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Trained originally as an industrial psychologist, in which capacity he helped Rowntree’s to successfully launch Black Magic chocolates in 1933, Nigel Balchin first received critical acclaim as a novelist during the Second World War when he wrote Darkness Falls From the Air. It was the first of three evocative novels (including the smash-hit The Small Back Room) that made good use of his wartime employment experiences at the Ministry of Food and later in the army. This trio was followed by a stream of other fine novels, such as A Sort of Traitors, Sundry Creditors and The Fall of the Sparrow. Balchin diversified into film scriptwriting after the war, winning a BAFTA for his work on The Man Who Never Was and penning what he whimsically described as “the first folio edition of Cleopatra”, being his original (unused) script for the Richard Burton/Elizabeth Taylor epic. When Balchin died in 1970, at the age of 61, the Guardian anointed him “the novelist of men at work”, a fitting epithet for one of the best fiction writers of the twentieth century.
I am frightened, but not as much as I was. I did have a drink last night but only one. Good-bye pet. Sammy.
Like a British WWII Hurt Locker, Nigel Balchin tells the tale of a psychologically and emotionally damaged man who puts it all on the line to diffuse a booby trapped bomb left on British shores by Jerry planes and still can't justify his continued existence with himself.
"If I'd been a bit sillier, or a bit more intelligent, or had more guts, or less guts, or had two feet, or no feet, or been almost anything definite, it would have been easy. But as it was I didn't like who I was, and couldn't be what I liked, and it would always be like that."
Balchin's protagonist, Sammy Rice, is not your typical hero, he's fallible and filled with self loathing, he's an educated, considerate man who's loyal and undemanding. He works for an institution who are also painted in the light of fallibility, the British government trying to win a war yet wrapped up in their own historical bureaucracy. The reflection of one in the other is a key part of what makes The Small Back Room the classic of 20th century military writing that it is considered to be.
The master film makers Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger produced a wonderfully honest adaptation, an authentic and tense film of this authentic and tense book, a minor note in careers of much repute that deserves to be seen by more people, but even without the impact of cinema on the canonising of certain undeserving collections of the written word Balchin's Small Back Room would remain deserving of its place in said pantheon, such is the impact of the truth contained within these pages.
Let me say that in Sammy Rice here lived a fictional man, perhaps even comparable to that other great everyman William Stoner, who in his quiet and respectable internal agony of existence, his constant battle to continue living is a representation of me, and you, and everyone we know.
I find myself agreeing with what John Betjeman says, Balchin is a writer of genius, and I shall be investigating him further.
‘A riveting and revealing biography’ – Cathi Unsworth, "First Lady of noir writing" and author of 'Without the Moon'
‘Fascinating’ – Paul Willetts, author of 'Rendezvous at the Russian Tea Rooms'
According to Derek Collett’s Nigel Balchin website...
....Nigel Balchin trained originally as an industrial psychologist, in which capacity he helped Rowntree’s to successfully launch Black Magic chocolates in 1933, Nigel Balchin first received critical acclaim as a novelist during the Second World War when he wrote 'Darkness Falls from the Air'. It was the first of three evocative novels (including the smash-hit 'The Small Back Room') that made good use of his wartime employment experiences at the Ministry of Food and later in the army. This trio was followed by a stream of other fine novels, such as 'A Sort Of Traitors', 'Sundry Creditors' and 'The Fall Of The Sparrow'. Balchin diversified into film scriptwriting after the war, winning a BAFTA for his work on 'The Man Who Never Was' and penning what he whimsically described as “the first folio edition of Cleopatra”, being his original (unused) script for the Richard Burton/Elizabeth Taylor epic. When Balchin died in 1970, at the age of 61, the Guardian anointed him “the novelist of men at work”, a fitting epithet for one of the best fiction writers of the twentieth century.
Sammy Rice, a backroom weapons scientist during WW2, works for a research group that evaluates new weapons. The book is virtually all dialogue-driven and much of it focuses on the minutiae of his public sector workplace. It all rings very true: the office politics, the bureaucracy, the incompatible personalities, the sarcasm, the insecurities etc. and very effectively brings to life the repressed formality and tensions of the era. Indeed, short of actually watching a documentary, it’s hard to imagine a more powerful evocation of a wartime scientific research establishment. If that sounds dull then rest assured it's not. The story gradually becomes more tense, as Sammy Rice’s alcoholism, insecurities and personality flaws become increasingly significant as the shifting sands of organisational change increase his feelings of disillusionment and anger. At the same time Sammy wonders whether he is worthy of Susan, his girlfriend, and a colleague who appears to love and accept him. Meanwhile the Germans have begun to drop a new type of booby-trapped bomb which has blown up adults and children intrigued by them. In a final reckoning, Sammy has to confront his demons whilst trying to defuse one of the deadly booby-trapped bombs.
Less than 200 pages long, 'The Small Back Room’ is a realistic, memorable and ultimately dramatic book which powerfully explores human frailty and workplace dynamics. I look forward to reading more novels by Nigel Balchin and if, like me, you are interested in books set in and around World War 2, then I especially recommend this.
This is a very good book that deserves to be better known, more widely read. First published in 1943, it is still topical in its view of workers vs management, particularly in the light of the coronavirus where our government relies on scientists and "the science". In 1943 Balchin poses the question: do we want to win the war or are we just following procedures? He has created a wonderful cast of people, particularly the narrator whose opening paragraph I will cherish for a long time, and his relationship with Sue. Each of the characters comes to life, is plausible and interesting. And the whole book is written in an amusing way albeit set very much in WWII. So why did I not give it the maximum stars if I praise it so highly? I have thought about it and think that, not being a technical person, a lot of the detail simply washes over me, does not involve me enough. Would love to know what people with technical knowledge make of it all. Recommended.
Nigel Balchin started the war as a psychologist in the personnel section of the War Office before transferring to the Army Council, eventually becoming Deputy Scientific Officer. By the end of the war he’d risen to the rank of Brigadier General. His insider knowledge of how science was being employed to help the war effort gives The Small Back Room an authentic feel. Indeed, I was somewhat surprised that the book had been published during the war given that he paints a fairly negative picture of Whitehall politics, the organisation of the scientific research, and relations between the civilian scientists, the civil service and the army. It’s not difficult to suspect the novel might have been written as a means to highlight how things needed to change. I found the story very engaging. Although told from a first person perspective, the story largely unfolds through dialogue with only a few reflective interludes. The conversations are exceptionally well written and give real insight to the nature of the main characters. And given this style it’s easy to imagine that the book was relatively painless to adapt for the big screen, which it was in 1948. In general, the plot is highly believable and the petty politics and manoeuvrings of personal and inter-departmental rivalries are well done and will be familiar to anybody who works in a university or the civil service. Some of the emotional turmoil is a little overwrought, but otherwise a highly enjoyable read and I’d certainly be interested in watching the film adaptation.
A minor masterpiece this. At times it felt like reading about my own workplace, much of the book is taken up with arguments about non scientists or scientists of different disciplines sticking their respective oars into things they know nothing about but don't let that leave you thinking this is a dull workplace drama. From the two books of Balchin's I have read it seems that he enjoyed showing every little detail in his protagonists life leading up to the crisis point and so we frequently encounter the apparent beginnings of sub plots that then go nowhere or are completely dropped. At first I was a little confused by this but now I think I get it, we are witnessing every moment, no matter how seemingly insignificant or unrelated, that nudges our 'hero' towards his own dramatic ending. It's another of Balchin's habits to happily talk of things well out of the range of many readers knowledge without explaining anything and this too works out just fine. You never find yourself wanting to look things up to make it clear what is going on despite not understanding the technical talk, it's like a little magic trick Balchin plays on the reader, making things they don't understand perfectly clear and logical. Cracking stuff. Just finished rereading this and struck by what a magnificent ending it has.
Nigel Balchin's other great book written of and during WW11 (the other being "Darkness falls from the air"). I love the way he lets dialogue drive his stories. An enjoyable, witty, ultimately tense and thoughtful book.
There’s something ungainly about The Small Back Room, as if it had been bodged together from leftover parts of other novels.
The largest chunk concerns backroom boffins supposedly helping the war effort but actually caught up in dispiriting office politics and interdepartmental wrangling. Possibly this was a revelation in the gung-ho propaganda days of 1943 when the novel was first published, but, since we are all cynics now, it’s pretty much what we’d expect and is – dare I say it – rather tedious. It’s not helped by Balchin’s liking for plain, matter-of-fact dialogue to carry the novel along. It actually feels like a long dull day of office meetings, listening to people wittering.
Fortunately, the protagonist has a sideline in bomb disposal – which not only gets him out of the office but adds a welcome degree of tension. This doesn’t seem to be connected with his back room work and appears to be a small but separate chunk welded onto the novel from a stray short story.
The bomb disposal element does, at least, link to the protagonist’s complex feelings of inadequacy and bitter self-doubt – the most interesting, if under-explored, third chunk of the book – which begin to come together in the closing pages.
I rather felt the closing pages is where the novel might usefully have started. Sadly for me, Nigel Balchin thought otherwise.
Richard Stevens' dramatisation of Nigel Balchin's tense Second World War thriller.
Sammy Rice is called in to try and solve the mystery of a series of unexploded bombs that are being scattered after German air raids. They lie dormant and then inexplicably explode on human contact.
Holland/Brine ...... Paul Jesson Sammy ...... Damian Lewis Tilly ...... Dominc Rowan Waring ...... Nick Rowe Sue ...... Rebecca Saire Mair ...... Christopher Benjamin Stuart ...... Will Keen Joe ...... Stuart Laing Pinker/Strang ...... Sean Baker
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Loved it. It made me want to write about my work and the things that go on and the people who deserve, and don’t deserve, to be where they are.
Added to that it has a level of understatement and charm that make it particularly British and of a time. The way the RAF hero describes how he won his second medal as if he’d tripped over it and the reluctance of Rice, the main character, to put himself forward for a role that he deserves.
Like another reviewer it reminded me of Stonor, another compelling novel about an apparent underachiever in a professional world rewarding those who play the game.
Well this wasn't what I was expecting. I think I was expecting a WW2 spy thriller. I was perplexed as I was waiting for the 'action' to start and then when it seemed to, it didn't. When I settled into it being something different, I started to see something very interesting. It is no surprise that Powell & Pressburger filmed it after the war - I haven't seen it yet. The book has echoes of their Life and Death of Colonel Blimp. While that film, made in 1943, the same time as the book, covers the idea that fighting a war on 19th century principles with a 'straight bat' and a sense of British fair play, The Small Back Room takes apart the nature of the British political and civil service structure, playing by the rules of government structures rather that trying to win the war. What was so scary was the sense of having experienced similar obstacles to success in my own career. Balchin outlines the problems with British management that I thought were recent, but clearly date back to the 1940s. The resonances with modern Britain are strong. One could even read pandemic for war and the story would make the same sense. In the immortal words of a former Prime Minister, "nothing has changed". However, the story is really about the frustrations of Sammy Rice, who has strong beliefs but sees himself as weak and so lurks in the back room doing science until he faces his ultimate challenge in a fantastic finale. Well worth reading and a book that should really be much better known. Balchin is an intriguing writer and not who I thought.
Thanks to Bill Lawrence for his review that prompted me to pick this up. It is an insightful view on the British management style and is as relevant now in the 'war against an invisible enemy' as it was in the midst of WW2, when it was written. In both cases men (and it's still mostly men) jockey for positions of influence little caring what effect their chinnanagins have on the war effort as long as they and their cronies accrue more power. Balchin writes in a modern way describing events mostly through dialogue. So much so that it easy to picture it as a play. This technique has the drawback of putting front and centre the unconscious and casually expressed sexism, racism and gayism prevalent at the time. This is not the first time I've winced when reading a passage in a book written before we all 'woke' up and it would be a sad choice to deny myself of the pleasure of reading old novels because of these lapses. And I could forgive this book anything for the tension of the last twenty pages. This part is a tour-de-force made all the more compelling because the outcome was never clear. As the number of pages remaining become fewer so the need for resolution twists the coil of suspense tighter and tighter. As I closed the book at the end I found myself caressing it's cover while contemplating the ending. No higher accolade.
One of those great little novels that catches you by surprise, I really enjoyed this little bit of escapism by Nigel Balchin, all the more so, as this is his first novel I've read (and i hope to read more some day) ... I enjoyed his style, which i think has echoes of Graham Green about it ... pacy but not rushed, with plenty of details, and suspense when required, but not over done ... of course, it suffers from the malaise of many an author of the period with some references that simply wouldn't pass as acceptable today, but that aside, a thoroughly good read with believable characters, that gives a glimpse to the plucky brits in the backrooms, trying to win the war, in spite of their own fears and insecurities, the politics of competing interests and inter-departmental strife ...
My second Balchin, this one with similar themes around Civil Service politics, but seen this time through the ideas of a more identifiable character. I'm excited to watch the 1949 Powell & Pressburger film adaptation, which from the description looks to be faithful to the novel.
Second World War fiction is not something I usually read, but this was recommended by a friend who was about to re-read it. The setting of scientists in wartime was fascinating, and not something I've thought about before. It's not a long book, and is not a cheerful book for good reasons, but I think it is hopeful in the end, and it certainly provokes thought about how people face horrific challenges in daily life.
This has such a modern and up to date feel given when it was written. It reminds me of The Ipcress File which I re-read at least once a year. This has to be in any 100 Best Novels list.
I can't exactly remember how I heard about The Small Back Room by Nigel Balchin. I imagine it was listed at the back of another book I'd enjoyed and it sounded interesting. Balchin lived from 1908 - 1961 and is noted for his novels written during and after WWII, of which The Small Back Room was one. He also wrote novels under the name of Mark Spade.
The Small Back Room tells the story of Sammy Rice, who because of a crippling disability (which means he has an artificial foot, is unable to be in the British military during WWII and now works as a weapons scientist for a small firm that assists the British government with new ideas for equipment. Sammy is disillusioned with the politics of his work, especially with RB Waring, an advertising executive who keeps inserting himself in their work. Sammy finds Waring always trying to affect the scientific analyses of his team as they try to report on this new equipment.
Sammy lives with Sue, a secretary at the firm and struggles to understand why she should want to be with him, a broken man. Sue is a wonderful woman, who always tries to encourage Sammy and keep him from his more destructive impulses, brought on by his work frustrations and the steady pain of his damaged leg.
Sammy also in involved with situation. He has been called to assist an English military engineer, a bomb specialist. It seems that German aircraft have been dropping booby traps that have killed a number of people. Little information is available as the bombs have been exploded before they are able to get information about them; what they look like, what sets them off, etc. This is an ongoing story line that will be critical to the final action of the story.
It's a fascinating story that mixes the emotional context of Sammy's work and relationships with the technical aspects of this work. It's nice that it doesn't get too lost in the technical part, but presents enough to make that part also interesting. The story moves along at a nice pace and we get an excellent view of the characters and their lives. The last chapters are tense and almost heart stopping. I initially found the ending somewhat unsatisfying, but as I think about it, it's actually not at all. I think the reactions of Sammy as he looks at his life are quite normal and realistic. Excellent little gem of a story. (4 stars)
Odd 1930s like text composed in the '40s: back-office politics in WW2 London, with a disarmingly frank depiction of an insecure, chauvinistic, cowardly and weasel-mouthed man who yet may have some grit to show. Amidst all the political upheaval, job insecurity, immigration and exodus to the front, it is curiously conservative.
Although set in the '40s when, perhaps forced by the mass exodus of men to the war effort, women had more work opportunities, the text has a decidedly 'traditional' feel, where the girlfriend is very much in a supportive, deferential role both in personal life and as secretary.
The interest for me was twofold: the surprisingly engaging office politics with some humor, and the inner struggle of the main character to get beyond his victimhood.
Anyone who has worked in cut-throat academia or IT may find some sympathy for the suffering of office politics in an R&D unit of 'techies' struggling to justify their productive yet unpopular existence in a world of salesmen and Machiavellians. As an IT worker, at least you know if things don't work out, you won't necessarily be sent to a war front, which is some consolation...
Secondly, the main character's struggle to 'man up' and speak plainly despite political pressure, and also in his personal life to acknowledge his girlfriend as a partner and not just a kind of mistress. There is a kind of almost comic struggle both internally and with colleagues and then at home, to take responsibility, take some risks and bear the consequences...
Whilst the girlfriend is certainly given a secondary kind of role, and seems to take a lot more grief than she is allowed to give, yet in some ways she is portrayed as the more grown up and emotionally stable one, and even a kind of 'mother' in the end to her struggling boyfriend.
Parts of the text would certainly grate to today's readers - it is certainly not politically correct, and indeed the treatment of an 'extra', the loose woman from Spain, does approach the prejudices of xenophobia - yet this kind of edge is somewhat refreshing.
The writing itself is excellent and witty. The language is in parts, like the politics, a little dated.
If you can stomach the odd tasteless self-pitying outburst by the boyfriend, followed by nauseating servility and emotional door-matting by the unfortunate girlfriend (is she for real?), this is possibly worth a read for the quality of writing and the banter...
I grabbed this because I thought a story about British military research scientists matching wits with some nasty Nazi booby-trapped bombs sounded interesting -- especially as it was published in 1943, right in the middle of the war. What I didn't realize until I cracked the pages is that the real conflict in the book is the protagonist's with his inner demons (namely alcohol and self-loathing apparently stemming from a chronic foot injury), not to mention bureaucratic infighting of truly dastardly proportions.
The narrator, Sammy, is a civilian scientist working in a tiny, cobbled-together military research unit operating under the leadership of a kind of vague university professor, reporting directly to "the Minister." There is a statistician, a more low-level scientist, a secretary (the narrator's secret girlfriend), and an affably odious advertising executive who is expert in the ju-jitsu of office politics. It becomes quickly clear that there are all manner of departments failing to coordinate among themselves, and the various men in leadership are alternatively clueless or vainglorious. As a satire of bureaucracy, it's quite detailed and savage, without going over the top.
Sammy's inner demons are markedly less interesting, as he struggles to stay away from drink, lashes out at the calm and sensible girlfriend Susan, and generally tries to find meaning in his life. Running in the background of all this are the appearance of some mysterious German booby-traps that have killed a handful of British civilians in the countryside. Sammy has been surreptitiously investigating these with another colleague, but they've been unable to retrieve an intact example to examine. The book climaxes with his attempt to defuse one found on a beach, which becomes a kind of game of Russian roulette with his own damaged psyche.
Note: The book was made into a hard to find Powell/Pressburger film of the same title, but sometimes called "Hour of Glory." Ten years later it was also adapted into an episode of the BBC's "Sunday Night Theater."
Do ‘technical’ novels about science and the world of work get published these days? Nigel Balchin’s The Small Back Room was probably an exception even in it’s time; first published in 1943 and focusing on one of many small government science and technology departments investigating and developing new weapons and explosives, it feels remarkably contemporary in its portrayal of office politics and inept bureaucracy. Sammy Rice is one of the ‘back room boys’ whose contribution to winning the war is constantly frustrated by civil servants, ministers and senior colleagues. At the same time, the Germans have started to drop new booby-trapped bombs that are killing civilians across the country, very often children. In working to discover the technology behind these devices he has to find, dismantle and defuse one; a task that puts his life at immediate risk but provides a personal challenge far removed from the frustrations of everyday departmental work.
Fascinating novel which was changed rather in emphasis when it was filmed in 1949 by Powell and Pressburger. Their film is largely about an alcoholic scientist who must defuse a German booby-trapped device. Although these elements are in the film, Nigel Balchin's novel covers some quite different ground that would be hard to translate into gripping cinema. The book's hero, Sammie Rice, is a physically and emotionally damaged scientist working for a weapons testing establishment, and the book's primary focus is on how petty internal politics and jockeying for personal advancement was hampering the war effort. As the novel was published at the height of the war in 1943 this was a very important and sensitive subject.
There are a couple of instances where language used in the book is objectionable by modern standards, but this is merely reflecting how people of that age and class spoke in the 1940's.
This is one of the Second World War classics. Published in 1943, Nigel Balchin’s creation, Sammy Rice, is a scientist developing and assessing weapons for the Ministry of Defence. A damaged individual with a dislike of confrontation and a problem with alcohol, he faces difficulties at work as dislikes, rivalries and political feuds surface. Nigel Balchin had a background in psychology and Sammy’S personal reactions ring true.
I have seen the 1948 film version several times and there are marked differences between the two media. In the film defusing the bomb takes centre stage. In this book it is a background activity until the end.
A spectacularly dull cover (and title) almost put me off of this fine book. Written during the Second World War, it tells the tale of a disabled and unhappy man who eventually helps to diffuse a bomb. Exciting stuff and entirely fictional, it is well written and delves into the man's inner demons and his troubled relationship with his girlfriend and alcohol. Much more psychological than you would expect from that period, it was a pleasant surprise. In my mind, Nigel Balchin is an unjustly forgotten master.
I read this book 50 years ago and forgotten most of it. Sammy is a scientist who has no confidence in himself except in his job. Realises has to prove himself by doing a life threatening job. This is the worst book I have had from Kindle for punctuation errors and spelling mistakes . Colons instead of commas, full stops in the middle of sentences. This is not acceptable when we pay good money for a book. Proof read them Amazon!
A reread after a long time. Remember this as a riveting bomb disposal story, but turns out it is mostly about War time office/departmental politics. Excellent story nonetheless, although some of the language jarred.
Well written and felt like an accurate portrayal of its time. Some of the language was very dated. I recognised the workplace politics as still relevant today. Themes about people and their insecurities and the frustration of workplace politics. A very different book about wartime.