Most authors write the same sort of book over and over again. And I don’t just mean the Ivy Compton-Burnett type, where each novel is resolutely interchangeable (and yet brilliant). Even those who are able to shift in terms of format, character, genre tend to have the same worldview and sensitivities as they keep going.
That’s why it was so interesting to read Lettice Cooper’s 1980 novel Desirable Residence, published when she was 83. Most of us who know her are probably chiefly familiar with the 1930s novel The New House – one of the few books to have been both a Virago Modern Classic and a Persephone. And it’s great – and very of its time. How would this octogenarian take the 1980s?
The novel is, again, about people moving into a new house – but that’s about the only similarity there is. In this case, it’s a small block of flats – old Hilda Greencroft on the top floor, the Blackstones on the next down – and a young couple have started squatting in the ground floor flat. ‘The first three’ is the ominous title given to the first half of the book – Polly and Dennis Dyson, and their baby Brian. Unable to cope with living with Dennis’s mother any longer, Polly has dictated this move – clinging to the vague strength of ‘squatters’ rights’ and hoping that any media attention given to their eviction will get them a council flat.
The neighbours are surprised but not especially horrified. Hilda is a kind lady who sees the vulnerability beneath Polly’s hardness. The Blackstone parents are chiefly occupied with their own foundering marriage, while their son Simon is obsessed with the well-intentioned cult he intends to join, and their daughter Tasmine thinks this is a perfect opportunity to do some research for a school project.
But things take a turn when other squatters hear about the place, and join Polly and Dennis. ‘The others’ (the second half of the book) shows us as a group of petty criminals move in – unafraid to victimise Polly and Dennis, and distinctly changing the dynamic of the house.
I was amazed that Cooper wrote this novel. It has the same storytelling talent of her earlier novel, but there is nothing false or jarring about the sharp modernity of it. She throws around expletives, and I found it genuinely scary at times – her violent characters are chillingly real. Here is a writer who changed with the times, equally convincing as the 14 year old as she is when writing old Hilda.
The one fault I found, in fact, is offspring of this talent – we are taken into every character’s mind, even if they only appear for a few pages. This means the narrative force gets a bit diluted – and I think the novel would have felt a bit more focused if there had been one dominant character to act as the lens for the events.
Still, a very surprising – and surprisingly good – novel. Luckily I have a few more of hers on the shelf, waiting.
How fascinating! I’ve found that with even my favourite authors, they struggle to really properly cope with modernity – for example, in some of dear Agatha’s later mysteries the modern elements are a little forces or uncomfortable. Obviously not an issue for all writers!
Ooh this does sound good. I loved Fenny and the New House, and fully intend to get National Provincial if Santa doesn’t. So odd somehow to think of her writing in the 1980s. This is one to look out for.
I’ve never read anything by her, but she seems to have written across such a range of subjects, even Guy Fawkes !
Very interesting! I love what you’ve said about how extreme the contrast is in her storytelling tone (and the variety of voices), I probably wouldn’t have tried something so “recent” of hers, so thanks for the nudge in this direction!