Wednesday, June 5, 2019

Mist in the Tagus by Tom Hopkinson (1946)

Positioned as it is just after the war, this straddles some really interesting territory. It is the story of a young dissatisfied woman in 1939, who has left her stultifying and slightly blank family, changed her name, moved to Northampton, and is fending for herself. Caroline (formerly Hazel) works in an advertising agency and isn't finding life enormously satisfying, but anything would be better than her grim and dull family. Having a few adventures in relationships has been part of the journey, and now, off the back of the end of one of them, and approaching the time for a holiday, she decides to avoid all the offered jaunts of her workmates and set off somewhere on her own. She focuses in on Portugal, and in particular on Marinha, a coastal town somewhere in the estuary region of the Tagus. There she meets a typically 30s pan-European group of 'bohemians' - among whom lives a lionised gay German poet, Leo, who is away in Estoril at the time. This group fascinates Caroline: Maxim, a dapper Italian waster; Helene, a fashion-obsessed, socially haughty French worryer; Paul, a slightly camp, slightly egotistical English bitch; Bettina, a Carrington-like, insightful and emotionally-aware German free-thinker, and Robert, another intense worryer, who is a German doctor and Leo's partner. Alongside discovering Marinha's cliffs with their little chapel balanced on top, a local castle-fortification, the hot market and town, the incredible gado musicians, the sectioned beach with tourists at one end and almost indigent local fishing families at the other, Caroline gets swept away by a rip and rescued by Robert. This first focuses her attention on him particularly. True to the times, his relationship with Leo is understood but only glancingly referred to, and it feels clear to Caroline that he is 'fluid' in his interests. As she gets to know him, she can feel herself falling for him. It is revealed that Leo is away because it has been felt that he should absent himself for a while. This aspect is where this novel reveals its age a little - he has apparently enjoyed the company of one of the young fisher-lads, and this has been very much frowned upon by the local people. What Hopkinson doesn't make clear is how old this young chap is and anything of the circumstances, but there is a strong feeling of taboo surrounding it. Whether this is more of a typically 40s homosexuality taboo, or one associated with pederasty is not clear, but it tends to the latter. With Leo away, Caroline is able to intensely interact with Robert and they grow close. Bettina encourages her to at least try to connect with him, because she feels that his and Leo's relationship may not be good for him. Backgrounding all of this is the feeling of Europe in 1939. Leo and Robert, being German and definitely non-Nazi in sympathies, are needing to find some way to get to relative safety. But the fact that Leo's misdemeanor has been reported to police may make that very difficult. Paul is attempting to gird himself and get into the diplomatic service, and it is possible that he may be able to help them get to England, but only without a police record. Bettina thinks that perhaps her convenient relationship with a local police chief, Quinta, may be useful in getting Leo's record quashed. All of these options are live and swirling at the time of Caroline's visit. In the end, with the end of her stay looming, Caroline and Robert come to grips and spend the night together. But at the end of it, she is devastated to see Robert's attention slip away to the clock and the possibility of Leo's return by the daily bus, and realises that what she wants is not going to happen; Robert is ultimately completely attached to Leo. The distinguishing features of this novel are its emotional maturity - Caroline is aware and broadly realistic about the chances she is taking; its modernity of theme and telling - it is an extraordinarily early example of what became grist to the mill of modernity as the next 20 years passed; and the singularity of Hopkinson creating a very capable and independent modern female lead character who anticipates many who came later. Hopkinson is the least of figures on the postwar literary stage, but by the evidence of this, this lowly position is not at all deserved. It is also an object lesson in not despatching a novel to the bin because its first chapter doesn't hit the spot - this one's is a bit lame, but it makes up for the lapse later most resolutely.

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