So far, in this time of enforced isolation, the Dunnetts, the Mantels, the Sansoms and other historical tomes have stayed on the bookshelves.
My need was forsomething brisk to stand against the media’soutbreak of “war words” and writing thatremindedme of the quiet cynicism with whichmy parents and grandparents – who had had real experience ofsuchthings - regarded such“patriotic” stances.
In consequence, I have beenreading thenovels of Lissa Evans: OLD BAGGAGE, CROOKED HEART andTHEIR FINEST HOUR AND A HALF*,set duringthe first half of the twentieth century, and blessed with a dark, quirky and benign humour.
Evans has a way of creatingcharacters that are slightly at odds with society, people trying to survive in a world that has moved on and not always to their advantage. Her plots are not about dealing with heroic events on a world stage, but about coping withsnobbery, prejudice, poverty, petty cruelty, boredom and tragedy during the hard times.
However,bit by bit, despite sometimes doing a wrong or stupid thing, things work out almost right for her main characters - and almost right, Evans seems to suggest to me,might be the best we can hope.
OLD BAGGAGE is set in London in1928. Women have now been granted the right to vote,so whatlies ahead for the Suffragettes, now older and stouter, who were shaped by theirexperiences of direct action?
Miss Mattie Simpkins will be gathering with her fellow radicals, forEmmeline Pankhurst’s funeral. As she walks, pre-occupied, onHampstead Heath, she is robbed by a young man. Still adept in lobbing objects at full strength, the furious Mattie throws a bottle after him, striking an ordinary young woman, Ida, in the face.
Partly in retribution, autocratic Mattie sets up The Amazons, a club for young, disadvantaged women, providing opportunities for strong, healthy, physical outdoor activities such as “Javelin throwing. Archery. Use of the slingshot.” along with lectures on feminism.
Her intention is to encourage female confidence and independence, but despite her years of campaigning, Mattie - from a more privileged background - does not really understand the lives of ordinary girls and women:
Now she could see Ida toiling up the hill from ParliamentFields, head down . . “Well done,” she called as Ida came within earshot. “Couldn’t you persuade anyone to come with you?”
“I tried my friend Vesta, but she says today’s her only lie-in,” said Ida, trying to keep the resentment out of her voice, seeing as exactly the same thing applied to herself.
Meanwhile, Mattie’s best friend, Florrie Lea - nicknamed “The Flea”- offers more practical solutions and better employment to Ida. Unlike Mattie, with her wealthy background, The Flea knows what it is to be poor.
While Mattie’s militant energieshelp the group to thrive, its statusis soon threatened by a more glamorous and miltaristicorganisation:thewell-funded “Empire Youth League” ledby an old Suffragette acquaintance who has now become aferventsupporter of Mussolini.
Mattie also threatens the group herself, unwisely favouring a new recruit - the flighty, sly Inez - above her more ordinary Amazons because Inezis the daughter of a fellow Suffragette and a young man that Mattie once admired.
In her idealised pursuit, Mattie breaks her promise to Ida, the original protege and thoughtlessly offends “The Flea”, through whose quietly determined visits we glimpse life in the poorest districts of thirties London.
OLD BAGGAGE, set within the rising shadows of the Thirties, is astudy of the gaps between idealism, intentions, practicality and human frailty.
CROOKED HEART
Although thistitlewould comesecond in a historicaltime sequence, in terms of publishing, this is the earlier novel of the pair.
The year is1939, with Hitler actively threatening, London’s school-children are to be evacuated for a second time. Meanwhile, out in St Alban’s, Hertfordshire, Lissa Evans introduces us to Veera.
"Vee",thirty-six, liveswith a domineering, ailing mother and Donald her selfish nineteen-year-oldson.
Constantly in debt, Vee struggles over rent and bills, surviving bywhatever means possible. Unexpectedly offered an unwantedevacuee with a limp, she seesthe boy as an extraway of extracting money and sympathy and takes him in.Besides, with Donald working as a watchman, the boy can sleep in her son’s empty bed..
Ten year old Noel, however, is not a simpleidiot. He has beentrained by his godmother Miss Mattie Simpkins to be observant, self-reliant and suspicious of authority.
Noel surprises Vee, not only with the ammonite he lugs around in his suitcase, but by his responses. Slowly, ill-treated Vee and Noelbecome a team, even if this involvessome petty crime on the way.
Gradually, after her harsh introduction, the reader startsto understand Vee’sbehaviour and situation, and to admire young Noel’s single-minded stoicism and determination as well as recognise some of the outcomes of wartime officialdom.
OLD BAGGAGE andCROOKED HEART will be followed soon by VICTORY, the third in Lissa Evans trilogy.
THEIR FINEST (HOUR AND A HALF)
When this earlier novel wasbought and made into a film, the original title was adapted in response to other films out inproduction at that time, particularly a film about Churchill, calledTHEIR FINEST HOUR.
Both book and film werereleased around the anniversary of the Dunkirk evacuation, and about the same time asthe spectacular film DUNKIRKhit the screens. In many ways, this change almostechoesthe storyline of thisnovel, which is about the making of a “Dunkirk” wartime propaganda film,the lives of some of those involved, and the wider issue of what happens to facts when they meet the needs of fiction.
The bookincludes passages of typed script, and moves between the writing team’s cramped studio, location filming off the Norfolk coast and the film studio. Although there are many characters in thebook, the story mainly centres onthreemain roles.
The first is Catrin Cole, ayoung Welsh woman who has run to London with her lover, a war-artist, Initially a copy-writer, she becomes a script writer,creatingthe“slop”: the pieces offilm script that appeal to women.
Searching real-life news for inspiring national stories, she discoversapair of twin sisters who took a boat across to Dunkirk, but finds, face to face, thattheir adventure was less heroic but in some ways as bold as the newspaper reports. Returning to work, shewitnessesthe “film twins”lifeand adventure alteredin almost every respect to suit industry and national needsfor a “good story.”
Another is Edith Beadmore, amiddle-aged dressmaker, bombed out of herhome and her job at Tussaud’s Museum, now living and working uncomfortably with family, but fortunately close to the film location. Unfortunately, ordinary Edith and her story has notleapt from page to screen.
Thirdly, we see the events through the eyes of Ambrose Hilliard, a vain, selfish,elderly actor, who cannotaccept heis no longer leading-role material and is forced into thedemeaning role of the twin’s drunken uncle. Once again, the needs of the film re-shaped Ambrose, who wasplayed by the much-loved actor Bill Nighy.
Thisnew Ambrose had a far larger role, more interaction with Catrin, and wasmore kindly drawn, script-wise, than Lissa Evan’s original novel - allof which rather fitsthe theme of the book, the power of the mediaand the need for effective images.
These books have been just the right reading for me at this time. What is harder to convey in this History Girls post, is Lissa Evan’s clever sideways look at the society and events of these past times, and, implicitly, at our own too.
For example, at one point, Lissa Evans describes Ambrose, forced to take ownership of his agent's dog, struggling down a wartime street in London.
“It dawned on Ambrose that he’d been mistaken, not only for a dog-lover but for a bombed-out vagrant toting his remaining possessions in search of a nice cup of tea and a chit for a public bath.
He jerked the lead, and Cerberus trotted after him, past the rest centre, where a photographer was loitering – waiting, presumably, for a subject of the requisite crass symbolism. The yellow press seemed permanently plastered with pictures of dusty but defiant grandmothers, and bandaged urchins signing “V” for victory. England, apparently, could “take it”, though whether she could also dish it out was a moot point. . .
It was all an utter disaster, and yet if one were to read certain of the newspapers, one might believe that an invasion could be forestalled by a few pallid bank clerks armed with cobblestones, and that a nation could be fed on allotment carrots and the odd can of beans lobbed over by Roosevelt.”
Penny Dolan