“Nervous, incompetent,
dowdy and shy.” Possessed of these self-descriptive and self-denigrating
attributes, impediments to life of enjoyment or promise, Miss Guinevere Pettigrew,
the heroine of Winifred Watson’s charming 1938 novel Miss Pettigrew Lives
for a Day, wrestles with the unexpected events of a singular,
transformative day that begins when she answers an employment announcement for
a nursery governess – a last chance to save herself from the poorhouse.
Before I get to the meat
of Miss Pettigrew (cooked precisely à
point), I feel obliged to mention Persephone Books, a London-based
publisher who has put out Miss Pettigrew plus some 90 other volumes, all
but a handful by women, providing an invaluable service of rescuing from
oblivion writers like Winifred Watson. These are lovely editions. Jorge Luis
Borges, in one of his Norton lectures, “This Craft of Verse,” comes across,
perhaps inadvertently, as dismissive of the physical book. I understand
perfectly what he means, but since reading his essay I've held a quiet and unfair grudge
against his omitting a nod to this craft of bookmaking (unfair, as he probably
appreciated book arts as much as anyone, given his history of immersion in
libraries). I like well-made books. I like the smell of them, the way they feel
in my hands, the artistry involved in putting them together, and the work of a
talented designer. And while I’m grateful to wonderful teachers, friends,
reviewers and bloggers for showing me the way to many terrific works of
literature, I’d be remiss if I didn’t also credit book designers - including the
person who came up with the cover for the first English language paperback edition of Borges’
own Labyrinths (ah - her name is Gilda Kuhlman. Isn’t the Internet
convenient? Thank you, Gilda.). Labyrinths was one of many cherished books
of my adolescence that I picked up solely by judging their covers. So while
indeed Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (and any other work of literature)
may well live for more than a day regardless of the form of its presentation,
I’m sorely tempted, whenever I write about a book, to include in my review, as
did Paul Lukas in his now sadly defunct magazine “Beer Frame,” an assessment of
the book’s physical attributes: the heft, the number of pages, the typeset, the
quality of the paper, and perhaps most importantly in this physical realm, the
quality of its cover design.
The high quality of the
design of Persephone Books is noticeable immediately. They’re basically trade
paperbacks, but the paper in these editions has a weight and solidly
reminiscent of that one can find in pre-war books. Each volume also comes with
a handsome grey minimalist dust jacket, discreetly hiding beautiful end papers
drawn from old textile and wallpaper patterns. The one gracing the interior
cover of Miss Pettigrew is a dress fabric dating from the year of the
novel’s publication[1]:
Leaving aside these material
attractions, Miss Pettigrew also won me over, even before I’d started
reading it, by what must count as one of the great tables of content among all the works in my personal library:
Thus, one knows right
away that the action of the book (at least up to the last chapter) unfolds in a
single day. For all the certainty of this timeframe, the action is anything but
determined, as it’s in fact built on one surprising adventure after another. These
unexpected events allow for a flood of new experiences for Miss Pettigrew and
new opportunities for Watson’s sharp observations on gender relations, class
and social conventions, and the upkeep of appearances. They also draw out of
Miss Pettigrew talents unknown even to herself, capabilities that - without, I
hope, giving too much away (this is, after all, a classic ugly duckling story,
so the direction of the plot, unlike the events that punctuate it, is fairly
predictable) - begin their work of transformation by giving her greater
confidence, self-respect, and liveliness.
“Liveliness” might
describe the chief aesthetic quality of Watson’s writing. Though her novel is a
something of a bagatelle, and takes minor faux pas in a few places (for
example, elements in Miss Pettigrew’s interior monologues sometimes cross
signals with the third person narrator, creating an unintended trick of narrative
perspective that a magician might have trouble duplicating), the narrative
sparkles, particularly in Watson’s whip-snap smart and crisp use of dialogue,
which on occasion manages to incorporate so much unspoken communication that it comes across like a Mantan Moreland
skit in which the characters know so well what one another will say that they
don’t even need to completely articulate their thoughts.
That Miss Pettigrew
calls to mind Hollywood is hardly accidental. Miss Pettigrew could, in
fact, be considered a Hollywood novel despite its British setting and author.
One need hardly learn that Guinevere Pettigrew’s chief source of amusement is
the cinema to recognize that the novel is distinctly patterned after 1930’s
screwball Hollywood comedies – like something penned by Philip Barry or
directed by Howard Hawks or Leo McCarey - down to its star-like secondary
characters and the glamorous life they lead in stark contrast to the banality
from which Miss Pettigrew has suddenly emerged. And like the films on which it
is patterned, Miss Pettigrew provides enough high-quality entertainment
to allow one to live for a day – or at least for a few hours.
I loathe doing in a
review what I’m about to do almost as much as I loathe finding in a book something
like what I’m about to mention, but there’s a black mark against Watson’s
novel, one of those faults so deflating as to impact one’s appreciation of the
novel’s other eminently commendable qualities, and that is a perceptible anti-semitism
made all the more unfortunate by its entirely gratuitous presence. It appears
in only two brief instances, but one of them suggests a disheartening defense
of racial purity. Given that the novel was written in 1938, three years after
the Nuremburg laws and when the flight of tens of thousands of Jews from
Germany was already well-known, the gratuitousness of this attitude is
particularly galling. But this fault apparently didn’t keep Miss Pettigrew
Lives for a Day from becoming immensely popular upon its publication, and nor
should a 21st century sense of political correctness keep today’s
readers away. Aside from the
poverty barely kept at bay in the novel’s opening pages, this reactionary
element may be the one revealing glimpse - in this impossibly romantic, perceptive,
tremendously entertaining comedy - of the darkness lying just outside the
novel’s bright escapism.
[1] Apparently,
Persephone has also released Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day in a
“Persephone Classics” edition, which appears – from my squinting at the tiny
image of it on the Persephone Books web site - to be marred by a prominent
advertisement for the movie version of the book that came out in 2008.
The Persephone books are wonderful and although, the "object" book doesn't usually fascinate me, I have a weakness for beautiful paper and they are really well done.
ReplyDeleteI have this book and the DVD right here and am very tempted to try them both. It's probably better to read the book first. I'm not sure now whether the movie is British or American.
That touch of anti-Semitism is very deplorable. I find this constantly in older books.
Caroline - I have the DVD too currently sitting around the apartment, but I haven't seen it yet. Let me know what you think if you see it, and particularly if you get around to reading the book.
ReplyDeleteLovely review, Scott. I too was reminded of those old screwball comedies along with another Howard Hawks movie, one from the 1950s: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. (I'm thinking of Miss LaFosse and her pal, Miss Edythe Dubarry.) You are right to highlight the two instances gratuitous anti-semetism - the second one is particularly cutting. That aside, it's an utterly charming story. I just wish Howard Hawks had snapped up the production rights back in the day.
ReplyDeleteThese Persephone books are beautifully produced. I can't recall if you've ever been to their shop during one of your trips to London. If not, it's well worth a visit.