BOOK OF THE WEEK

Taranaki Daily News, 15 September 1934, Page 13 (Supplement)

BOOK OF THE WEEK

RURAL ENGLAND TO-DAY

(By

“U.S.”)

“This Little World,” by Francis Brett Young. William Heinemann Ltd., London. A. J. Fyfe Ltd.. New Plymouth.

Like Hardy with Wessex Mr. Young has made his own the counties of England and Wales that more or less impinge on what is often called the “Black country” of the midland industrial areas. In “This Little World” he has chosen a far corner of Worcestershire and the village of Chaddesboume D’Abitot as the location of a very refreshing narrative. As the title indicates, the book is a study of village life. It is not so much the career of any individual but the his» tory of a little community accommodating itself to postwar conditions and lacking, by reason of war casualties, just the steadying influence of the l men who should have been the householders and farmers of the district.

Into this village comes the new squire, Miles Ombersley, soldier and gentleman, who takes his patrimony seriously. He believes that the'duties of a landowner are quite as important as his privileges, but finds himself caught between the upper millstone of high taxation and the nether of falling prices for farm produce and the consequential difficulty in obtaining rentals due. His difficulties colour hi? life and those of his son Jack and daughter Catherine. His wife, Helen Ombersley, is the kind of character Mr. Young seems to enjoy portraying. An aristocrat to her fingertips, she is always a gracious influence, and because of her own surety of birth and standing able to understand and even to appreciate the good points of a “self-made man who was very pleased with his maker.”

Catherine Ombersley had been a V.A.D. during the war. She had turned to work as a relief when her two elder brothers had been killed in Flanders. She had fallen in love with a flightlieutenant, who was killed a few weeks later, and she comes to Chaddesboume thinking that life has little more to offer. The family at “The Hall” is interesting enough, but there are others in the village whom Mr. Young makes real and attractive—or otherwise. Miss Loach, the vixenish old maid daughter of a former vicar, who dated the decadence of England from the passing of the Education Act, who wrote innumerable letters to, the squire giving her views upon most things that could crop up in a village and beseeching or commanding his interference with conditions she considered improper if not immoral, is a caricature, but a kindly one. Mr. Young makes the reader see the pathos as well as the pettiness of such a life as that of “old Miss Loach.”

Her medical attendant, Dr. Selby, is one of the stronger characters in the village. Even the squire, stiff-necked conservative that he is, has to admit liking “that young doctor man.” .They had both seen active service, and the doctor at all events had no illusions about the consequences of that holocaust on the men and the resources of old England. George Cookson, principal tenant of the Ombersley estate, a capable farmer Who was going to seed with too much popularity, his over-serious but honest wife, his pretty daughter, Elsie, and his. quiet son Jim make up another household that in success or failure makes a heavy mark in village affairs. But the most disturbing element is that of John Hackett, a''former manufacturer of munitions, but now retired with a new house not far from the Hall which fills Squire Ombersley with loathing every time he sees the new. “monstrosity.” In the way Fate has—and Mr. Young’s skill is shown by the manner in which he makes it appear inevitable, —conflict of will and outlook between Ombersley. and Hackett happens over and over again. The self-made man has a real affection for the village where his forefathers had lived for generations. It was the discovery that the Hacketts had been important people in the Chaddesboume district that induced him to build the offending “Manor House.” John Hackett wants to make Chaddesboume a “going concern.” He would instal electricity, start a motor service with the big industrial centres, put in petrol pumps and boost the village as a tourist resort. To Miles Ombersley all this is almost sacrilege, and for a time conservatism wins..

The book has many less important characters, each one being etched, with the meticulous care that characterises all Mr. Young’s work. Morgan Jones, the school teacher whose love for Elsie , Cookson gives him so much pain, is one of them. Then there is Ted Hadley, ex-sergeant-bajor and now host of the village inn. Ted’s influence is on the side of progress, yet he has a real appreciation of all that the squiredom of England stands for, and he is able to be the independent publican who knows he can be of some influence in the village and yet give to “The Hall” the respect he knows is its due without seeming sycophantic or hyprocritical. For a contrast there is the household of Aaron Bunt, poacher, thief and general ne’er-do-well. His daughter Nellie, mother of two illegitimate children, is shown as one to be pitied rather than blamed, and her home life shows how the picturesque appearance of English cottage life can hide the most appalling lack of the conveniences or even the decencies of ordinary housing accommodation.

All these lives intertwine, and between them and others made up the little world of Chaddesboume. The reader closes the book feeling that it was, after all, rather a charming little world. It had most of the troubles that infect larger communities. Love and hatred, tragedy and comedy are all to be found even in a village where it is “nearly always afternoon.” People with delicacy of sentiment and principle rub shoulders with those who think principles are rubbish;' little misunderstandings breed forces that have wide influence for good or evil; and ever is there the conflict between a new generation and one that had formed its opinions before war ploughed under all the premises upon which those opinions rested. Nevertheless, it is a not unhappy world. Comforts balance misery, straight dealing does not always lose, true love reaps its reward, and the kindliness of folk is just as real as their more unlovely traits. The book keeps interest, and is closed with a feeling of refreshment and a lighter heart for reading it. Can there be a better recommendation than that?

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