A Father and his Fate

by Ivy Compton-Burnett

First published in 1957, this novel consists almosts entirely of dialogue. The central figure, Miles Mowbray, is one of Compton-Burnett's most successful characters.

Genres: 20th Century, British Literature, Novels, Fiction

216 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1957

About the author

Dame Ivy Compton-Burnett, DBE was an English novelist, published (in the original hardback editions) as I. Compton-Burnett. She was awarded the 1955 James Tait Black Memorial Prize for her novel Mother and Son.

Reviews

[Fionnuala]

I spent the last five weeks reading five novels by Ivy Compton-Burnett.
It was a period when reading time was in short supply so I needed books that I could read small amounts of every so often yet not feel lost when I picked them up later.
Ivy Compton-Burnett suited perfectly because her books contain no descriptive writing, no meditative passages, in fact very little that is not in dialogue form.
The dialogues don't have many 'he said, she said' tags, and the few non-dialogue lines sound like stage directions so reading these books feels like being at the theatre—there's a small cast of characters, often related to each other, and the action tends to take place in one location, eg., the main character's dining-room or drawing-room.

Compton-Burnett's books are all set among upper middle-class English people in the late nineteenth or early twentieth centuries, a time when such people could live in comfortable seclusion from the problems beyond the walls of their landed properties.
War or unemployment or poverty are never mentioned although two of the characters in Mother and Son (published in 1933) have reduced income and are obliged to become gentlewomen companions. The Middleton family in The Mighty And Their Fall (published in 1961) also face curbing their comfortable lifestyle but are saved by a timely inheritance.
Quite a few 'timely' things occur in Compton-Burnett's novels—wills are lost, letters are found, characters overhear what they shouldn't, secrets get revealed, people thought to be dead turn up—melodrama of every type in other words. As a character in one of the books says, 'What a day it has been! There is material for an epic. The fall of Lavinia; the return of Ransom; the uplift of Ninian; the tragedy of Ransom; the escape of Lavinia; the lament of Selina. I hope there will be no more.'

I don't often read melodrama so how did I manage to read five books full of it?
Well, the first one I picked up, A Father and His Fate (published in 1957), in spite of having an absurd plot, impressed me because of the characters' barbed speech, full of double meanings and innuendos. Reading a single page of such exchanges is a brain workout for the entire day!

'Miss Gibbon is perhaps hardly educated enough for a governess.'
'Well, if she was, she would not be one. That is why governesses are not educated. Sometimes I almost wonder why Mother engaged her.'
'She was suitable for us when we were young. And then she could not be got rid of without being dismissed.'
'Father would not have that. And we should think less of him, if he would.'
'And he does not think education necessary for daughters. He has said he did not intend us for governesses.”
'I am sure any element of dishonesty on Miss Gibbon’s part has been unconscious.'
'Well, dishonesty may be that. It is honesty that never is. I suppose it takes too much effort. It is too unnatural.'
'It is made easy for most of us,' said Audrey. 'But I should yield to temptation.'
'People always do,' said Ursula. 'If they resist it, it is something else.'
'I do not agree,' said Constance. 'I am sure there are many instances of heroic resistance of it.'
'If you are thinking of martyrs, I hardly believe they were tempted. If they had not been martyrs, they would have been nothing. And that tempts no one.'

Some of the lines reminded me of Oscar Wilde's aphorisms mixed with the wittiest bits out of Jane Austen's novels, eg.:
'It is less embarrassing to lose a parent than to gain one.'
Or this:
'Mother is not here to console him for her death. It will be his last grievance against her.
Or again:
'May I congratulate you on a charming speech?'
'I was afraid you were going to congratulate me on my marriage, and opinions differ so much more on speeches. I am sorry for the hint of effort about mine; I had no time to make it spontaneous.'

But underneath all the wit lies a morass of manipulation and hypocrisy unlike anything I've ever found in Wilde or Austen. The family groups Compton-Burnett sets before us are invariably dominated by one tyrannical figure, usually the father, and his children, even when grown up, are as powerless as servants. They defend themselves with the only weapons they possess, their sharp tongues, and often speak in asides to each other which the tyrant figure always manages to overhear. Incidentally, people never fully leave a room in an Ivy Compton-Burnett book, they linger in the doorway on the off chance of hearing something they can pounce on and twist to their own purposes—though they don't always succeed, as in this scene from More Women Than Men (published in 1933):
'And what are you wagging your tongues about so busily? I hope, as the children say, it was not about me, or I shall perforce interrupt your colloquy.'
'I have no respect for people who cannot have their colloquies interrupted,' said Felix. 'We were not talking about you, but of course we might often do so. I should never suggest anything else to a person who thought he was being talked about.'

Visitors to the characters' houses sometimes find such exchanges a bit unusual, as in this scene from A House and Its Head (published in 1935):
'No one can speak in this house without meaning too much.'
'Oh, nonsense. You are not used to meaning anything. And so you are struck by the difference.'

It goes without saying that the 'meaning' of words is one of the things the characters love to pin down. Any casual phrases, such as the one I just used, 'it goes without saying', are challenged—in a constant search for the truth behind what is being said.
'We need not say that our time is yours, it goes without saying.'
'It does not do that. But I will remember it.'
Or
'We are here to prove we are your friends through thick and thin.'
'Which is this?' said Nance
Or
'He said all was fair in love and war. I have always thought it an immoral saying.'
'It means the opposite of what it says. But why say all is unfair in love and war? We all know it.'
Or
'What should we do without our daughter?' said Mr Bode, right that they would do differently.

Truth can even be turned inside out in these books as happens when a bullying husband, after his wife has died, comes to see himself as having been a model one—though the reversal cannot happen without him bullying someone else.
Duncan drew his daughter from the room, and led her to the library. It was an hour before she emerged and followed the others. 'I feel I have lost both my parents. Mother has not vanished more completely than Father. In his stead there is a man, who has been an almost monotonously amiable husband. I dread he will begin to repent of the monotony.'
'Has he been telling you?' said Sibyl.
'I have been telling him. He inclined himself, as you know, to the opposite view. It is fortunate I am not a person who cannot tell a lie. I hardly remember the difference between truth and falsehood; and he is not in any way concerned with it.'
'Poor Father! It is the least we can do for him.'
'It was the most I could do. You don’t know how much virtue has gone out of me. The virtue was Father’s, but I had to produce it.'

Some of the characters, the daughters in particular, reminded me of the people in Nathalie Sarraute's Tropismes, victims as a result of having to live at close quarters to hugely selfish others, becoming diminished at every contact—and eventually as hard-hearted as the people who bully them.
'Is Father all right alone?'
‘Not if appearances are deceitful,’ said Nance. ‘But we do not consider remedying his condition.'

No one ever remedies anyone's condition in Compton-Burnett's books. Characters may marry in the course of the melodramatic plots but there's no hint of real affection in sight. Unrestrained feelings such as love don't feature—everyone is too busy trying to better their own position or else settling for the lesser of two evils. Bleak House might have been a good title for any of the five novels I read—and that reminds me of an apt line to finish on:
'Your grandmother was a great woman. I should like to be Dickens, so that I could be unrestrained about her.'

[Kathy · Rating 2 out of 5]

I wanted to try one of the many novels written by this woman, and this one was available through Kindle Unlimited. Easy choice for me.
Rather interesting view back in time to the more typical Victorian family structure and behavior of its members under the leadership of the patriarch, in this case a rather unpleasant man. Activities are not explored in this examination. Dialogue rules and tells the tale.
More history lesson than story telling.

[Francis Pellow · Rating 1 out of 5]

glad book group didn't take my suggestion to read this next month since i found it impossible to follow and abandoned only a handful of pages in.

[Tim Julian · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ivy Compton-Burnett has a daunting reputation as a novelist for being "difficult", and although I have somehow managed to acquire several of her novels over the decades, till now they have sat, unread and glowering, on my shelves, a testament to my essentially frivolous nature.
Finally I decided to grasp the nettle and downloaded this one. She certainly takes no prisoners. This is an extract from early on, to give you the flavour.

“Ah, you are an upright creature, Ellen,” said Miles, leaning back in his chair. “You would not disguise the truth to exalt yourself. There are few of us of whom that can be said.”
“I hope more than you think, Father,” said Constance.
“Does Uncle mean he is not one of them?” said Malcolm.
“Well, I may not be. I said it was true of few of us. I hardly suppose you are one yourself.”
"I do not care what people think of me.”
“Oh, that is a thing so often said, that it means nothing. I pay no heed to it.”
“I hardly think I care much,” said Ursula.
“Well, you may not, being as you are. What about you, my Constance?”
“I hope I act up to what I should like them to think, Father.”

And that's pretty much how it goes on. A total absence of "authorial voice" means that the reader has to work out what is happening through what is said, or left unsaid. The story involves sudden death, reappearance, engagements made and unmade in the space of a page. Totally unbelievable but that's not really the point. It's all about the verbal cruelties the characters can inflict on each other with no weapons other than (unfailingly polite) words and the place settings at the tea table.
I ended up rather enjoying it, but it certainly won't be to everyone's taste.

[David]

Fairly well on in the text, Miles Mowbray exclaims "Everyone else has been able to be generous and heroic. And I have been ridiculous and pitiful and a sort of spectacle and butt. And doing more al the time than anyone else, and facing more into the bargain!" It is a reasonable description of virtually all Compton-Burnett's 'household tyrants' and is especially notable in this case as it is extremely rare for such a character to be cognizant of their own frequent absurdity. It also shows (in its Trump-like 'nobody more than me' conclusion) that a lesson recognized is not necessarily a lesson learned. This is all characteristic Compton-Burnett stuff, and, as usual, Sahara-funny.

[Peter Burton · Rating 2 out of 5]

I found it very hard going but persisted.It was often hard to follow who was speaking and exactly what was being said.It concerns a very stratified society in which two families interact.It is really a period piece about issues that have completely gone,thank goodness.It was probably witty and confronting 60 years ago but hard to muster much enthusiasm today.A powerful family head is engaged to his adopted heir's fiancé when his wife "dies",causing disruption to the daughters,his heir,his sister in law.Wife has not died and is secretly supported by husband until he decides what to do.He returns to his wife,his intended now marries the heir as planned before,has a baby but decides to leave husband.Heir marries one of the daughters.Who is the real father of the baby?Not very riveting.

[Dave Appleby · Rating 4 out of 5]

A study in domestic tyranny, told almost entirely in dialogue.

It is set in a large house inhabited by a family. Nobody (except the servants) need work, except to administer the household and the estate. They are utterly dependent upon the patriarch whose rule is arbitrary and self-serving. The story is told almost entirely in formal dialogue in which thoughts are spoken aloud.

In other words, this is classic ICB both in its traditionalist content and its modernist form. It requires careful reading: skim over a line and you're likely to need to go back. It feels stilted and yet somehow the characters build themselves and inhabit the reader's mind.

Miles Mowbray, who is more or less the only character to speak in paragraphs rather than single lines, has three adult daughters but an 'entail' (a legal device now mostly defunct) means that it must be inherited by a male; therefore Malcolm, the adult son of Miles's brother, lives with them, learning to administer the estate. There is an unspoken assumption that Miles's daughters will remain (unmarried) in the house and be supported by Malcolm when he inherits. The future of Malcolm's mother and brothers, who live nearby, also depends upon Malcolm's inheritance.

What could go wrong? The plot, more heavily contrived than a Shakespearean comedy, extracts every drop of potential drama and double-dealing from this set-up. Almost every plot twist was foreshadowed with heavy signposting.

Miles is the central monster. He sees himself as the master of the universe, repeatedly using the possessive 'my': my daughters, my wife, my nephew ... He is sexist: when he inadvertently quotes Christina Rossetti he denies it: “Naturally I should not quote a woman. What man would?” (Ch 15) He is bullying and demanding: “You will obey me in the matter. I impose my command upon you. You are one of the women of my family and owe me obedience at its head. And you will not question it.” (Ch 8) He slanders those who would oppose him: “A set of poor, little people without perception or pity!" When it comes to his own behaviour, he finds every excuse for selfishness and is self-pitying: “I think it is time I was spared something. I think it is indeed.” (Ch 13). Even when shown up for the man he is, he still refuses to accept any blame: "Oh, I have not so much fault to find with myself.” (Ch 13) He is what King Lear might have become had he refused to give up his Kingdom.

His wife, Ellen, tries to talk reason to him but she is ignored. He has three daughters who act as a sort of chorus commenting upon Miles's behaviour: one is highly critical, one forgiving and one tries to ignore it and get on with her own, hugely restricted life. Malcolm, the heir presumptive, is the main antagonist, sometimes abetted by redundant governess, Miss Gibbon.

There is another Greek chorus in Malcolm's possessive mother, Eliza, who sweeps in from time to time to comment upon the situation, followed by her sons Rudolf and Nigel who do a comedy double-act of acerbic asides. Eliza, is another domestic tyrant only limited by her lack of any real power. As Miles seeks to command even the thoughts of hius daughters, Eliza thinks she can speak for Malcolm, her son: “He would like his mother to be next to him ... We are not used to being separated.” (Ch 4) She insists on being told the little asides, like a teacher insisting on a note being read aloud after it has been furtively passed around the class. Malcolm resents being constantly belittled and often defies her. He is rude about her: “No one who thinks she is a goddess, can be happy ... she must always be finding that people do not agree.” (Ch 4) Ursula agrees: “I grant her superhuman qualities. Her self-esteem and insistence on support for it are above the human scale.” (Ch 4) But if those living in Miles’s household can see Eliza as a bit of a nuisance, she has destroyed the lives of her other sons, Rudolf and Nigel, turning them into non-entities. And when it comes down to it, Eliza's self-satisfied tyranny is a shadowy imitation of Miles's.

There is plenty of humour. ICB likes to question conversational cliches. For example, when Eliza is described as 'good at heart', Audrey responds: “How I should like to meet someone who was bad at heart!” (Ch 4)

[Cosmopolis]

Brilliant novel

Caustic, hilarious, occasionally tragic. Another virtuosic performance by this consistently great author. This one is more compact than some of her others but just as satisfying.

[Bill FromPA]

Previous: Mother and Son
Next: A Heritage and Its History

[Frank]

I can't finish this, I can't get into it. I remember liking Compton-Burnetts strange humor and her stylized dialogues, but not this time around.

[Dapsax]

I read about a page of this and saw that it was all dialogue. The copy is a library book and someone had written on the title page "Tedious", not sure if this unduly influenced me. Probably.