I am learning humility late in life. D E Stevenson is another of those authors I turned my nose up at when young and silly. The list of such authors grows and grows: Richmal Crompton, Dorothy Whipple, Hugh Walpole, Miss Read, Angela Thirkell and so it goes on.
Persephone have recently republished Miss Buncle's Book. I was not sure if I wanted to read it or not and was havering a bit when I picked up a copy of another D E Stevenson, The Two Mrs Abbotts, when I was manning a book stall a few weeks ago. An old, battered, falling apart paperback, published in the 1960s with the most ghastly and inappropriate cover of two rather glam ladies sitting drinking tea and trying terribly hard to look sexy and demure. It is a hideous photograph. Well, I was going to bin it as unsellable when I spotted the author and thought that I would take it home with me. Within a few chapters I realised that this was a sequel to Miss Buncle's Book telling what happened after her foray into writing the novel which upset the entire village in which she lived. I carried on reading it even though I was perhaps spoiling the surprise of its precursor, and found myself thoroughly enjoying it. Very very Thirkell, very very Richmal Crompton. Set in a village with all the usual suspects and characters one finds in village life. So I read it, liked it and then of course, got on line and ordered a copy of Miss Buncle's Book.
And I loved it. Sat down and read it straight through in one sitting with the odd tea break here and there but otherwise totally engrossed in this delightful and witty story.
Barbara Buncle is a dowdy spinster living in the village of Silverstream. We are not told her age but I vaguely get the impression she might be in her mid-thirties. She dressed appallingly badly and seems to lead a life of unremitting virtue and boredom. She realises that her investments are producing very little income any more and she really is quite desperate for money so she writes a book. As you do. (Wish I could do this with such ease...). Miss Buncle writes about what she knows - and what she knows is life in a village and as she weaves her story, she bases her ideas and narrative on her neighbours and members of the village, embroidering wildly though she unerringly hits upon the characteristics of her protagonists which they would prefer kept hidden.
The leader of society in the village, snobbish and bullying, used to be on the stage but wants everyone to forget her lowly start in life; a bad tempered novelist who cowes his wife and children into petrified silence; a money grabbing mean spirited woman living alone who decided to make a dead set for the new vicar who she hears has private means and is wealthy - Miss Buncle takes their lives and adds a twist and reveals them for what they are. Well, of course they recognise themselves and are furious and determine to do something about it and to track down the author of the book who has had the novel published under the name of John Smith. It goes without saying that the book is a huge best seller.
Miss Buncle is one of those English spinsters who tend to be overlooked and taken for granted:
"Meeting Miss Buncle in the street, Mr Abbott would not have looked twice at her. A thin dowdy woman of forty he would have said (erring on the unkind side in the matter of her age) and passed on to pastures new. But here, in his sanctum, with the knowledge that she had written an amusing novel, he looked at her with different eyes"
Miss Buncle speaks the truth, rather inconveniently at times, and is incapable of dissembling and this is what makes her charming and makes readers warm to her. It is this truthfulness and the knack of going straight to the heart of a person which makes her dangerous as a writer as she watches, notes and then writes about everything she sees. And when asked about her book:
"Why did you write it? How did you feel when you were writing it? Have you ever written anything before? he asked.
'I wanted money' said Miss Buncle simply'"
Now I like that answer. No faffing about or waffling on about artistic integrity or the compulsion to write and express her feelings, no 'I wanted money'.
Priceless.
Loved loved loved this book. I sat and beamed and giggled all the way through it, but also admired the underlying sharpness and acute eye and ear. Not one of those 'nice' books at all, but perceptive and wise and I enjoyed every sentence.
Most of DE Stevenson's books are out of print and second hand copies are hard to find. I found two a week or so ago when I visited Cambridge, Mrs Tim flies Home and Vittoria Cottage, about which I know nothing but I am very much looking forward to reading them. I always like to have an author or two to track down and as I am visiting Hay on Wye in June, DE Stevenson is going on my Keeping an Eye Out For list and I hope I can make some discoveries.
Bloomsbury are republishing Mrs Tim of the Regiment later on this year, so I have obviously stumbled across one in this series which is serendipity working well. With Bloomsbury and Persephone leading the way, perhaps D E Stevenson is due for a revival. I do hope so.
