Britain
in war-time. Scenarios suggested by such
a simple line are plenty, and there are many hundreds – if not thousands – of novels
that portray such lives. Alison Macleod
has stepped into this crowded marketplace with a novel of quiet beauty. Unexploded, her fourth novel, introduces us
to the Beaumont family – Geoffrey, Evelyn and their eight year old son
Philip. It is 1940, and war is
threatening to spill onto British breaches.
In Brighton, the tension is palpable.
Geoffrey, a bank manager, has been appointed in charge of an internment
camp close to the holiday resort.
Evelyn, becoming disillusioned with marriage, is looking for something
to fill her days. Philip, meanwhile, is imagining
the day Hitler strolls down the promenade.
Into these lives appears a disruptive element: Otto Gottlieb, a ‘degenerate’
German-Jewish painter, and resident of the internment camp.
Reading
Unexploded I felt reminded of Graham Greene, in particular The End of the
Affair, another novel about passions explored against the backdrop of war, but
the literary heart that throbs behind Macleod’s novel is Virginia Woolf (who
briefly appears here). Evoking such
literary giants automatically brings comparisons – and Macleod is no Woolf (but
then, who is?) – but Macleod doesn’t evoke Woolf simply as homage, she has
Woolf’s death play a part in the decision Evelyn makes. Such decisions reveal Macleod as a considered,
intuitive novelist. Such decisions allow
her characters to breathe on the page: they are given reality by their
reactions to such events, rather than being pieces moved about on a chessboard
by an authoritative voice.
I
mention this as sometimes Macleod’s novel slips into authorial voiceover in its
early parts – she has information she needs the reader to know (“They moved into
Number 7 on the 1st of May 1928 and shocked her mother by dispensing
with a live-in maid.”) Such authorial
description provides knowledge of the characters personality to the reader, but
it has been told to us, rather than revealed through the actions of the
characters. As with the appearance of
Woolf – which first appears to be a pleasure Macleod has allowed herself, until
it is revealed to have purpose – show Macleod to be a finer novelist than these
few, early flaws might suggest.
There
are other flaws too – I found many of the early chapters with Philip, the son,
went nowhere and provided little insight into the life of a child living in
war-time Britain (but even these early chapters coalesce into something
altogether more startling, and provide the nail-biting finale). Evelyn’s access to Otto, after being resolutely
denied by her husband, comes too quickly and without latter challenge that it
stretches credibility. Also, Otto’s later,
and secret, residency on her street enhances that feeling of incredibility, as
this was a time in which people were keeping such close eye on one another.
However,
despite these flaws (which do not in any way derail the novel, or ones
enjoyment of it), Unexploded is a novel of quiet, restrained beauty, of lives
threatening to explode. She has bought
to life Brighton in 1940 with crystal clarity – you can see it, smell it, feel
the threat of danger in the air. The
whole novel feels impeccably researched, and yet never once feels that Macleod
is wearing her learning visibly – this simply is the world, alive before our
eyes. The lives of the Beaumont family
remain engaging and, through to the cinematically intense finale, never steps
into melodrama. Unexploded is a very fine novel, deserving of
wide readership.
Will
it be shortlisted?
There
is always the danger that its subject matter might appear a little too obvious
to see it shortlisted – there really are too many novels that show British romantic
life during the Second World War to count – but Macleod’s considered prose
deserves rewarding.
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