When Scott (aka Furrowed Middlebrow) raves about a novel, you take notice. Katherine Dunning’s little-known 1934 novel was his favourite read of last year and he wrote extremely enthusiastically about it on his blog – and, even better, he made sure a copy was in my hands. Naturally, he was right. The Spring Begins is an exceptionally well-written and engaging novel. (There aren’t any dustjacket images around, so the above image from Flickr isn’t very relevant but amused me.)
There are three heroines to the novel, whose lives sometimes overlap but are largely kept secret. We go between their three narratives in turn – first is Lottie, a nurse-maid for the Kellaway family and their young children. Lottie is a child herself, and manages to retain some carefreeness while having few childlike freedoms. She is naïve and kind and keen, learning about the world while almost preternaturally aware of her place in its rigid hierarchies. Coming from an orphanage and intimidated by anybody in power (and men particularly), she is privileged to have raised even to her lowly position.
“Now, then…” Isobel clung to her, trying to suit her steps to Lottie’s. Out in the corridor Mr Kellaway was passing down. Lottie flattened herself against he wall. She must never be disrespectful, she must always stand still and make herself as small as possible when the master of the house went by.
But Isobel was his own flesh and blood. She could stand before him balancing herself with delicately sturdy legs right in his way.
“Hello, Daddy!”
He put out his hand and ruffled her head. “Hullo, Monkey!”
Next is Maggie, the scullery maid, a little older than Lottie. Scott describes her as ‘racy, sensual’ in his review and that is perfect. Where Lottie is scared of men, Maggie is intrigued and impetuous. She seems unperturbed by others’ opinions – if Lottie’s carefreeness comes from a love of nature and a spiritual alertness, Maggie’s comes from an unabashed earthiness. I will confess, of the three main characters, I found her the least interesting. I enjoyed her company, but Dunning is a very psychologically astute writer and I think Maggie gave her less material than the others.
Thirdly – how appropriate that she is last in my list, as in so many things – is Hessie. She is of the impoverished gentlewoman type, at an age where marriage is not impossible but is increasingly unlikely. She works as a sort of governess, emphatically not the servant class but also not fitting in anywhere else. Her only equals are her mother and sister Hilda (all live together) and she is desperate for an escape. Lottie’s sections are the most enjoyable to read, but I think the Hessie sections are the best. The early-20th-century spinster is a well-worn type, but Dunning mines her desperation, her frustration, her hopeless hopes with a brilliance that makes it feel fresh. Here she is, talking to her mother:
“I’ve got to go out, too. I promised Rosie Bates I’d call at her house this evening. She’s got a book…”
“What book, Hessie?”
“Oh, just a book.”
“Don’t read anything that isn’t nice, Hessie,” Mother said.
“Rosie said it was good.”
“Where did she get it – from the Young Women’s Library? Can you remember its title?”
Supposing she screamed now. Just dropped the plates and opened her mouth and screamed. Hessie bit her under lip as she ran out into the kitchen. She laid the plates with a clatter onto the draining-board by the sink, and pressed her hands to her head. How could she live through Hilda’s wedding, and afterwards, too? Evenings alone with Mother, while Hilda sat with her husband, and afterwards Hilda and Albert went upstairs together. Hilda would be a wife, a married woman. Hilda would come back to see them, and she’d talk about ‘my husband’ and Mother and she would exchange meaning glances, leaving Hessie outside the fraternity of married women.
I’ve spent a long time telling you about the main characters, because there isn’t really a lot of plot. The Spring Begins is really a portrait of these three lives – what drives them, what holds them back; what they understand and don’t yet understand. It is rare for novels of this period to consider the lower-classes in any depth, yet in this novel it is the upper-classes who pass by in the background. Dunning treats all three women as deeply realised people, worthy of novelistic respect even if they don’t get it from everyone around them.
Exquisitely drawn characters is one of the reasons that The Spring Begins is a masterpiece. The other is Dunning’s writing. Throughout the novel she writes about the world with sensitivity and beauty, perfectly judging the balance between poetic writing and readability. The reader is never tripped up by over-extended imagery or self-indulgent prose – it is striking in a way that makes us more appreciative of the possibilities of observation. Of course, I have to give an example:
The blue in the sky was deepening a little. It was a clear soft blue that started high up and went on and on, up and up until the sky looked like a lake of crystal blue air. There were no clouds anywhere. The fields and hedges had a young, refreshed appearance about them, still cloaked with the coolness of dew and protected by the softness of the early sunshine.
Ahead of them Mr Kellaway’s big car rolled along, very smoothly and silently. The children watched it eagerly, calling to Mr Andrew to hurry-hurry when it disappeared around a corner. It was agonising when they came to double bends in the road and the big car slid round the second bend before they were properly around the first.
By eleven o’clock the sun was shining strongly. They were travelling no main roads now, and the hedges looked dark beneath their covering of white dust, the fields parched and tired, the woods aloof as if hoarding their shade and silence and dignity for themselves alone.
I’m so grateful to Scott to have had the chance to read this novel. I’m confident it will be among my favourite books of 2024. Sadly, it is currently extremely hard to find. I’ve already recommended it to the British Library Women Writers series – of course they’ll have to agree, and get the rights, but I have everything crossed that it’ll appear in the series one day. It’s a crime – an often-repeated crime, of course – that a writer as good as Dunning has been so neglected.