Philosopy is for wimps

I made it! I've caught up! The one good thing about a 4 hour train journey to Wales to watch us lose the rugby (Stephen Jones, in the astronomically unlikely event that you're reading this, I want you to know that I haven't forgiven you yet) is that it gives one plenty of time for Powell-perusal.

So, yet again, I find myself trying to blog without really being able to remember what happened in this volume and what happened elsewhere. Maybe it's best if I concentrate on the bits I absolutely know for sure happened in this one - and in particular, the Widmerpool/Pamela Flitton scrap near the end. I didn't really know what to do with this. It is beyond doubt that Widmerpool is Not A Nice Man. But he didn't send Charles Stringham to his death. He put him in a unit he knew might be going to the Far East; Stringham was given the opportunity to get out, and he didn't take it because he wanted to go. Good for Stringham. It wasn't as though England had much to offer him. And then there's Templer. The way I read Pamela's rant, when combined with Widmerpool's responses, was that Templer was sent out to court a particular set of interests; British interests then turned another way and operations didn't bother to get Templer out. Widmerpool probably could have done more, but that doesn't make him a murderer. And then I got really confused because I couldn't work out whether we were meant to think that Pamela's outburst was over-the-top and wrong, or over-the-top but right. She's been portrayed throughout this volume as an unreliable narrator, but Widmerpool is meant to be a monster, right? So are we meant to believe her, or him? Is Powell being clever, using an unreliable narrator to attack Widmerpool and thus leaving us to draw our own conclusions? Or is he just using Pamela to make his own points about Widmerpool? - which doesn't work, because we can't believe her to be an authentic voice. Aaaargh!

I've got so irritated writing this that I really can't remember who did what with whom in this one. I quite enjoyed seeing Mrs Erdleigh again. Always nice to have Ted Jeavons knocking around. The military attaches were quite fun. Didn't see the point in the return of Kedward. Etc, etc.

However, I do think that this volume provides further support for my theory about Powell's attitude towards women (see last post) - he compares Pamela Flitton to Audrey Maclintick twice in The Military Philosophers. Will thinks I should add another category - completely subservient women who say nothing controversial and look decorative, and are therefore Suitable For Marriage (i.e. Isobel). I am not sure that this is warranted, as I still don't accept Isobel is a real character (as opposed to, say, some insipid wallpaper that hoves into view from time to time).

Dark Arts

Well, 'The Soldier's Art' isn't a cheery volume, is it? Although I did rather enjoy the last section, with both Widmerpool and Hogbourne-Johnson having rather an unpleasant time of it. Enjoy might be too strong a word, what with the story about Biggs hanging himself interspersed amongst the amusement - but as I'd forgotten who Biggs was by that point, it had less impact than it might have done. I did wonder whether Powell might deliberately have included the death of a minor character, who he would have expected to have fallen off the reader's radar, as an indicator of the callousness of war and those who are forced to live through it. But going on past evidence, that's not really his style. Anyway, it was hardly up with 'All Quiet on the Western Front'.

These war ones rather merge into a single whole, don't they? Again, I've had to flick back through the book to remind myself what happened in this one, rather than in The Valley of Bones. I was glad to see Stringham and Moreland again. My early dislike of Stringham has entirely evaporated and I now think he's great. This is probably helped by Powell's habit of giving Stringham (and to a lesser extent Moreland) all of his most insightful lines. I know we're supposed to see Stringham's arc as tragic, but I like him much more now than I did when he was a snobby schoolboy, and I think he's probably much more use in this guise than he would have been otherwise. Moreland, now that's really sad. He just doesn't seem to be able to cope with things at all, poor lamb. The whole idea of Mrs Maclintick feeding off her helpless, indecisive 'children' is deeply disturbing. Maybe Powell thought all women were, at base, either like Mrs Maclintick, or alternatively faithless, like Matilda and Priscilla. That would explain a lot.

I did find this volume moving, far more so than The Valley of Bones. I think I was most upset by Chips Lovell's death. He always seemed like a nice, happy-go-lucky bloke, so much more normal than most people in the Powell-iverse. I think I might have liked him if I'd met him at a party. Whereas I think I'd probably run away from most of the rest of them screaming.

Happy Xmas (The War is Over)

Polished off The Military Philosophers last night, and as we prepare to move into the winter section I felt it was appropriate to name this post after the supremely rubbish John Lennon Christmas song. It was, at least, better than Paul McCartney's effort, but that isn't saying much.

Goodness, Widmerpool is a complete shit isn't he?

I'd always retained some vestige of sympathy for him - it wasn't his fault he had the wrong coat at school after all - but after the revelations of this volume, the hand he may or may not have had in certain unfortunate deaths and his hideous confession to Jenkins re: the power he so obviously craves, all sympathy is gone. It's fairly clear that Powell believes that Widmerpool and the Labour Party deserve each other, but that seems very harsh on the Atlee government.

Hooray for the long and ridiculous Proust sequence though. A whole page of a quotation and a little trip to C-A-B-O-U-R-G. As silly as it is, I know that I too would be examining the esplanade for Albertine and her companions in polo caps, and hunting out the railway to take a trip to the Verdurins' villa. I very much enjoyed Jenkins' moment of excitement, which he relates this to his French companion only to be met with disappointment as he finds out that the chap hasn't even heard of Proust, let alone read him... I know that feeling well.

Overall, quite a tragic book this one, and the routine way in which death is dealt with is profoundly disturbing, particularly since some much-loved and key characters are struck down. Very much a pared-down cast in the final three volumes I expect - I'm resisting plot spoilers, so Anna you'll have to wait to see if your beloved Moreland survives. Nice to have a cameo appearance from the former Mrs Dupont, nee Jean Templer at the close. Also, does Powell think that Pamela Flitton counts as a believable female character? Rather speaks volumes about his attitude towards the fairer sex, doesn't it?

I would be a lot keener on giving this a nice Welsh title...

....if we had played better against Italy today.

Oh well.

I am getting slightly concerned that I am in fact the only person left Powell-blogging. What has happened to the rest of you guys? It's not that I don't like the sound of my own voice, but I am getting a tad concerned that the rest of you will get seriously fed up with me if you don't join in soon.

Anyway. The Valley of Bones. Not much happened, did it?

Things I liked:

- Jimmy Brent's new take on the Jean Duport story. I do like the way we keep getting this from different angles. It's probably the cleverest part of the series so far, and it seems to be the main vehicle for Nick's character progression.
- The Lord Haw Haw part. The first time I've ever read anything to give me any idea of the kind of thing he said. I loved the weird pronounciation of Germany.
- Gwatkin. Yeah, he has a silly name, and he's clearly a total weirdo, but he has a certain dignity which he keeps on his own terms, and which makes his downfall a wee bit sad.
- Deafy Morgan. How can you not like Deafy Morgan?
- The speed with which Nick went from being pleased to see you know who at the end to realising that old schoolmates don't necessarily make things better.

Things I really didn't like:

- Look you, spoilsport I do not want to be, but say I would that the people of the valleys DON'T SPEAK LIKE THIS. Nor do the ones from Anglesey, for that matter.
- Oh look, my wife might be in a house somewhere in the country about to have a baby. Do I give a shit? No I do not.

I acknowledge that this last is becoming a recurring theme. Perhaps I should just use a code word - like chauvinist - for future reference?

The Original

After I posted yesterday I went to the Wallace Collection where I saw the original of the painting that gives its title to the novel sequence (and thus indirectly to this blog). I wish I could say that it gave me great inspiration to get on with The Valley of Bones, but in fact I have never liked Poussin much and this one was no exception. I don't understand why he felt the need to work in a colour scheme which makes everyone look as though they're lit up by a raging fire which, strangely, you can't see in the picture.

I am sure, however, that this is down to my lack of knowledge about The Art.

Not winning any kindly competitions...

Finally finished 'The Kindly Ones', which took me rather longer than I had intended. However, the nice thing about bringing up the rear is that I can read back over everyone else's posts and see what they thought. Somewhat surprisingly, you may think (seen as we may generally give the impression that we don't agree on anything at all) I agree more with Will than with Andrew & Elliot about this one.

Perhaps it's because I read it somewhat sporadically, but I found the whole thing a bit, well, bitty. I liked the childhood 'memoir' but I felt that, because it was so long, it threw the whole of the book out of kilter. You have this long, funny and quite touching section which leads on to....something entirely unconnected. And then there are several more unconnected bits before we end with poor, lovely Moreland turning up, looking all dazed and confused, at Molly Jeavons' house. Glad as I was to see him again, I'd had several attacks of 'where-is-this-all-going-itis' before I got there. I had to flick back through the book to try to remember what had happened after I finished it, and now I think that wasn't because I read it in bits here and there (I did that with 'Casanova's Chinese Restaurant' and had no problems remembering that one) but because, whilst there are a number of nice vignettes, they are just that - vignettes - without much to link them.

I do tend to lose interest to a degree when the characters I like aren't around and - given that there aren't very many of those - this may be a bit of a problem. I am encouraged to see that Moreland crops up in later volumes, and I am hoping that Matilda's defection to Donners won't be permanent, although I am quite keen to find out what he gets up to in his cellars. Bit of a Max Mosley moment, perhaps?

I do agree with Elliot, though, when he says that Nick has become more bearable in this volume. You see a bit of self-awareness poking through, which is nice. I almost liked him in the part when he went to collect Uncle Giles' belongings and met up with Duport again. Having said that, the entire absence of Isobel - or even any concern about Isobel - throughout the narrative was, as usual, a bit offensive, speaking as one of those decorative little women things.