Brightness by Elizabeth Jenkins

'...Marion Sugden, whose house it was, produced a cigarette pack from her bag; the cigarette she put into her mouth was the last, and she threw the empty packet with its pulled-out silver foil and tissue-paper on to the grass, chucking it as far as she could, for naturally she did not want the litter just outside her own front gate.  The weightless object dropped too near for her satisfaction, and she took a step after it, scuffing it with her toe a little farther off.'

Persephone Books has just reprinted Elizabeth Jenkins' book Harriet which I look forward to reading but in the meantime it is another of her books which has been occupying my time.  After stumbling upon a gorgeous black Virago edition of The Tortoise and the Hare two years ago and quickly becoming a fan of Jenkins' style of writing, I went back and scooped up Brightness for 75¢.  It's worth ten times that amount and then some.

Una Lambert lives in wind-swept New Broadlands with her son, Richard, just out of his teens.  Her husband drowned while serving as a naval officer barely two years into their marriage leaving her a young widow.    Raising her son while being useful to her neighbours and community keeps Una from feeling lonely.  She could not be more opposite in values to Marion Sugden whose family is very much part of the 'nouveau riche' set.  The local women who work part-time at the Sugden's house as domestics barely lift a finger as every mod-con in production make housework a breeze.  Their son, Derek, is nineteen years old and despite his father wanting him to make his mark on the family business he is not interested in anything which doesn't revolve around sports cars, flash clothes, women and himself.  I haven't run into such a narcissistic dynamic duo in literature as this mother and son in quite some time.

For the first three-quarters of the book the reader is immersed in the day-to-day events surrounding the Sugden and Lambert families.  Richard is beyond his years in accepting the Sugden's for what they are and through his words of wisdom and saintly guidance, Una, bears news of vacation plans and posh purchases with resolve.  One indulgence too many though brings about an horrific event that shatters these two families (note: tissues) and presents a dilemma to citizens within the community.  One voice in particular campaigns for justice and vows to stop at nothing until it is served.

If you thoroughly enjoyed Jenkins' The Tortoise and the Hare it is a cut above Brightness but the experience is still a richly satisying one so don't hesitate to pick it up...if you can find it.

The Tortoise and the Hare by Elizabeth Jenkins

It would take a stellar read to hold my attention with The Heiress back from school and being the lone dog walker and play toy of Deacon with R away.  The Tortoise and the Hare was definitely that and so much more, and to think it was a serendipitous purchase due to a riveting pair of red stockings on the cover.

Considering that I must be one of the last in this sphere of bloggers to read this quiet masterpiece I won't go into much detail about the synopsis.  In the simplest of descriptions this book is about a woman slowly coming to the realization that her husband is having an affair.

Imogen Gresham is younger than her husband, Evelyn, a handsome and confident barrister with an office in London.  Her day usually consists of seeing to the whims of her son, Gavin, who holds the same regard for her as his father.  She is nothing more than an ornament, someone who runs their errands or sees that their clothing is bought from the right shops.  I haven't quite decided if it's down to Jenkins' writing or my finally coming to terms with the character of the quiet woman but Imogen failed to frustrate me.  Yes, I wanted her to call Evelyn on his neglectful behaviour and excuses to spend time with Blanche the Bloated but I was willing to wait patiently for the eventual outburst.  Well, at least I hoped there would be something of the sort.

Disliking Blanche, Evelyn and even Gavin made it easy for me to put them on a team early on and separate them from Imogen.  I sat on the sidelines as quietly as Imogen, waiting for her to come to the conclusion that she deserved happiness from life for her own sake.  When that moment came it would have been easy to write a scene of a woman emerging as a butterfly in technicolour but I thought Jenkins stayed true to Imogen's character and the ending was a most satisfactory one.

The handful of peripheral characters were a wonderful respite, the Leeper family with their house in disarray added an element of fairy tale from which little Tim escapes his bohemian family.  And wasn't Cecil Stoner wonderful with her subtle yet potent jibes to Blanche?  Oh, just writing about it makes me want to turn right back to the first page and start all over again.

Thank you to everyone who told me I would love this book, you were right!  In fact, I enjoyed Jenkins' writing so much that I'm off to the dusty Reuse centre to pick up a copy of, Brightness, that I left behind last time.