Showing posts with label Rose Macaulay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rose Macaulay. Show all posts

Friday, 5 July 2013

Keeping Up Appearances by Rose Macaulay

This is a very difficult book to write about, and it's particularly difficult to explain why it is such a good and enjoyable book without giving away its secrets, secrets which are part of why it is so enjoyable.  Rose Macaulay's novel has to do with identity, its construction and presentation, and its sudden dissolution.  Half-sisters Daisy and Daphne Simpson are modern young women in 1920s London; Daisy is the illegitimate daughter of an upper-class man, now dead, and the expansive, lower-middle-class Lily Arthur, now married to a painter and decorator in East Sheen.  She feels every bit of the awkwardness of her position, aware that the upper-class family who employ her are being deceived, equally aware that her much-loved mother knows Daisy is slightly ashamed of her.  Daisy supplements her income by writing novels and journalism under the name of Marjorie Wynne.  Marjorie dutifully turns out articles on various "Woman Questions": can women have genius?  can they have children and a career?  Daisy rather despises this debate, and the way her editor constantly forces her to consider the 'human question'; she dreams of writing about "inhuman things, about books, about religion, about places, about the world at large, about things of which intelligent people had heard".   Macaulay is very funny at the expense of her own profession and gets well stuck in to the debates about highbrow and lowbrow writing that were prevalent when she published this book in 1928.

So the novel plays with ideas and conflicts about class, gender, and literary status, which makes it sound very serious, but the tone is Rose Macaulay's usual one of arch humour, and consequently it is very funny.  The Folyot family - upper-class progressive intellectuals - are very cleverly drawn, just stopping short of caricature, and Daisy's mother Lily is a complete joy, and a terribly attractive character, with her fondness for a little nip of brandy and her sympathetic understanding of her daughter's position.  The frightful (to Daisy, at least) scene where the Folyots and Daisy's East Sheen family are brought into uncomfortable proximity is painfully hilarious.  The narrative asides are also very witty: I particularly enjoyed Macaulay's observation that Lily achieves "comfort in her ugly house  [...] in the only way which it is ever achieved, by extravagance".  So true, and so elegantly expressed.

This novel is out of print, but there are secondhand copies around, as there was a Methuen paperback reprint in the 1980s.  Simon has reviewed this at Stuck in a Book and there is also a review here at Reading 1900-1950 -  do note the spoiler warning at the top!  However, if you do inadvertently read a spoiler (as I did, because the Methuen paperback includes one on the very first page) it shouldn't affect your enjoyment of this book.

Friday, 8 March 2013

Potterism by Rose Macaulay

I'm indebted to Kate Macdonald's podcast on this book for reminding me I had it and that I really ought to read it.  Potterism the concept derives its name from Mr Potter, a newspaper magnate, whose vast press empire promotes vague, opinionated, palatable reading material for a conservative and rather dim public who do not want their preconceptions challenged.  This has, unsurprisingly, made him very rich indeed and sees him elevated to the peerage.  His wife writes Potterist fiction under the name of Leila Yorke, turning out novel after novel of a similarly bland and palatable character: 

They were pleasant to many, readable by more, and quite unmarred by any spark of cleverness, flash of wit, or morbid taint of philosophy. Gently and unsurprisingly she wrote of life and love as she believed these two things to be, and found a home in the hearts of many fellow-believers. She bored no one who read her, because she could be relied on to give them what they hoped to find—and of how few of us, alas, can this be said!

The Potters are arch-materialists: Leila's refrain is "whatever life brings we can use", and this tendency has passed itself on to their children.  The Potter twins, Jane and Johnny, are just as much materialists as their parents, but have ranged themselves, after an Oxford education, with the Anti-Potter-League, a loose association of young people who are committed to defeating the deadening influence of the Potter press.  This association centres on Arthur Gideon, a charismatic idealist who is in love with Jane, although he rather despises her.  Jane is a fairly monstrous character, frankly out for what she can get, and what plot there is in the novel focuses around her relationship with Arthur and the consequences of her impetuous marriage to a beautiful young man who her sister loves.

The narrative of the book switches between a rather arch third-person narrator and three of the central characters: Leila Yorke, Arthur Gideon and the more marginal Katherine Varick, a rigorously objective scientist and Anti-Potterite.  These narratives are very well achieved: Arthur Gideon manages to keep up his earnest idealism without being dull, while Leila Yorke's section shows what an awful writer she is but still manages to be funny.  Here is the opening of her section:

Love and truth are the only things that count. I have often thought that they are like two rafts on the stormy sea of life, which otherwise would swamp and drown us struggling human beings. If we follow these two stars patiently, they will guide us at last into port. Love—the love of our kind—the undying love of a mother for her children—the love, so
gloriously exhibited lately, of a soldier for his country—the eternal love between a man and a woman, which counts the world well lost—these are the clues through the wilderness. And Truth, the Truth which cries in the market-place with a loud voice and will not be hid, the Truth which sacrifices comfort, joy, even life itself, for the sake of a clear vision, the Truth which is far stranger than fiction—this is Love's very twin.
Macaulay keeps this up beautifully throughout Leila's narration and it is all highly amusing, particularly Leila's descriptions of her Spiritualist enthusiasms.  But while this is a sharp and funny book, it is also a sad and tragic one; it doesn't have quite the sudden gear change that marks The Towers of Trebizond, however, probably because its view of life in general and journalism in particular is so satirical.  The novel also gives a fascinating  portrait of London society just after the First World War; the consequences of the war sometimes emerge sharply, but can be quickly effaced.  Arthur Gideon has lost a foot during the conflict, but this is dealt with in two paragraphs and barely mentioned again; Jane recognises how she has profited from the war, gaining advantage through the work she undertakes that will help her career afterwards.  The book is also a fascinating insight into contemporary attitudes to cultural values and what would later be called the battle of the brows, being highly critical of populist, commercial literature and journalism, while recognising its ascendancy.

Potterism seems to be out of print, although there are some print-on-demand editions around; you can also get an electronic copy from Project Gutenberg.