THE SUNDAY REVIEW | THE FORTNIGHT IN SEPTEMBER – R.C. SHERRIFF

I love discovering quiet books that have completely escaped my notice for years, but that suddenly become reading experiences that irrevocably change my internal literary landscape. This is one such book. It was published in 1931, and written by a WWI survivor who had come to fame when he wrote a play, Journey’s End, based on his wartime experiences. He went on to write for films and was nominated for an Oscar for one of the screenplays he adapted. And yet, this novel is brilliant in its understatement. He wrote this one quickly, over a six week period, and when he turned it in to his publisher he fully expected it to be refused. Instead, it was published exactly as it was written and has now been revived by Persephone Books as one of the classic pieces of literature that they think deserves a comeback. I fully agree.

This is an incredibly simple story on the surface. It’s the story of a family of five – Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, and their three children, Dick, Mary and Ernie – who are getting ready to go on a two week vacation to the seaside in 1930s England. The story begins with the family’s preparations for the trip the day and evening before leaving – division of chores, packing, making sure the house is prepared for their absence, ensuring that their neighbours have been properly entrusted with caring for their bird and cat. There is no small amount of anxiety that surrounds this preparation, as the book starts with Mrs. Stevens sharing her fears about Clapham Junction (a busy London train station) and the dread she carries for the journey. It almost seems farcical to begin with, the level of nearly military discipline that goes into carrying out Mr. Stevens’ list of tasks that have been compiled over years of preparing for their September trip, the amount of detail that is entered into the planning, the tasks that seem completely unnecessary (like cleaning and oiling all the garden implements and leaving the garden shed in perfect order). And yet, this sets the stage for this family. It gives us an understanding of how they live their lives, how important outward appearances are to them, how they feel about their neighbourhood and this holiday.

As the story progresses and we see the family embark on this long-awaited (and, in the case of Mrs. Stevens, dreaded) journey, we get to see how each navigates some of the obstacles that they encounter, how they feel about one another’s actions, how they judge or appreciate one another, what makes for a good journey (luggage being properly stickered and stowed, finding the perfect seats in a less busy carriage, fortuitous departure of other travelers, the weather, the reading material, their clothes and shoes) and what they are each anticipating as the moment when they will relax and feel as if the journey’s difficult parts are behind them, and only the excitement of the trip is ahead.

The story progresses through their trip, and as it does so we get to spend time in each character’s head in turn. We learn what their worries are, how they feel about various parts of their lives at home, what their hopes are, which parts of the holiday are the most exciting, how they feel about their accommodations and host and what they are motivated by in their decisions of how to spend their time while visiting Bognor Regis. It’s fascinating to spend time with each character, and to compare how we perceived them when seen through the eyes of their family to how we see them once we know their innermost feelings.

Each character, throughout the book, has to grapple with some kind of a challenge. Whether it’s one specific to the vacation (like Mrs. Stevens’ fear of Clapham Junction) or one they’ve left back home (Dick, 17, has left school and begun work as a clerk, but is deeply unhappy. Through spending some time alone, lost in thought, he is able to work through his dissatisfaction and figure out what he wants to pursue in his life and what he owes his father and school in the process). This is the most enlightening portion of the book – seeing each character’s internal landscape and witnessing them as they work through their challenges and either realize that they had blown things out of proportion, that they need to change their perspective, that they are owed the opportunity to choose their own path, or that the world can be both more and less threatening than it appears.

This book is the absolute epitome of the phrase, “no plot, just vibes.” But it is a brilliant example of it. Each tiny detail that Sherriff presents, each tiny thought or emotion, shows us something about these characters that could not have been told to such great effect in straight narrative alone. These details also wordlessly root the story in its time and place, and show us what daily routines looked like and what things (often ones we would now consider negligible) constitute a luxury. It’s all depth, and better for it. Rarely have I been so engaged in a book in which so little happens. The vacation itself isn’t even very exciting – we discover that the couple first visited this vacation home during their honeymoon, and the family have literally made the exact same journey each year since. There’s nothing new or exciting in this plot. And yet, it manages to pull the reader onwards with unrelenting force based solely on the feelings it evokes and the tiny revelations it makes about each character. It’s a masterful literary achievement, and one I’m so grateful to have discovered (thanks to this episode of The Graham Norton Book Club).

Of course, like any book written from the past, it’s not perfect. It was written by a man in the 1930s, and he attempts to enter the minds of both the mother, Mrs. Stevens, and her teenaged daughter, Mary. Their minds are the least nuanced, the least revelatory, and the most mundane. Mrs. Stevens is presented as being wholly concerned with the minutiae of preparation, she has no thoughts of dissatisfaction with her lot, no nostalgic memories of her less tied-down youth. She’s also written as extremely nervous and in need of her husband’s steady hand to keep her feeling safe and secure. I’m sure that at this time in history, this is how women were perceived, and to a large extent, their lives were smaller. But as a modern housewife who has all the modern conveniences and still finds life a bit samey, boring and unfulfilling, I would have been more interested in her thoughts that went beyond her family and house. Though her behaviour would have had to be in keeping with the housewife expectations of the time, I would wager that her mind ventured much farther afield, even if it did so with some trepidation. She has the least depth of any of the characters, and the least development. She isn’t even allowed to enjoy her holiday – she spends the whole time fully dressed in her traveling clothes and leather shoes. She doesn’t get to lounge at the beach with her family, rather she goes grocery shopping and provides them with mid-morning snacks as they engage in games, swimming and sunbathing. Even when she does arrive at the beach, she sits stiffly (and one would imagine uncomfortably) fully clothed and never once gets to kick off her shoes or enjoy some leisure. The fact that she gets her shoes polished rather than doing so herself is presented as the highlight of her trip. I continually compared this to the book Ducks, Newburyport, in which we are presented with a thousand-page internal monologue of a modern stay-at-home mother, whose thoughts range both far and wide, and when the do rest on her home-making duties, tend to rush through them in a flurry of lists and annoyances. But at least she is allowed this rich internal landscape. This representation of a bland and nervous woman infuriated me more than I can express.

Even Mary, the daughter, is only able to explore in her mind her admiration for another, more sophisticated, young woman and think about how much she wants to get to know her and emulate her. When she does finally head out on the town to meet up with her new friend, she is suddenly filled with a fear that makes her delirious and dizzy because some young men looked at her in a jeering way. Suddenly she feels as if the world has begun to transform around her into a nightmare landscape of threatening characters. She comes out of this when her friend finally arrives, and they head off to saunter through the town, mostly, it seems, to afford the young men in the area an opportunity to admire them. Again, I understand that at that time young women’s value was placed on their attractiveness to men. Finding a “fellow” and becoming engaged was a huge goal, and getting married to a man who could provide financial and physical security was the final aim of a woman’s life. I do understand this – it’s how things were back then. But again, I would have much more enjoyed it if her mind was not solely inhabited by this alone. Did she read any books on her trip? Did she notice the landscape, wonder at the lives of any other vacationers? Did she have any hopes for what she wanted to do or see? Did she have any concerns about school or her future? Does she genuinely want this expected route to be the one she travels, or does she ever, like her brother, wonder if there could be more to life than what her mother had? Did Sherriff ever consider that the inside of a woman’s mind may not be entirely taken up by what he saw them doing on the surface? I almost wish he hadn’t even tried to inhabit the female characters if he was going to do them such a disservice in imagining their inner lives. Until I started writing this review, I hadn’t realized how much the female characters’ representation on the page rankled, even though I did love this book. But it most definitely did.

Another major looming thing that we know about as we’re reading, but that the characters don’t, is that WWII is just on the horizon. The author didn’t know this, but when reading it, I almost believed that he did. I think his writing feels as if it is purposefully nostalgic because of this coming upheaval, when really it may be informed by a nostalgic sense of what he thought of when he was in WWI, and what was never quite the same again when he returned. That and the sense the family has that the older children won’t be part of the family vacation for that much longer – in fact this may well be their final such family trip. I don’t know this, of course, but it’s what I imagine. The constant thread of threat and fear that carries through the book, though it’s attached to tiny things like Mrs. Stevens reaction to Clapham Junction or Mary’s sudden fear at being alone at night in a public space inhabited by unknown men, does echo the coming, much larger threat. This unknown future also lends a wistfulness to this memory in that it will be one of the last times this family gets to experience this kind of holiday, because we know that everything is about to change. Dick’s worries about how his life will unfold are so typical to young people entering adulthood – and yet we know that it almost doesn’t matter what he chooses, as more likely than not, his future will be fighting in a war and will be neither the path his father has set forth nor the one he wants for himself. Even Ernie, the youngest member of the family, who is completely consumed by the childish concerns of wanting to bring his toy boat with them and wondering about the sweets his father’s work colleague sells are tinged with this bittersweet knowledge that he, too, will likely face a future of war. Even the women’s concerns are underscored by these much larger challenges they will have to face, and how small these concerns are going to seem when looked back at from that shadowed future.

As you can see, there are so many layers to this book, particularly reading it as a modern reader with all the benefit of knowing the likely futures of these characters. I soaked up the tiny details that evoked the quotidian lives of typical, British, suburban families at this time. Some of the details felt like they could just as easily be applied to many small communities these days – the neighbours who peer out of windows at one another, the pride in a well-kempt home and backyard, the dissatisfaction with a job that has stalled out, the difficulty in finding a path for oneself as a young adult, the way in which a vacation allows for mental relaxation, and how that can sometimes let your mind work through seemingly impossible problems. But similarly, many were specific to this place and time. All of these elements are expertly done, and made this book a fascinating read. I think that it’s well worth spending some time with, particularly if you yearn for a book that will simplify life and take you away from the difficult things that it seems we are surrounded by these days. The fact that it existed in this space between the two world wars lends it an eye-of-the-storm feeling that makes it all the more precious in its insulation and routine. It would make an excellent book club pick, as it has so many themes and interpretations to explore. I’m very glad to have been introduced to this book, and definitely look forward to exploring more of Persephone Books’ classics.

The Fortnight in September embodies the kind of mundane normality the men in the dug-out longed for – domestic life at 22 Corunna Road in Dulwich, the train journey via Clapham Junction to the south coast, the two weeks living in lodgings and going to the beach every day. The family’s only regret is leaving their garden where, we can imagine, because it is September the dahlias are at their fiery best: as they flash past in the train they get a glimpse of their back garden, where ‘a shaft of sunlight fell through the side passage and lit up the clump of white asters by the apple tree.’ This was what the First World War soldiers longed for; this, he imagined, was what he was fighting for and would return to (as in fact Sherriff did).

He had had the idea for his novel at Bognor Regis: watching the crowds go by, and wondering what their lives were like at home, he ‘began to feel the itch to take one of those families at random and build up an imaginary story of their annual holiday by the sea…I wanted to write about simple, uncomplicated people doing normal things.’ – Goodreads

Book Title: The Fortnight in September
Author: R.C. Sherriff
Series: No
Edition: Paperback
Published By: Persephone Books
Released: January 1, 2006 (first published September 1, 1931)
Genre: Fiction, Historic, England, Interwar Years, 1930s, Family Life
Pages: 326
Date Read: March ?-?, 2024
Rating: 7.5/10
Average Goodreads Rating: 3.98/5 (4,665 ratings)