At first, The Slaves of Solitude by Patrick Hamilton (below) does not appear to be a novel about war. Appearances notwithstanding, it is a novel about WW2 but the war is revealed from a different perspective. The year is 1943, but there are no descriptions of combat, of troop movements, or of battles. Nonetheless, for the inhabitants of Thames Lockton (based, apparently, on Henley) "...conditions were those of intense war, intense winter and intense black-out in the month of December."
The novel begins with the London train arriving in Thames Lockton "...up against buffers...and it hissed furiously. That hiss, in the blackness of the station, might have been the sound of the crouching monster's last, exhausted, people-expelling breath in this riverside outpost of its daily influence...or it might, tonight, merely have been the engine hissing through its teeth against the cold." And the passengers were, "... a small army of home-seekers, in full attack, rushing towards the dim black-out light - like moonlight gone bad - above the ticket collector."
"Moonlight gone bad" - I like that.
For the occupants of the boarding house "Rosamund Tea Rooms" the war means blackouts, rationing, shortages, newsreels, propaganda and many other minor inconveniences and it is a reminder, if we need reminding, that suffering is relative. Terrible things were going on in Europe, (e.g. concentration camps, Stalingrad) but for the inhabitants of our guest house on the Thames, events in Europe are so far away that they are difficult to engage with. War and its sufferings were restricted to their immediate environment and to the here and now. Furthermore, the people did not know, as we now know, that 1943 was a turning point in he war, that 1944 would see an invasion of Europe and that war would end in May 1945.
Hamilton is not a name known to many readers today. Although his work was acclaimed in his lifetime, he was virtually forgotten by the 1960s, his writing thrown into the shadows, perhaps, by others, for example: Graham Greene and Evelyn Waugh. Perhaps the reason for his relative obscurity is that he likes to break the rules. He changes the narrative point of view several times in this book and he does not refrain from making authorial intrusion when he thinks it appropriate. Further, the book does not fit easily
into any other literary style or movement. To me, the book seemed entirely original.
Hamilton refers to his main character as Miss Roach. Although this formality creates an emotional distance between the reader and the character, it adds weight to her solitude and helps the reader better understand the title of the book. Miss Roach is, after all, a slave to her solitude. And so, perhaps, was Hamilton himself. He had followed in his father's footsteps and become an alcoholic. He died of this at the age of 58 in 1962. The theme of fathers and sons has always interested me and it is one theme, amongst others, in my novel, Feeling the Distance.
Hamilton ends his own novel on an upbeat note and with a reminder to us, if needed, that this is essentially a novel about how war is experienced by those living through it. Miss Roach is in Claridge's and decides to take a bath.
"Then Miss Roach, knowing nothing of the future, knowing nothing of the February blitz shortly to descend on London, knowing nothing of flying bombs, knowing nothing of rockets, of Normandy, of Arnhem, of the Ardennes bulge, of Berlin, of the Atom Bomb, knowing nothing and caring very little, got into her bath and lingered in it a long while."
And just before she goes to sleep she whispers to herself:
"God help us, God help all of us, every one, all of us."
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