This week, Helen at a gaullimaufry is celebrating Sylvia Townsend Warner, a 20th century British novelist, poet, and short story writer.
Since Townsend Warner is one of my favorite authors, I’m joining Helen and others in trying to convince everyone to read more of this little-known author’s work — in my case, I’m pushing her short stories (although her novel, The Corner that Held Them, is really really good). In the past, I’ve posted reviews of Townsend Warner’s short stories here, here, and here. For this week’s celebration, I located a fourth collection, A Stranger with a Bag (1966/2011), and found myself back in familiar Townsend Warner territory: unsettling glimpses into the lives of people who, even half a century later, I feel I could probably meet on the next corner. In other words, no one particularly special — just everyday folks, facing everyday events.
But each with a slight twist. For instance, the middle-aged brother and sister in a small town passionately in love with each other. Or the 10-year-old boy who asks a traveling salesman to kill his father. Or the young wife who leaves her oppressive husband and mother stranded on a moor when she drives off in their car but runs out of gas just as she calms down enough to go back for them.
These stories all date from the early 1960s. Most are set in England, and only two feature child characters. In the rest, adults, usually middle-aged, struggle through their daily lives, negotiating relationships with family members, lovers, acquaintances — and themselves. Townsend Warner doesn’t write cheerful stories (although there are funny moments), and few of her characters end up happy.* Yet the insights into why people do what they do are so powerful, that I find myself, story after story, drawn in.
Photo courtesy Donal at ComeHereToMe.com. Find out what this photo is about at https://comeheretome.com/2013/07/03/gogartys-swans-on-the-liffey/
“Swans on an Autumn River”, for instance, starts out on a sour note:
As he quitted the Aer Lingus plane from Liverpool and set foot for the first time in his life on Irish soil, he was already a disappointed man.
28 words in, and I dislike the protagonist. Who could be disappointed on first setting foot in Ireland? Townsend Warner explains: Norman Repton, “aged sixty-nine, hearty as ever though overweight”, is disappointed that the Aer Lingus stewardess has become a block of ice in response to his uninvited caress along her leg. Then, with the ending of this same first paragraph, Townsend Warner arouses my sympathy for this despicable man:
At his age, such disappointments are serious. You are only young once. At the time it seems endless, and is gone in a flash; and then for a very long time you are old.
Ah, recognition. I know old age is no excuse for bad behavior (in fact, absolutely nothing excuses bad behavior), but I at least understand this man. He wants to be young again.
Later, Norman almost redeems himself when, from his hotel window, he spots several swans on the river and rushes down to see the beauties up close, grabbing bread for them from the hotel restaurant on his way out. Then seagulls horn in, crowding out the lovely swans, and Norman, in his attempt to shoo the marauders away, manages to knock himself unconscious on the pavement. The story ends as some locals run to the hotel to call for an ambulance.
Nope, no happy ending for Norman.
Twitter, @ReadingSylvia (19 October 2018)
The most beautiful story in this group, “A Love Match”, shows us what a good marriage should look like. In their small English village, Justin and Celia Tizard live publicly as proper brother and sister, but they’re actually involved in an incestuous relationship that began during WWI and will last for decades.
I can hear the questions: How can a story about a taboo relationship be “beautiful”? How can any writer make sympathetic characters out of such people?
Well, I can only say, we’re talking about Townsend Warner, who herself lived for decades with her lesbian lover. If anyone knows the beauty of a loving, devoted, loyal — yet forbidden — relationship, she does, and she’s a great writer who is willing to tackle topics that others generally avoid.
If you’re unfamiliar with Townsend Warner’s writing, do try to find something by her and read it. You can start with “A Love Match”, which is available here. Go ahead. I dare you.
*See Lory’s discussion, Do I Have to Read Depressing Books, at The Emerald City Book Review for an exploration of this business of unhappy endings.
Lizzie Ross 
A splendid critique, Lizzie. I really wanted to take part in STW Reading Week but sadly won’t be able to do so. I so much hope this becomes an annual event. 😊
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Thank you, Paula. I’m always happy to read (and reread) STW’s writing, so if this becomes an annual event, it can only be a good thing.
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All I knew of STW was that she wrote Kingdoms of Elfin which was frequently mentioned though I never saw a copy. So you’ve definitely made me itch to find out more (and now that I see she was also a musicologist I feel a complete ignoramus).
As for unhappy endings, I think short stories are quite suited to them: in fact in most collections I’ve read there’s often an overwhelming sense of melancholy, of hopes dashed and ambitions quenched. A perfect antidote to the happy-ever-after stories of the larger than life characters who inhabit many novels.
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I’m pretty sure you’d enjoy Kingdoms of Elfin, Chris. Imagine Macchiavelli crossed with the Brothers Grimm. Oh, fairies can be so careless.
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OK, you’ve sold me.
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I love this description! 😂
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What a lovely review, Lizzie! I have read ‘A Love Match’, which I agree is wonderful and very clever, but none of the others you mention. How right you are about how STW can take dislikeable characters and make them sympathetic, and all so unsentimentally. She can make the ridiculous tragic.
As for making this an annual event, I don’t know! I’m quite lazy. But it might be nice to do.
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Thank you, Helen. All the stories in this collection are excellent, but ‘A Love Match’ is definitely the stand-out tale.
And I can understand your hesitancy in taking on a yearly project. Another blogger and I are prepping for our second year of Witch Week, which begins at the end of October, and the work began in April! Fortunately, this event requires only intermittent attention until late September. I hope that encourages you!
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Well it does encourage me, actually, thank you! And I have to say, reading everyone else’s posts has made me want to read a lot more of STW anyway, so I am tempted.
I LOVE Witch Week although I have not been terribly regular in joining in, and I’m glad you’re running it again. I’ll try to be more organised and participate this year!
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Oh, I hope you can participate, Helen. Witch Week (and Diana Wynne Jones) deserve lots of attention.
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Great review Lizzie, one that made me really interested in STW writing. I might start with Kingdoms of Elfin, though 🙂
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Thank you, Ola. I’m pretty sure you’ll like Kingdoms of Elfin. STW’s elvish world is so unusual, not at all like what we see in Tolkien.
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I am increasingly starting to get a feel for STW this week and your review is a part of that, Lizzie. This collection sounds superb.
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Thank you, Sandra. As you can tell from my other STW posts, I’ve been a long-time fan, and I’m always happy to recruit others. Happy reading!
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How nice to see a review of this collection! I loved it – STW is such a marvel at short stories. (Having said that, I was a little disappointed in the collection I read for STW Reading Week – The Innocent and the Guilty – but the others I’ve read are extraordinary.)
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Thanks, Simon. Yes, STW is a master short story-ist. I’ll have to reread The Innocent/Guilty again now, because even though I’ve reviewed it, I don’t remember enough to be able to argue with you about its value.
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