The Blue Sapphire by DE Stevenson
published 1963
[excerpt]
‘Miss Julia,’ [the
housekeeper] said. ‘Are you sure you’d not like me to give yon petticoat a wee
press? It’ll not take me any time at all when I’ve done his pyjamas.’
‘Maggie, I’ve told you nylons
shouldn’t be pressed.’
‘They needn’t be pressed,’
declared Maggie, making the all-important distinction, ‘but it brings them up
so nice.’
‘It spoils them,’ said Julia
with a sigh.
The matter of Julia’s nylon
underwear had already been discussed, ad nauseam.
Well! After the detailed look at late-50s underwear in the
post on Anatomy
of A Murder this week, here is a splendid glimpse of life in the early
60s – still servants, but new-style underwear: picture is a fashion ad from a couple
of years later. (And see also the recent entry on Margot Bennett’s Someone
From the Past – more discussion of the underwear du jour.)
The works of DE Stevenson are fascinating: beloved by so
many people, and the ultimate comfort read. And breaking every rule in the
creative writing book. (I have covered two others of her works on the blog)
Her style, and her structures are quite strange, and hard
to organize in your head. I keep reading them, whenever one is particularly recommended
to me, and every time I shake my head in awe at the woman’s randomness.
Recently we have been looking at hats
on the blog, several posts,
and one of my lovely readers mentioned this book, which has its heroine going
to work in a hatshop. Excellent. Off I went in pursuit…
Julia is a nice young lady: she is engaged to be married, and
lives a life of some comfort. But, her widowed father has recently remarried
and Julia feels surplus to the situation. Her new stepmother Retta (wandered in
from a Patricia
Wentworth book have we? – she being the queen of strange names) thinks it
would be an awfully good idea if Julia found herself lodgings and a job.
So she does, and oh my dear it was so heart-breaking, so
difficult but oh, here we are, lodging with an ex-theatrical in a beautiful
house. And landlady Miss Martineau knows a hatshop owner in need of an assistant.
Yes, life is very hard for poor Julia.
Miss M must have been a good actress - she does a very funny skit to show Julia what
she needs to do to excel in her new job:
Suddenly she was a different
person, languid and affected. ‘The very latest from Paris,’ she drawled,
bending her head from one side to the other and patting her curls with the tips
of her fingers. ‘So chic, so becoming . . . the line so original, so intriguing!
Let us see if it becomes Madame,’ she added, removing it from her own head and
settling it carefully upon Julia’s. ‘Beautiful!’ she cried in sudden ecstasy.
‘What could be better? It is Madame’s colour; it enhances the loveliness of
Madame’s eyes; it shows off her delicious complexion! Let me pull it this way a
trifle—no, that way! Exquisite!’ cried Miss Martineau, clasping her hands and
rolling her eyes. ‘Such faultless taste! Such perfect line! Quite ravishing! It
is Madame’s chapeau . . . and only twenty guineas. Too expensive?’ asked Miss
Martineau in surprise. ‘Oh no! Oh dear me, no! Twenty guineas isn’t out of the
way for such a beautiful chapeau. Oh, I do want Madame to have it! Well—for
Madame—let us say eighteen-ten.’
Julia learns her lesson well, and is a big success in the hatshop, although the other assistants don’t like her and have some sabotage plans. Her fiancé, who we can tell is not right for her, doesn’t really approve of her working, but then he takes himself off on an extended holiday – with mentions of new golfing friends of both sexes - so who is he to complain?
Julia meanwhile has allowed herself to be picked up on a parkbench
Julia herself was greeting the
sunshine in a simple white frock and large straw hat with a sapphire-blue
ribbon round the crown (it so happened that the ribbon matched her eyes;
perhaps she was aware of this fortunate circumstance)
- by another young man, Stephen, who decides to ignore the
engagement and just chase after her. He seems to me to behave quite badly in
this, and also encourages her to invest in his business – in another kind of
book he would undoubtedly be a conman/murderer.
So this is all going nicely, and Madame Claire’s hatshop is
full of interesting detail
Some of the hats came from
wholesale manufacturers and some from well-known houses in Paris, but many of
them were made by Madame with her own clever fingers. Quite often these
consisted of a few artificial flowers and a piece of gauze or straw. The materials
cost a few shillings and the ‘creations’ were sold for pounds. It seemed wrong,
somehow, but Julia comforted herself by the reflection that the clients were
paying for Madame’s skilful work. Like a picture, thought Julia. How much did a
picture cost in actual money? The canvas and paint were practically worthless.
It was the skill of the painter which made the picture valuable.
But then suddenly Julia ups sticks and takes herself off to
Scotland to look after a long-lost relative who is very ill. Did Stevenson
forget where she was in the story? Did she get her manuscripts mixed up?
Occasionally she says that maybe Julia will go back to the hatshop and to her
room in London, but not very convincingly. There is one more mention, which I
did enjoy:
[Maggie] was dressed in a black
cloth coat with a brown fur collar and a black straw hat (which would have
given Madame Claire a migraine).
This is the housekeeper in her uncle’s house: and what a twinkly-eyed
wonderful servant she is, someone we feel we know from every single similar
book. It is she who does the ironing, and she insists poor exhausted Julia has
breakfast in bed every day, and so ‘Julia found her dressing-jacket and went
back to bed’. Dressing-jacket! I guess we
can assume this is the same as a bedjacket?
There are problems with the house, finances and the health
of the lost uncle, and Julia gives a hand to sort everything out. Another man
turns up, Neil, a medical student, who helps out with all this. Do you know, it
really wasn’t clear to me which of these men Julia was going to end up with: there
was a genuine question in my mind.
I wondered if the book was part of a series, or contained series
characters: if not, there were an awful lot of loose ends. Perhaps a fan could
enlighten me? There is a character called Peter, who turns out to be Peta, a
woman, who never actually appears, which seems strange. And it’s not really
clear where geographically everyone is going to end up, or what Julia’s father
is going to say about it all. I was befuddled by some of the outcomes.
I do wonder if DES should have been writing crime fiction –
between the conman-style activities above, and this later scene:
The spasm left her as limp as
a rag. She lay there helpless. [He] was rolling up her sleeve. ‘What are—you
doing?’ she whispered. ‘I’m going to give you an injection—just a tiny
prick—you’ll scarcely feel it.’ Her arm was dabbed with something cold and then
there was the prick of the needle. ‘You’ll be all right in a few minutes,’ he told
her.
We’d know what to make of that in other circs.
DE Stevenson was at the far end of her career now – she wrote 40 novels in 40-odd years, and lived from 1892-1973 – and good for her, keeping on going and plainly bringing great delight to her readers. And see how much I found to say about this light book.
Hatshop – from many years earlier, but this kind of shop wasn’t being photographed much in the 1960s – Wikimedia commons.
White dress from clover vintage
Hat from NYPL
Shades of The Family from One End Street and the chapter about the art silk petticoat!
ReplyDeleteIt immediately came to my mind! (Lucy)
DeleteOh well done both of you - I'd forgotten that, though it made a huge impression on me as a child...
DeleteOh, this does seem awfully strange, Moira! The London hat shop setting is really appealing, but then, off to Scotland? That setting, too, can be really appealing, but it does seem odd to have them juxtaposed. Still, all that lovely talk about hats! I can see how you found things to like in this one, even if it's got some strangeness to it.
ReplyDeleteYes, I can be very forgiving when a book gives both pleasure and picture opportunities.
DeleteA picaresque plot with a non-picaresque protagonist? I vaguely remember this book. I think DES took every opportunity--or perhaps created opportunities--to move the setting to Scotland. Like Mrs Oliphant, she obviously loved the place. Mrs Tim being especially peripatetic, she obviously had to go there. (I've always wondered how Hester never managed to realize Tony's feelings, did I miss something? Of course she was devoted to Tim, but she seemed fairly perceptive.)
ReplyDeleteYes, she did yearn for Scotland didn't she? It reminded me also of O Douglas/Anna Buchan, whose ventures into non-Scottish settings were much weaker.
DeleteI haven't read the Mrs Tim books... is that going to have to be next?
The Mrs Tim books are great fun.
Deletesue
Perhaps the Mrs Tim books should be my next venture into DES...
DeleteFunny you should think of DES writing crime fiction, I had just been thinking the same thing about Barbara Pym! Some of her characters made me feel as if they'd make great murder victims. Pym crime fiction would obviously be like no other--but putting murder into such "everyday" settings, with her oh-so-human characters, could result in some good psychological suspense. Wonder what kind of detective DES (or Pym) would create? I opt for a middle-aged-to-elderly spinster, not as mild-mannered as Miss Marple but snarkier than Miss Silver.
ReplyDeleteOh, what a lovely idea! I think a Barbara Pym sleuth would be rather like Jessie Morrow, a younger woman, a little dowdy, overlooked and under estimated - but, like Miss Marple, she’s a noticing kind of person, very shrewd, and quick to sum people up. I can’t imagine anyone other than a Miss Marple figure is a DE Stevenson detective (she would fit into Scottish village life so well). But I love the notion of a maid being an amateur detective. She would know everyone, and see everything, and be able to discover all sorts of hidden secrets because no-one would pay her any attention, since she’s just a servant.
DeleteA servant as sleuth would be a great revenge on the GA attitude that "servants don't count" in investigations. But would a servant have the time to do a proper investigation? I do agree about them being unobserved observers, and being privy to gossip and "private" goings-on. The old listening-at-the-keyhole trope!
DeleteAnd yes, Jessie Morrow has the makings of a very good sleuth!
DeleteAll great ideas, and especially Jessie Morrow, sneaking around.
DeleteThere's the coincidence of the names with Sheila Pim, whom I have loved discovering - on similar lines.
I also think Angela Thirkell (I'm just reading one of her books, post coming soon) would have been good - I've said this before, she could keep tabs on a large number of people and know who was where at any time. And would be good at clues in casual conversation I think.
I’d nominate Archdeacon Hoccleve, of “Some Tame Gazelle”, as Barbara Pym’s first murder victim - Belinda Bede could investigate and in doing so, discover a new interest in life after the years of pointless pining for him …
DeleteSovay
That would be a nice outcome for her I think.
DeleteI was thinking the same thing! Another of my potential murder victims is Miss Doggett in "Crampton Hodnet." She's much worse there than in "Jane and Prudence"--I wouldn't want to deprive Jessie of her job, but it would be an incentive to begin a sleuthing career. Of course I'm looking at all this from a different perspective than she would have, judging from her pursuit of Fabian!
DeleteThe mere idea of a Thirkell detective novel makes me smile. I wonder which character her sleuth would resemble--Rose? Lydia? Miss Bunting (shades of Miss Silver)?
DeleteMiss Doggett is awful, and would make an excellent victim.
DeleteIn Thirkell, I would love to see Lydia sleuthing, but in the book I am reading (Before Lunch) there is a character called Miss Starter who is just a nuisance for the first two-thirds of the book, but has one splendid scene near the end, giving advice to someone - more of that would make for very good sleuthing.
The early 1960s must have been the dying days of hat shops like the one in your picture - anarchic hatlessness was taking over. I have a book from around 1960 advising young girls just leaving school on how to dress and hats are barely mentioned.
ReplyDeleteDressing jackets - I’m sure these used to be for wearing at the dressing table whilst doing hair and make-up - so not quite the same as the bed jacket but could evidently double up.
Sovay
Hat shops were such a specialized place, they do intrigue me. i may have quoted before something I once read: 'The two most empty places in the world are a lion's cage after the lion has left, and any hatshop window.'
DeleteI may have to now introduce a new line to the Clothes in Books range of merch: the dressing jacket.
Thanks for another interesting post including hats. As with a few months ago I have also had a recent post on hats after reading a book in which the sleuth is a member of the Red Hat Society. I think hats, at least in crime fiction, appear to be making a bit of a comeback. As well, I included a photo of a hat that Sharon owns and loves.
ReplyDeleteThanks Bill - and heading right over there!
DeleteThe origin of Julia's thought that "the canvas and paint were practically worthless. It was the skill of the painter which made the picture valuable."
ReplyDelete“The labour of two days, Is that for which you ask two hundred guineas?”
“No; I ask It for the knowledge of a lifetime.”
Whistler suing Ruskin for libel.
- Roger
This comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteNaaturally (given my blog) I also quote Cedric and Fanny in Nancy Mitford's Love in a Cold Climate. She is horrified at the cost of a Schiaparelli jacket:
Delete‘Don’t tell me!’ I said. ‘ Twenty-five pounds for this?... Simply silly. Why, I could have made it myself.’
‘But could you? And if you had would I have come into the room and said Schiaparelli?’
‘There’s only a yard of stuff in it, worth a pound, if that,’ I went on, horrified by the waste of money.
‘And how many yards of canvas in a Fragonard? And how much do planks of wood cost, or the skin of a darling goat before some clever person turns them into commodes and morocco? Art is more than yards, just as one is more than flesh and bones.'
I'll add that H.R.F.Keating wrote a series of short stories with a cleaning lady sleuth and they were collected in Mrs. Craggs: Crimes Cleaned Up. Chrissie
ReplyDeleteGood catch! When you think about it, it's surprising the trope hasn't been used more. What opportuities a good servant has...
DeleteI'm a little confused about the difference, if any, between a cleaning lady and a charwoman. (Do males ever do that kind of work, I've wondered.) Also, what do you call the women who "do for" single men in so many British mysteries, fixing meals and doing laundry and other household duties besides cleaning, but not "living in" like a housekeeper--independent contractors, so to speak.
DeleteI think they are the same thing. 'The lady who does' [ie for someone] is a common phrase, and has slightly different implications, because cooking and laundry. Someone who 'comes in.'
DeleteThere were also women who came in ‘to do the rough’, which I think meant the really dirty, mucky jobs. There was obviously some kind of social hierarchy among cleaners!
DeleteOh yes, 'doing the rough'! I think there were cleaning ladies who did not want to be called a char as they felt t was downmarket. I like the ones who say they can 'oblige', I think it shows a proper feel for their importance, and a refusal to think of themselves as servants.
Delete"Lady" versus "woman"--I can see that it would be an important distinction! I'd forgotten about the "rough" work that would be lower on the social scale, although just as necessary.
DeleteWhen I am doing 'the rough' in my own house (neither efficiently nor frequently) I often think how nice it would be to have an obliging hard-working lady to come in and do it for me, while sharing local gossip. I would happily maker her cups of tea.
DeleteJessie Morrow would be an excellent sleuth but she'd have to give up her companion job (not that she'd have a choice if Miss Doggett was the victim) - employers seem to keep a close eye on their companions and live-in servants, and a sleuth needs more freedom of movement.
DeletePondering who might murder Archdeacon Hoccleve, it occurred to me that it's lucky for him that "Some Tame Gazelle" seems to be taking place in the 1930s (when it was first drafted) rather than around 1950 when it was published and meat rationing was still in force. His extra-long sermon ruins everyone's Sunday joint, and if that had been their ration for the week I think they'd have been queuing up to knock him on the head!
Sovay
Oops, wrong thread ...
DeleteNo worries! His all-round annoyingness is intriguing given that Pym was so fond of him...
DeleteRe: Marty's query about whether men ever fill the 'cleaning lady' role - some time in the 1950s (I think) Archie Goodwin's regular account of who's on Nero Wolfe's payroll starts to include "Charley the cleaning man". Presumably Rex Stout either realised, or had it pointed out to him, that if Fritz is spending as much time on the kitchen side of things as he needs to, there's no way he can also be doing all the housework of a four-storey brownstone. I don't know if Charley ever actually appears - I have not encountered him, but I haven't read all the many Wolfe short stories. He seems to be a daily - doesn't live in like the rest of Wolfe's staff.
DeleteSovay
This is a really good detail to notice Sovay! I haven't enough expertise to comment, we'll have to see if anyone else has a view...
DeleteLove the idea of a cleaning lady sleuth. Cleaners see everything and are usually considered just part of the furniture, barely human.
ReplyDeleteThe thought of ironing nylon makes me wince. I had several disasters and ruined irons as I couldn't get exactly the right temperature - hot enough to smooth sway creases but not so hot as to reduce the gsrment to a melting burnt mess. The upkeep of clothes fascinates me, so much hidden work.
Yes indeed, re: cleaning ladies.
DeleteI recently learned from Barbara Pym that ironing art silk stockings made them shinier. Still pondering that one.
Aylwin Forbes would make a good murder victim...
ReplyDeleteHear hear!
DeleteSovay
I can see it. Dulcie and Viola could give each other alibis.
Delete