What Did It Mean? by Angela Thirkell
published 1954
This one was suggested when we were looking
at books with question-marks in the title last year. When I found
out it was a later book in Angela Thirkell’s oeuvre, dealing largely
with preparations for celebrating the coronation of QEII in 1953, and that Lydia Merton – a great
favourite Thirkell character – featured, I was keen to read it.
First of all the title: It’s a bit ragged, but I think the
point is that someone has got hold of an ancient prophecy from a local rural
gent, and some of the characters are trying to work out what it all means?
Something like that - it’s very like Harry Potter. But it doesn’t impinge much
on the plot to be honest.
That is, if you can call it a plot. All the local nobs meet up
for social events, formal and informal, and discuss the affairs of the
neighbourhood. This alternates with meetings of the Coronation committee,
planning a day of entertainments after the big event: ie everyone watches the
service on their new-fangled TVs, and the next day they have their own celebrations.
All kinds of old friends from previous books turn up, particularly
from Thirkell’s Northbridge
Rectory, including Miss Pemberton and Mr Downing. There are some
unexpected developments there, and, even more important, this allows me to use
again this great favourite picture used by me to reprsent them.
(The photo, from the
Smithsonian, is of Herbert Spencer Jennings and his wife)
And of course there is a pageant, something I do love in a book. You can find many of my posts on this topic, and more wonderful pictures like these two, using this link
There is the usual snobbishness and acceptance of the
innate superiority of the gentry. A former Lady Pomfret ‘had never put on a
pair of shoes or boots in her life’ – the maid did it. This does not, to me,
indicate superiority, but rather the opposite.
There is then a discussion of girdles – much featured on the blog last year – with the current Lady Pomfret objecting to these items
being called a belt:
‘I can’t see why one says belt
now,’ she added. ‘Belts don’t go from above your waist to half-way
down your thighs,’ to which Lucy replied that girdle was even sillier, but what
else was there to call them and her mother would say stays when she
bought them, which Lady Pomfret said was perhaps better than corsets.
Nice sociological moment in my ongoing researches.
Thirkell is very good at random conversations, and people
hiding their innermost thoughts, or misunderstanding each other, but I thought
in this book she went too far in her authorial voice. Take this:
‘I do see what you mean,’ said
Lydia, ‘and thank you very much indeed. I think I hear the front door’
(which phenomenon will readily be grasped by our reader) ‘so shall we go into
the drawing-room.’
The book is full of this – ‘you will know what we mean’ –
but in very pointless and unnecessary ways. I do not think the clause in
brackets adds anything. And another example:
They quite forgot to turn off
the stew in the oven (a phrase which every housewife will understand)
till they smelt something burning.
And then there were the authorial putdowns of people who pronounce
words differently and in general were hilariously stupid compared with the
poshos: they don’t have the breeding you see. This is the reason I can only
take Thirkell in small doses, never more than one book at a time.
But – it was entertaining when it wasn’t cringe-making…
Girdle picture,Vogue, 1951, via Clover
Vintage Tumbler.
Norman soldiers from the Builth Wells Historical Pageant,
one of my all-time favourite resources, via Flickr.
Elizabethan lady and gentleman, same source
People can keep writing books with pageant scenes, or finding new such books for me, and I will never run out of pictures, the collections online are just wonderful.
The Coronation itself is not featured much in the book, it
is the surrounding local events we are dealing with.
For interest, I looked at David Kynaston’s excellent book
on social history, Family Britain 1951-57 (he has done a series of them,
using contemporary resources including newspaper cuttings and Mass Observation
diaries, and they make for fascinating reading.)
‘As in the case of the Royal wedding six years earlier, it
had taken a while for public opinion to warm up.’ – and he quotes some very
neutral opinions on the Coronation. Of course there was a complete range of
views, and there are descriptions of decorations in streets (snap judgement:
more in terraces of working people than in middle-class suburbs), plans for
street parties, and the usual class consciousness, with a story of some parents
worrying about the mixture of children at the party. You do feel that any
normal child would just want to go to the party and eat cake and run around,
and not care who else was there. And to be fair to Angela Thirkell, she doesn’t
much distinguish the class of children – just seems to be not keen on any of
them.
I loved the detail that organizers who had collected money
for parties were reluctant to buy the food at the Co-op, because they might be
thought to be benefitting themselves unduly.
Co-op shops had a membership scheme, a kind of cashback.
Everything you bought was noted, and eventually you got a ‘divi’ – a dividend.
When you bought something you told the cashier your divi number to be sure of
getting your future discount. I remember as a child going to the Co-op for my
auntie, and being terribly worried afterwards because I had given my mother’s
divi number instead of that of her sister.
I do feel that Angela Thirkell and her party organizers
would have had no knowledge or worries about this particular aspect.
The weather was famously terrible on Coronation day, which
must have delighted the doom-sayers who had said people must be mad to be
planning to sit out in the streets.
My family were far from being Royalists, but when I was growing up, always in our house was an old book called The ABC Guide to the Coronation, by Lewis Broad with illos by Hazel Cook. It cost 2/6, and I think was on sale beforehand so you could understand what was going on. This book eventually came to me (no-one else wanted it) so I am giving it this late outing: top picture shows the cover and some of the content.
The 1953 Coronation has featured in various books on the blog:
Conjurer’s
Coffin by Guy Cullingford
Parenting
and Pageants (Charlotte Fairlie by DE Stevenson)
Dress
Down Sunday: Wildfire at Midnight by Mary Stewart
Xmas
Book Scenes: Village Carol Service
The Elly Griffiths book The Blood Card
Tuesday
Night History and Mystery: The 1950s Again
- Is a
modern thriller about a threat to the coronation of Elizabeth II
This book is set at the time of the coronation of George
VI:
To
Wake the Dead by John Dickson Carr
This extraordinary memoir by Princess Marie Louise features
many coronations, from Edward VII to Elizabeth II
My
Memories of Six Reigns by Princess Marie Louise




Are there any real housewives (that is, women who did the cooking and housekeeping themselves) in Thirkell? I remember a lot of Cooks mentioned, and some cook-and-housekeeper combos. Not to mention Nannies! Am I forgetting a lot? I didn't really understand either of those parenthetical author comments, but I'm obviously not from the right level of society!
ReplyDeleteAnother reader probably knows better than I, but my thought is exactly the same - families either have help, or are employed as help.
DeleteShe is questioning quite normal colloquial phrases. I presume she would equally comment on 'she answered the door', but it is perfectly reasonable, no-one would not undestand, and surely is actually one of those items from rhetoric, where one item stands in for another (metonym? Synecdocehe?) Twee comments not required thank you, especially ones that you suspect are implying that these usages have something wrong with them.
What about the Phelps family in Jutland Cottage (an Admiral and his wife and daughter)? IIRC the whole book is about how poor they are and how poor Margot has to do all the housework, and I’m fairly sure that at the outset they don’t have domestic help; but then all the gentry rally round to restore them to some kind of respectable middle-class equilibrium. Can’t remember whether that includes getting them at least a “daily”.
DeleteRe: the unnecessary parenthetical comments – I wonder whether pedantic readers had been writing in with criticisms of Thirkell’s more colloquial phrases and that’s what made her defensive?
Sovay
Mrs Parkinson (I think), the new vicar's wife, does her own housework. The Parkinsons seem to represent the new post-war middle class risen from what was the lower classes; he doesn't know how to pronounce Greek properly and she talks about "the kiddies," but the snobby gentry come round to seeing that at least their hearts are in the right place and they work very hard. I'm not sure which book they first appear in.
DeleteI'm glad you were both able to find some hard-working housewives.
DeleteSovay, that's very possible about the remarks, though I would have pictured Thirkell as not having a moment for any such complainants....
I'd forgotten about Margot--or rather I remember her mostly in terms of "foundation garments"! And Mrs Parkinson, was she the accident-prone lady who seemed to have a different injury whenever she showed up? Maybe she got her boo-boos from housework. I vaguely remember someone sneering about the new vicar's mis-pronunciations, but wasn't he (the sneerer) reprimanded later?
Delete"Belts" figure very largely in Jutland Cottage!
DeleteI remember the accident-prone woman - I found her extremely annoying but can't recall her name. I'm pretty sure she wasn't Mrs Parkinson though.
Sovay
Your level of memory/knowledge is much better than mine! I've read all these books, and blogged on many of them, and I do not remember the names or distinguish among them. I shall rely on you all for info
DeleteThe Parkinsons, Theodore ("Teddy") and Mavis, were distinctly un-posh: he went to university on a state scholarship and sometimes mangled his Greek and Latin, she was an undertaker's daughter, did her own housework and child care, got pathetically excited about new labor- or I guess labour-saving appliances. They were nevertheless eventually accepted by the gentry. So kind. (/s) They succeeded the very high-church Mr Miller and his wife, the former Miss Morris, of modest economic circumstances but unimpeachable pedigree. - Your blog friend, Trollopian, who ought to be cleaning my apartment (flat) not browsing CiB
DeleteThank you for the detailed expertise - most impressive.
DeleteAnyone who procrastinates on housekeeping to read about books is my kind of person.
Thirkell also wrote a historical novel about another coronation, that of Victoria in 1838, called Coronation Summer. I haven't read it, it seems rather unusual for Thirkell. Wonder if the snob factor would be even higher than in her Barsetshire books?
ReplyDeleteInteresting - if I saw a book by her called Coronation Summer I would assume it was just like this one! Somehow I don't fancy it.
DeleteI have to admit, Moira, I did feel the cringe in the story as you were describing it - especially the whole class thing. But still, I can see how you found it entertaining at times. And those are some nice bits about different clothes, too.
ReplyDeleteShe is always a mixture of snobbery, and fun observations about life and clothes. I can just about put up with that
DeleteAngela Thirkell and I have never got on but I will try this one because I love a pageant and there was so much pageantry in London after 1945. Maybe because it was easier lash up costumes from old clothes for an imagined past than find new clothes. Christianna Brand in Death of a Jezebel (1949) is good on this. Or maybe because. 'Poetry and pageantry, they say, are England's greatest arts' wrote Norman Hartnell in his autobiography. He doesn't say who said it but he did design the Queen's Coronation robes and many of the other costumes and dresses and the decor for the great day. His descriptions of the extraordinary sewing skills mixed with cheapskate economies are hilarious. For him the peeresses '...look like a lovely hunk of fruit cake; the damson jam of the velvet, bordered with the clotted cream of the ermine sprinkled with sugar of diamond' You can tell sugar rationing was still in place! I love his description of the dignitaries, too, especially Her Majesty Queen Salote of Tonga walking ' ...gracefully upon sensible sandals of beige suede'. I need those sandals.
ReplyDeleteThe peeresses sound more like a generously-filled Victoria sponge than a fruit cake (which would be shades of rich dark brown).
DeleteWas it Queen Salote who endeared herself to all by insisting on riding in an open carriage, visible to the watching crowds, despite the torrential rain? I’m not sure about the practicality of beige suede sandals in those conditions though!
Sovay
I have checked and it does say fruit cake in my copy but I absolutely agree - cream and jam must be a Victoria sponge. You are right about wonderful Queen Salote, yes she insisted on riding in an open carriage because she considered that the Coronation was for the people. I just love the idea of these anachronistic plain sandals and her gracefulness. She wore the sandals with a gorgeous strawberry coloured satin wrap. Fab.
DeleteI must read the Norman Hartnell book, it sounds wonderful.
DeleteQueen Salote was obviously wonderful, we can all love her. I'm sure she would willingly sacrifice her suede sandals to the rain to keep the crowds happy. And - they sound perfect don't they? Sensible and comfortable and smart.
Silver and gold: the autobiography of Norman Hartnell. Published by Evans Bros. 1955. My edition from V&A Publishing, 2019. It isn't currently available from the V&A but lots of 2nd hand copies knocking around
DeleteThank you! Duly noted
DeleteMiss Pemberton’s hat is superb.
ReplyDeleteLydia plus a pageant is so tempting but I’m not putting this one on the list, as I can only cope with very limited exposure to later Thirkell; I think she was one of those who assumed that once the war was over, life for the gentry would automatically revert to the way it had been pre-war, with leisure and money and servants and due deference from the lower orders, and the realisation that a lot of the wartime social changes were going to be permanent filled her with resentment which comes across in waves in some of the post-war books.
I’ve always thoughts that “stays” WAS the accepted upper crust term for the garment in question (“corsets” being vulgar, though the reason for this distinction was never clear).
Sovay
Very much so, re her post-war views, but then I didn't like her pre-war views about the settled way of life, either. For me I can put up with that for the fun bits, but I can easily understand that others feel differently!
DeleteStays were overtaken by corsets: stays more or less kept a straight line, whereas the corsets started to have cups (very roughly speaking). But that's not to say that the words didn't have class indications - I've not come across that distinction myself but am not arguing
Somehow I find the pre-war complacency more bearable than the post-war resentment!
DeleteI think we need Daniel Milford-Cottam to assist with the stays/corsets/girdle/belt issue.
Sovay
Being able to blame the socialists for everything is handy for her, post-War, and she doesn't hold back. Along with: 'but the old system suited US so well, why change it?'
DeleteYes, a visit from Daniel would be welcome...
Ah yes, “Them”! In one of the post-war books, IIRC, “They” were believed to be deliberately withholding stocks of swansdown powder puffs from the shops, just to spite the gentry …
DeleteSovay
While this is probably more apposite to the immediate post-war books, a recent non-fiction read, Daniel Cowling's "Don't Let's be beastly to the Germans" about the British occupied zone in Germany certainly helped explain some references I recall in the immediate post-war books to feeding our old enemies better than ourselves.
Delete,That reminded me about David Kynaston's "Austerity Britain" which suggested some of her rants reflected a more widespread public feeling than is easy to imagine now.. Perhaps an example of plus ca change. By the way, Kynaston namechecks Thirkell twice, and, judging from a quote from J G Ballard (just before the second reference) about the middle-classes he encountered after he came back from his civilian concentration camp, it sounds like she was towards the saner end of the ranters (or toned it down massively for publication).
I am tempted to re-read the Kynaston,- it might make me readier to think "this too will pass" about the bad temper of the current times and resist the temptation of viewing the past as always better and kinder than the present.
Sovay, I would like to believe that in relation to the quote that you give about Swansdown powder puffs, she was teasing her readers about the extent of their hatred for "them." I will admit that this may be wishful thinking, although there are quite a few occasions in the novels when it was clear that she was having fun and seeing what she could get away with- I recall that in one of the posts about the Brandons, the discussions of the necessity of mending daughter's knickers and the enthusiasm of Lydia for the carousel were rather surprising.
I enjoyed those Kynaston books very much, particularly when they challenged my ideas of how people acted in those days - the books were full of surprises, as you say.
DeleteThe powder puff bit is so funny that I think she must have meant it as a joke. And now I think about it, those odd moments are what make her bearable. Like the village called Winter Underclose...
AdrianDominic - my mum has Austerity Britain, and I really need to make the effort and borrow it from her! I’m not surprised that Angela Thirkell’s post-war views were widespread though – many people must have felt that they’d made huge sacrifices during the war to preserve their way of life, only to find that that way of life was gone for good.
DeleteDon’t Let’s Be Beastly to the Germans sounds most interesting , and I shall add it to my list. Another recurring post-war grievance that I remember seeing references to was that British industry was geared up as rapidly as possible after the war to produce all kinds of goods (possibly including swansdown powder puffs), most of which never appeared in British shops. The reality being that Britain was so deep in debt that anything foreigners could be persuaded to buy from us had to go for export, to try to improve the balance of trade, rather than to the home market.
I’ve read a number of post-war Thirkells but I don’t tend to re-read them, so the details get a bit hazy over time – however as far as I recall the swansdown powder puff comment was relatively serious and not coming from one of her more feather-brained characters; but in context it may simply have been the last straw that breaks the camel’s back. I think AT lost some of her lightness of touch in the later books, perhaps not surprisingly in the circumstances; I don’t recall elements such as the leitmotif of Delia’s knickers, and Lydia’s obsession with her “large farmyard bird”, featuring so prominently post-war.
Sovay
I'm sure plenty of people felt like that - but not as many as voted for a landslide victory for Labour. More people wanted change, and they too had made sacrifices.
DeleteDavid Kynaston does a great job of being even-handed I think, he is there to observe and report, not give his opinions.
I contrast him with another historian who writes similar books but who I feel a) has his thumb on the scale and b) just flat out gets it wrong about eras that I lived through in a sentient manner and he didn't.
I will have to consider the question of AT's lightness of touch - you make a compelling case
Sovay - I've only read the post-war books that Virago have republished, but suspect you are right - at the very least there is a lot more moaning to deal with, although there were still some good light touches as well in those.
DeleteI do know from other sources that the fact that rationing was actually extended post-war (especially on bread) combined with the Winter of 1947 being as bad as any since (apart perhaps from 1962/63) caused widespread discontent.
Also, the mockery when "them" decided to try to cheer up the middle classes by buying Algerian wine in bulk seems to have become a folk memory (certainly a story I heard often from people who were around at the time).
I have yet to read any of the biographies of her (nor the autobiographies of her children or brother), but a few references I found in a quick search suggest that she was, to say the least, a strong character.
Her youngest son reacted strongly to the reviews of a 1984 biography, which seemed to decide that she was a monster. He gave a talk entitled "The Assassination of an Authoress, how the critics took my mother to the laundry."
Apparently, her siblings referred to her as AKB, which stood for "Angela Knows Best" (a real tangent here, but think Angelina in Rugrats - I have nieces and nephews of various ages).
Her first marriage to a bisexual baritone who allegedly insisted on naming their first son after an ex-lover of his ended in a scandalous divorce after six years - it seems a chorus girl was mentioned and not one of their male servants.
Part of me can't help admiring a woman who, after 11 years of marriage to her second husband and living in Melbourne for 9, gets a loan from her godfather (J M Barrie of Peter Pan fame) to take her and her youngest son back to England on a trip home, effectively deserting her unemployed husband and then sets about earning a living by writing a book a year. Admittedly, one of them involved using a thinly disguised avatar for the second husband on a story about a troop ship taking Australian soldiers plus a few officers and even fewer wives back to Australia at the end of the war. Apparently, the soldiers are not dealt with unsympathetically.
I suppose that her writing may benefit from being a sum of her contradictions between her beliefs and experience- certainly the various middle-aged women who suffer from exhaustion and are indulged by the husbands and younger men can come over as simultaneously wish fulfilment and satire - certainly when you compare them to the Lydias of her world who just got on with doing things.
Moira - again without naming names, but there was one author whose book about the 1960s seemed to rely rather too much on Private Eye-the First 10 Years and George Melly's Revolt Into Style to gain my admiration.
Oh joy! A book about the Coronation (the one before the latest). Well, I have one to offer, complete with pageant and a new television set. But I'll save it just in case you do an entire post on books with Coronations in them. Oh please.
ReplyDeleteI have done so many coronations I'm not sure whether I can dig them all out again! There is a Paul Gallico book that I haven't done (but I didn't care for it so much...). Please tell me what your book is! You can email me the name if you want to keep it private 😀😀😀
DeleteNo pageant in fiction can compete with the Riseholme Elizabethan fete in Mapp and Lucia. I was, alas, born too late to take part in such a production. In the 1960s my elementary school class was made to perform folk dances at the local fete, but I think this was the last remnant of the tradition.
ReplyDeleteNerys
Ah Riseholme, indeed. One of my favourite factoids is that when they did a TV version, in the 1980s I think, the costume designers went to charity shops to buy old curtains to make the posh costumes, as they felt that is what have been used when the books were written. Satisfying.
DeleteFetes and shows of different kinds still go on, but you have a point - the performance element is somewhat lacking.
In the 50s, I called girdle's "corsets" and was quickly shushed and quashed. Now everyone calls them corsets because we've forgotten the terminology of girdle and belt. At school we called them "roll-ons".
ReplyDeleteRiseholme footnote: in the book Mapp and Lucia compete to appear in costumes decorated with flower borders from curtains - hollyhocks, delphiniums. Story garbled in telling? (Lucy)
The chintz flower appliqué rivalry was between Miss Mapp and Diva, before Lucia arrived on the scene – and has overtones of class consciousness, suitable for a comment on a book by Angela Thirkell.
DeleteIt was Diva’s idea and she was working on her coat and skirt, assisted by her maid Janet, when Miss Mapp found out by underhand means what she was doing and decided to steal a march. This she did by roping in her rather larger domestic staff to do the work, and thereby getting her appliquéed coat and skirt finished first. But Diva hit back by giving HER finished outfit to Janet to wear in public, thus suggesting to the upper circles of Tilling society that Miss Mapp had started a fashion trend suitable only for servants.
Sovay
Yes Lucy we need you as much as we need Daniel!
DeleteI don't know how you keep all these details in your head Sovay! We can rely on you too
"In the 50s, I called girdle's "corsets"
DeleteHaving worn both, I can attest that they have almost nothing in common. BTW, you gave me a bit of a fright yesterday evening - I came toodling around to check for a new post and got a terse message that the blog had been removed!
So glad it was a glitch.
This (American) baby-boomer grew up calling them "girdles" and was greatly nagged by my mom (Am.)/mum (Br.) to wear one, always, when in public. Girdles gave way to control-top pantyhose. Now we have "shapewear." Plus ca change. --Your blog friend, Trollopian
DeleteThe vocabulary distinctions are fascinating - keep them coming.
DeleteShay: it gave me a bit of a turn myself! Google decided I was in breach of policy, and i don't know why. They removed the blog: I asked for a review: they re-instated. But it was very unnerving, because I couldn't be sure they would do the right thing...
I too was dismayed when CiB went MiA, but I was tending to blame Blogger for the problem. Very glad to have you back! About Thirkell, I think her droll (if sometimes snarky) commentary helped make up for the snobbery. (I suppose that exposure to GA mysteries brought me to expect some classism too.) Sometimes I can laugh at Thirkell's assumption of superiority instead of getting mad at her, but I agree that she's trying at times. Something that bothers me even more than the snobbishness is Thirkell's attitude toward higher education for women. I'd like to have seen her go a few rounds with Dorothy L Sayers!
DeleteThank you for the concern - Google owns Blogger, and it was definitely Google I was dealing with, not friendly amateurish Blogger 😀😀😀
DeleteI like your analysis of Thirkell, good point about the GA comparison. And LOVE the idea of her debating with DLS, That would be the unstoppable force meeting the immoveable object!
I recall a friend having a similar clash with Google a few years ago, and being told by someone in the industry that if a blog is "reported" Google don't investigate whether the report is justified or whether it's mistaken or malicious - they just press Delete and leave it to the blogger to come back and ask for review.
DeleteSovay
Yes - and I have been involved in fighting off malicious complaints in other areas. Definite assumption of guilt by the overlords. But, as I say, they either take down one guilty post, or they ask you to - they don't remove the whole entire blog or channel.
DeleteAs I think I may have said before Thirkell is in the area where the Venn diagram of our literary tastes do not overlap. I have tried, but no ... Chrissie
ReplyDelete... and this is most certainly not the book to change your mind! But I think if you haven't warmed to her ever then she is not for you
DeleteI find I have the least sympathy with very early and very late Barsetshire - in my mind the wartime ones are the best, though it's a long time since I read any Thirkell and I may be forgetting which is which.
DeleteI like the wartime ones too - partly because always interested in stories of the Home Front, particularly those written at the time, no benefit of hindsight. And I fear, like you, I have trouble keeping times and names clear in my mind. I am always very impressed by the expertise of some of the commenters here.
Delete