such young men as were prepared to accept her as an equal Lydiaextended a crushing handshake and the privilege of listening to her views on all subjects.  As for any more tender form of feeling no one had ever dared to approach the subject with her and Lydia’s general idea of matrimony appeared to be that it was an amiable eccentricity suitable for parents in general who were of course born too long ago to have any sense, her sister Kate, and really silly people like Rose Birkett. (Cheerfulness Breaks In)

These five novels, though primarily concerned with the domestic, offer an interesting glimpse of the changes wrought by war.  Commentary is offered on rationing, blackouts, refugees, and the gallantry of soon-to-be-occupied nations.  Husbands and sons enlist and disappear only to be lost, killed, captured, or maimed.  The novels written immediately after the war are even more fascinating for their tone: while most of the characters had remained grudgingly positive during the war, the outbreak of peace is a shocking disappointment for all and spirits are significantly subdued, complaints far more common now that there is no need to be heroic.  The magnificent snobs of Barsetshire are not impressed with the new world forming, with its promised equality and uninspiring homogenization.  Mr. Birkett, the headmaster of the local boy’s school, is particularly riled by this promised future:

Soon their will be practically no eccentrics left in England, and the mediocre will have it all their own communal way.  I hope I’ll be dead then.  And I’ll blow up the school before I die. (Peace Breaks Out)    

What I love most about Thirkells novels are her large, distracted families.  I want desperately to have a family life as carelessly happy as the Leslies or the Grahams or the Deans.  Careless may not be the correct word but none of the characters are desperately serious or, if they are, it is for comic effect.  Most everyone seems if not content then at least able to restrain themselves from meddling in the affairs of their children.  In one of the books, I can’t remember which now, a young man remarks that he would like his mother more if she did not try so hard to understand him.  I was much taken with this wisdom; unfortunately my mother was not when I tried to pass it on.  And Thirkell is admirable if for no other reason than both parents and children are mocked with equal dedication:

All through his rather ungracious life he had despised his parents, though they might with equal rights have despised him for wasting his time and their hard-earned money at Oxfordand taking a poor third.  But parents are incorrigible forgivers and also moral cowards, so no one had ever told Richard how badly he had behaved and he had continued to despise them.  (Love Among the Ruins)

And grandparents too, for that matter:

Mrs. Dean had always been a little vague, and there were now so many grandchildren that she had given up trying to remember their names when more than three of them were about and usually called them indiscriminately darling.  If, she had said to her husband, they would all stay the same age she could remember, but they would keep on getting older and looking different.  Her husband who was very fond of her and would not for the world have had her improved said if she would make up her mind which age she wanted them all to be, he would see what could be done.  Gin, he understood, stunted the growth… (Private Enterprise)

These may be classified as cozy novels of little literary value but the characters, their attitudes, values, and behaviours are more familiar to me than the supposedly realistic characters that people so many modern, morose novels.  Life isn’t necessarily dramatic.  Sometimes even the biggest changes, both good and bad, happen quietly and without fuss but still manage to provoke much discussion among the neighbours.