I wanted to reread Bassett after I finished it. Truly. I'm not sure that feeling has left me.
This is not Bassett. And, it is also kind of extraordinary. And weird. Stella Gibbons is responsible for making me read a book that is largely (but not entirely) about a woman possessed by an evil spirit. That is a surprising sentence. I'm not the type that goes for books that concern themselves with exorcising (is that how you spell that?) demons. I might have to revise this sentiment. I kept reading. And, really, I admit I could not stop. Sometimes I felt myself reeling in a book that deals with theological concerns (and also demonic ones) and ordinary affairs-- dogs and dog fights (an absurdly comic one reminiscent of a hilarious scene in Bassett involving an animal in the wild I will not give away), a bad landlord who it turns out gets knocked out by the vicar (well not knocked out just punched and sent to the ground--he boxed at Cambridge) and who is not really bad at all, a strange old man, Mr. Fisher, who goes about selling dolls and changing his name (and whose life work is nothing short of a miracle in the book, a complete surprise and rather beautiful), making tea and relationships gone wrong and sometimes right?, ordinary gossip, and then murder (and a quite shocking, unsettling scene--well this scene and another which is quite terrible) and the ever-present sense of the aftermath of war, of the intrusion of the city and what Frost called "the highway dust over all" or something like that, the way in which London and in particular Hampstead Heath, where much of the book takes place, is changing and has changed....
But, Starlight, which reads with laughs (even if the book is more tragic or "darker" than her other work I've read, very much so) and a "can't put downness," an almost ordinary story, actually integrates these seemingly disparate things. There is a way in which the book seems to want to deal with evil in all its forms--the kind that possesses a person literally and also figuratively, that does not allow one to see what Gibbons seems to suggest is "starlight," or the old cliche of the bright side of things--how these things can take a person over and do not allow one "simple ordinary enjoyment" (a Gibbons phrase). That starlight lives alongside suffering. And, it is real too. Here, in the "guise" of this medium who needs an exorcism, where we might find ourselves laughing at the whole thing, I for one felt Gibbons's compassion for her. And felt it myself. She is given a kind of importance. Or, we are asked to take her seriously. I felt that her exorcism might suggest a larger, cultural need for an "exorcism" after the war (while at once the mundane ones are needed too--and here I am not (strangely) referring to the medium but to the other ordinary pain treated in the book--relationship woes, friendship woes, rent and so on). After the war, she suggests, those things that possess us, body and soul, need the real good too. It is not enough to bear witness to only the horror, but important, too, to see and acknowledge the good (an event at the end of the book will certainly test your powers to do this--actually a few events). Mr. Fisher's life work will leave you astonished and moved. Or, it did me. Its utter romantic relevance and real-worldness, its strange or surprising practicality alongside the mystical felt like a key going into a lock which turned the book into a thing of wholeness. This is a book that wants the romantic alongside the real, wants to suggest there are not separate genres for that, just as there are not in a life lived.
The vicar, Mr. Fisher, the vicar's mother.... The old British who hold onto the good in this book with an almost stern (and perhaps stereotypical old British) quality, a kind of decisive squareness are both ! and often full of wit and humor. The new curate in his comic mistakes and prayers for help and in his transformation feels altogether true. There is enough starlight here (and in Gladys and Annie!) to make any reader revisit the old cliche and hope to make it new or see it real. I think so. But, as I said, you will be tested in this, in seeing real good alongside its opposite, at not giving way to despair, at carrying on.