regshoe

Trying to distract myself from an attack of unreasonable sentimental nostalgia for last year by writing about the last few books I've read, all from the early twentieth century this time.

The Crowded Street by Winifred Holtby (1925) . I read South Riding, Holtby's best-known work, a few years ago and thought it was very good indeed, so this was a good one to happen across at the library. It tells the story of Muriel Hammond, a young lady growing up in Yorkshire in the early years of the twentieth century who fails in the one great aim of a woman in her position—getting married—and the surroundings and consequences as this happens. The book does a good job of presenting the gradual development and slow unfolding of a story that isn't necessarily a single coherent narrative, and it felt very true to life in the amount of incidental detail it contains. The middle-to-late section of the book, in which Muriel finally starts to find something positive in life, was a bit of a disappointment because just when things are getting really interesting the narrative pulls back and refuses to describe anything in detail, letting Muriel's development from that point onwards be implied and inferred from the final chapter rather than seen directly. However, I think it would be a mistake to assume that the decision to focus on the earlier events—the restriction, the social shame, the gradual all-consuming suffocation, etc., all portrayed in incisive detail—wasn't deliberate. The story of Muriel's adventures in London would make a great book, but it's not this book. And the ending! I can't count how many books I've read and wished in vain they might have the ending that this book actually has. I felt very validated.

Garthowen by Allen Raine (1900). Subtitled 'The Story of a Welsh Homestead', which about sums it up: various family relationships, moral dilemmas, and social and economic pressures play out against the backdrop of a farm on the coast of Ceredigion. The old farmer, Ebben Owens, a Methodist, feels simultaneously proud of and abandoned by his son Will's ambition to become an Anglican clergyman; meanwhile his other son Gethin returns to the farm from years spent at sea after he ran away; the free-spirited shepherdess/milkmaid Morva is torn between a promise of marriage to Will and her feelings for Gethin; and Ann, the daughter of the house, marries her sweetheart and settles down at the farm without getting into any drama at all. It's an enjoyable read: the sense of place and descriptions of scenery are lovely, and I appreciated the historical detail for a context I'm not very familiar with (I've read quite a few Victorian English books and a handful of later Welsh ones, but I think this is the first book I've read set in Victorian Wales), although there were a few things I would have liked the narrative to elaborate on a bit more—particularly Will and Gwenda's relationship, with the implication that she, a secure member of the upper classes, isn't ashamed by Will's background and is going to try and moderate his social-climbing tendencies.

Greenery Street by Denis Mackail (1925). The semi-autobiographical story of the first year of marriage for a young upper-middle-class London couple, told through the personification of the ideal street and house that form its setting. (Semi-autobiographical enough that the house can be identified—here it is). Ian and Felicity Foster navigate the perils of housekeeping and City work, arranging and decorating their new home, financial difficulties, servant trouble, neighbour trouble, problems in the extended family, etc., all while working out the new shape and development of their own relationship. The tone throughout is a sort of wryly affectionate gentle parody, and Mackail has a brilliant turn of phrase and eye for the sort of bizarrely spot-on descriptions that make this style of writing work really well—the introduction mentions that P. G. Wodehouse admired his style, and I can see why. Overall, very enjoyable, for the pitch-perfect comedy, for more interesting historical details (including the charmingly quaint idea that the house pictured is unmanageably small for a family of more than three...!) and for the warm sympathy and affection the author so obviously has for his characters. I'll definitely try and find more of Mackail's books in future.