Anyway,
the Reverend Timothy Fortune is a
one-time bank clerk (he has the perfect name for someone who works with money),
who uses a legacy from his godmother to train as a deacon and, once ordained,
leaves England for St Fabien, a port on an island of the Raratongan Archipelago
in the Pacific. But after 10 years Rev Fortune feels a call to take up residence
on the remote island of Fanua which, so Warner tells us, ‘could only be seen in
imagination from that beach edged with tin huts where Mr Fortune walked slowly
up and down on evenings when he had time to’.
In
the preface Warner says that when she first moved to London one of the books
she borrowed from the local public library in Westbourne Grove was a volume of
letters by a woman missionary in Polynesia.
I can’t
remember the title, or her name; but the book pleased me a great deal, it had
the minimum of religion, only elementary scenery, and a mass of details of
everyday life. The woman wrote out of
her own heart – for instance, describing an earthquake, she said the ground
trembled like the lid of a boiling kettle.
The
book stayed in her memory, and elements of it blended with a vivid dream she
had in 1925.
A man
stood alone on an ocean beach, wringing his hands in an intensity of despair;
as I saw him in my dream I also knew something of his circumstances. He was a
missionary, he was middle-aged, and a deprived character, his name was Hegarty,
he was on an island where he had made only one convert: and at the moment I saw
him he had just realised that the convert was no convert at all.
She
jumped out of bed and started to write, and although much of the dream faded, the
facts remained, and she felt as if she had actually experienced the man’s
loneliness, simplicity and despair, as well as the look of the island.
She
changed the name of the man, but the unknown library book and the dream
combined to form the kernel of Mr Fortune’s Maggot, and she seems to have
written it in a kind of frenzy, as if she had been taken over by some force
outside herself, and there seems to have been little editing or alteration – as
far as I can see the novel is pretty much as it came out of her head. She tells
us:
I wrote
steadily, and with increasing anxiety, not because I had any doubts about the
story, but because I was so intensely conscious that the shape and balance of
the narrative must be exactly right – or the whole thing would fall to
smithereens, and I could never pick it up again.
She
wept ‘bitterly’ when her work was complete, and I found the account of her
reaction to the final sentence so moving that I very nearly cried myself.
I
know this is a bit of a ramble, but I thought her explanation of how this
strange and extraordinary novel came into being was fascinating, and it helps
to put things in context. And by the way, if you are wondering about the title,
there is a note at the beginning which states: Maggot. 2. A whimsical or
perverse fancy; a crotchet. But words can be double-edged, and the maggot that
destroys from within seems to have a bearing here as well.
So,
back to the book. Rev Fortune’s preparations for departure to the island of
Fanua are every bit as wonderful as those of William Boot leaving for Ishmaelia.
He doesn’t take a cleft stick, but his purchases, which show a ‘nice mix of
thrift and extravagance’, include:
...tinned meat, soup-squares,
a chest of tea, soap, a tool-box, medicine chest, a gentleman’s housewife, a
second-hand harmonium (rather cumbrous and wheezy but certainly a bargain), and
an oil-lamp. He also bought a quantity of those coloured glass baubles which hang so
ravishingly on Christmas trees, some picture-books, rolls of white cotton, and
a sewing machine to make clothes for his converts...
But
nothing goes to plan: the islanders are polite, cheerful, indolent, happy-go-lucky,
- and stark naked. They are not a bit interested in being westernised or
becoming Christians, and are quite happy to let
Rev Fortune go his way, while they continue to go their’s. They
certainly don’t want to be civilised and, as in Warner’s dream, there is only one
convert: Lueli, a beautiful young boy who is anxious to please. But, just as in
the dream, the boy is not a convert at all, and still worships his pagan God. And
it is Rev Fortune who loses his faith...
I
love the way Warner writes. It seems such a simple narrative, then - wham! All
of a sudden she sneaks in and knocks you sideways with an unexpected turn of
phrase that can be so sharp and subversive it takes your breath away, and you
wonder if you’ve read it right, because she’s so subtle in the way she does it.
She is, I think, a very sly writer, who can turn the world upside down in just
a few words.
 |
| Sylvia Townsend Warner |
Yet
she cab also write tenderly about emotions; deals honestly with questions of
love, faith, belief and matters of the spirit, and evokes the lush beauty of an
island paradise which has its darker side, as we discover through the terror of
an earthquake and volcanic eruption – scenes which reflect the upheaval in Rev
Fortune’s own feelings about life. To be honest, I am not at all sure this book
would be published by a new author today. I am certain there would be questions
regarding the portrayal of the islanders and the relationship between priest
and boy, but it really is all very innocent and, like so many other books of
this period, it is very much of its time.
I really enjoyed Lolly Willowes, and have this one on my shelf, so I am really looking forward to reading it now. I love your description of her slyness - spot on!
ReplyDeleteOh, thank you Vicki - it's a wonderful quality for a writer to have, because it makes you look, and think, and think again. You can't take anything for granted.
DeleteI've heard of this but never thought of reading it until now -- it sounds fascinating and I shall look out for it forthwith. Thanks -- great review!
ReplyDeleteHarriet, I really enjoyed it, but I found it difficult to write about because it is so odd. It has a curious dream-like quality to it, and I kept expecting Mr Fortune would discovers his inner self (like Lolly Willowes)but he never does really.
DeleteYou've made me want to read this! Did it remind you of Mr Pip at all?
ReplyDeleteI did think of Mr Pip while I was reading it, but of the differences, rather than the similarities - it would be interesting to read them alongside each other, because the authors view life from different sides as it were, in very different times. Race and conflict are not issues for Townsend Warner - I think the story would have worked in any small, isolated, enclosed, unspoilt, idllyic community. But I think there are similarities between the characters of Mr Pip and Mr Fortune.
DeleteI love Sylvia Warner's short stories, but her novels have always seemed rather intimidating. But you might just have inspired me to pick one up!
ReplyDeleteI avoided her for years, thinking she would be 'difficult', but I'm find her very accessible. Try Lolly Willowes - that is fantastic. This one is probably a bit more of a 'Marmite' book that people love or hate!
Delete