It was only towards the end that I felt the book had been too obviously plotted in comparing conventional southern English suburbia with the social experimentation of swinging London in the sixties. Now I have to admit that I was there from 1963 to 1968 and seem to have missed it all. I never smoked a cigarette, never mind pot. Although sharing a tiny attic in Chiswick (too small to be even called a flat) with Bob (and his occasional girlfriends in a bed a few feet away) would horrify today's young. Of course we drank, but it was only beer in those days. And the music. And the parties.
Back in suburbia, forty year old Phyllis is bored with her husband Roger and finds excitement in an affair with Nicky, the son of a friend so a much younger man. "The tenderness and sweetness in their relations disconcerted him; he had been sure he had a barren soul, incapable of such feelings. It suited him, too, that she came to him (in his room in London ..... of course) only once a week, like a lover in a book".
Far more interesting is Phyllis's sixteen year old daughter Colette, a large girl, wide, unattractive and wears glasses. But hugely intelligent, destined for great things. They should make a film about her as she bunks off school and seeing less of her mother has instilled a kind of reckless spirit. It is her introduction to that social revolution that I found most interesting. The writing, of course, is first class, this being my sixth book by this author.
It's 1985 somewhere in Ireland and times are hard. Bill Furlong has a wife Eileen and five daughters and works hard to keep his coal delivery business afloat. Christmas is coming on fast and last orders have to be made. Crucially to the story, a delivery to the Convent reminds Bill of how lucky his mother was, carrying an illegitimate child and kept on in her position as housekeeper by the kind Mrs Wilson. The girls there are not so lucky. Chapter 4 is ten perfect pages.
The next chapter is equally brilliant. At the Mass just before Christmas Bill's mind is filled with the lost girls and their hardship at the Convent, and how his five girls are so lucky compared to them. When it comes to Communion, he "stayed contrarily where he was, his back against the wall". His wife is not sympathetic.
What is he to do? Near the end there is a warning which, at first, I did not understand. But then came one act of kindness which might ruin his family. Now I remember Eileen had also warned him and what would her reaction be to this act of selfishness. This is what so upset me at the end. Not what would happen to Bill but to his family. Thank goodness we never get to know. I actually swore at Bill at the end, how could he do this? His background is no excuse for what I came to believe was a despicable act.
Someone says that Bill is as saintly as Atticus Finch. Absolutely the opposite. Another reviewer says "If you had the chance to do the right thing, no matter what the cost, would you do it". For me, this completely misses the point. What if the"right thing" ruins your family? I know what I would do, kick Bill until he realises family comes first.
It was OK. Nothing special. Missing the humour of the first two in the series. Are there any phone boxes that still work? In Staffordshire?
No comments:
Post a Comment