Small Island, by Andrea Levy
I
too recall pictures of the British Monarch hanging on the front wall of every
classroom of my youth. She was ‘our’
Queen, yet she lived in a different country.
I was lucky indeed that our Catholic teachers (read Irish) weren’t
overly inclined to indoctrinate us with a strong allegiance to that queen. They left her to hang rather primly on the
wall, eyesbrows slightly raised, looking down on us, not exactly warmly.
Not
so lucky were the main characters in Small
Island, Hortense and Gilbert.
Growing up in Jamaica before the Second World War, they were well
indoctrinated in their filial duties to the “Mother Country”. Not only was the monarchy and Britain
glorified in the classroom, the children believed the country was truly their
mother in their hearts. They pictured
England as a land of milk and honey where they would be embraced and lavished
with opportunities unavailable to them in their small island of Jamaica.
Because
of the war, Gilbert makes his way as a soldier to Britain before Hortense, and when
he gets to that war ravaged country, he considers this: “Let me ask you to
imagine this. Living far from you is a
beloved relation whom you have never met.
Yet this relation is so dear a kin she is known as Mother. Your own mummy talks of Mother all the
time. ‘Oh, Mother is a beautiful woman—refined,
mannerly and cultured.’ Your daddly
tells you, ‘Mother thinks of you as her children; like the Lord above she takes
care of you from afar.’ There are many
valorous stories told of her, which enthral grown men as well as children. Her photographs are cherished, pinned in your
own family album to be admired over and over.
Your finest, your best, everything you have that is worthy is sent to
Mother as gifts… Then one day you hear
Mother calling—she is troubled, she need your help…
The
filthy tramp that eventually greets you is she.
Ragged, old and dusty as the long dead… She offers you no comfort after
her journey. No smile. No welcome.
Yet she looks down at you through lordly eyes and says, ‘Who the bloody
hell are you?’”
Hortense
also goes to Britain assuming that she is bettering her life. When she arrives after the war, she is
horrified by the squalor and poverty.
She is astonished that instead of finding Britain grand, it is cold,
colourless and stark. Over and over she
hears that England has been at war, that
it wasn’t always this bleak. But she
looks at the drab colours chosen by the British citizens, and the glum
expressions on their faces, and wonders where the sun has gone.
Even
worse than the culture shock, the prevailing racial superiority that exists
stuns both Gilbert and Hortense. Back at
home, both had come from somewhat privilidged backgrounds, and believed
themselves to be superior to many. In
Britain Hortense learns that her education is not credited, and she must start
from scratch if she is to work again as a teacher. Gilbert had hopes to become a lawyer, but is
shunted into chauffering positions instead, while less educated but white servicemen
are enrolled in university classes and given the opportunities that Gilbert had
been promised.
Gilbert
and Hortense are among the first wave of immigrants to establish themselves in
Britain, in the aftermath of the war. It’s strange to think now that Britain had once
been so cloistered, so shocked by dark skin and musical accents.
An
early passage in this novel hooked me for good.
This is where Gilbert ponders British food: “I was not ready, I was not trained to eat
food that was prepared in a pan of boiling water, the sole purpose of which was
to rid it of taste and texture…I thought it would be combat that would make me
regret having volunteered, not boiled-up potatoes, boiled-up vegetables—grey and
limp on the plate like they had been eaten once before. Why the English come to cook everything by
this method?”
If
you’ve ever been a ‘Colonial’, if you've ever wanted to emmigrate to the 'mother land', or you frequently find yourself astonished when
meeting Anglophiles, this book is for you.
As far as literature therapy goes, I suppose it could remind you that
attitudes do change, and the world is bigger than it may have once seemed.
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