Today I am celebrating another of the Underappreciated Lady Authors gathered together by Jane at Beyond Eden Rock. Emily Hilda Young, was born on this day in 1880 and, like many of those old ‘green’ VMC authors, has had the misfortune to be forgotten not once, but twice. In her heyday, during the 1920s and 30s, she was enormously popular, but fell into obscurity after the war, when the public’s reading tastes changed. There was a brief renaissance when Virago published some of her novels in the 1980s, but it didn’t endure. More recently the tide seems to be turning, and once again there is an upsurge of interest in her work, so perhaps someone will republish the books – I certainly hope so.
Between 1910 and 1947 Young wrote 11 novels, which are primarily domestic, and are very much of their time and place, mostly portraying life in Radstowe, a fictionalised version of Bristol, where she lived for many years. The plots are slight, the story-lines slow, and her writing very quiet, with subtle depictions of the delicate nuances of class and social structure, and the tension caused by the need for public proprietry balanced against private desires. Her observations of relationships are equally acute as she exposes the feelings between man and woman, parent and child, sister and sister. In some ways she’s quite subversive because she’s not afraid to question the moral values of her day.
I have to admit, that whilst running around doing bits and pieces for my mother I forgot about this anniversary, but I wanted to post something, because EH Young is one of my favourite authors, and Jane has gone to all the trouble of organising a ‘Birthday Book’, so fans of forgotten female authors ought to support her. So here are a few rather garbled thoughts on William, which I enjoyed immensely.
It focuses on the relationships within the Nesbitt family – shipping magnate William, his wife Kate, and their five grown-up children, Dora, Mabel, Lydia, Janet and Walter. On the face of it the Nesbitts are a happy, conventional family. Then Lydia leaves her husband for another man, and the scandal affects everyone in different ways (the novel was written in 1925 when such behaviour would have made Lydia a social outcast and brought censure on her family). And as the novel unfolds become cracks appear in other relationships.
There is Dora, miserably married to Herbert, who is a bully, but a wealthy bully, and she remains with him for the sake of the children and her luxurious lifestyle. And there is Mabel, something of an outsider in the family, who marries mean-minded, penny-pinching John and makes a virtue out of wearing ugly shoes. dowdy clothes, and running everywhere because she cannot afford a taxi. Then there is lonely, unhappy Janet, craving independence, but still living at home and in love with Lydia’s husband Oliver. And there is Lydia herself, who remains something of a cipher, seen through the eyes of others, her motives a mystery but, seemingly, no happier for leaving her husband than she was with him.
And, of course, there are William and Kate, and the rift whiich opens between them when Lydia runs away. William is the chief protagonist, and we see things mainly from his point of view. Obviously a shrewd businessman, he’s a self-made man who has worked his way) up in the world, and is satisfied with his achievements (but never smug). Quiet and unassuming, he is, at heart, a family man who loves his wife and children, but is not blind to their faults, or his own – he’s very self-aware, always slightly detached and amused, but never judgemental. And although he wants his children to be happy he realises they must make their own decisions, and that those decisions may not always please him. And although he doesn’t want to interfere he is tempted, on occasions, to nudge things along in what he hopes is the right direction…
His wife Kate is no match for him intellectually, and is inclined to seek refuge in ill health when she thinks she is badly used by family and friends. Social position and doing the right thing are very important to her, and she has her own aspirations for the children, urging them to fall in with her wishes, and she doesn’t agree with William when he says: “I’ve told you, Kate, we can’t have them as we want them. We’re lucky to have them as they are.” She is devastated by Lydia;s behaviour, and is hurt and angry when he supports his favourite daughter. It would be easy to dislike Kate, but I felt sorry for her – I think there’s a bit of empty nest syndrome going on here, and she’s very much a woman of her time and class, with too much time on her hands, and not enough to do.
And while she’s not as self-aware as William, deep down she knows that the children are their own people, with their own dreams and desires, and she does not really understand them. Young tells us: “It had been different when they were all young and at school. She had felt then that they were her own, but perhaps she had been mistaken, perhaps she had not known their secret selves, and she remembered, for the first time for years, how she had once found Lydia crying in the nursery and had not been able to find out what her trouble was. It seemed to her that what she had missed then might be evading her still. She had given birth to five bodies and she would always be a stranger to their souls. This was a terrible thought and it would have been more terrible still if she had known that it was William’s too.”
It’s very much a book about marriage and parenting, and how family life is not always happy, and how different people cope with the problems in different ways. The characters are beautifully drawn, and the relationships between them delicately and sensitively portrayed. And there are some wonderful moments exposing the snobbery and pretensions of middle-class life, and some very funny scenes (many of them involving poor Mabel and her three priggish sons) – the account of a family trip on William’s newest steamboat is absolutely hilarious.