“I told Helen my story and she went home and cried.” So begins Our Spoons Came from Woolworths. But Barbara Comyns’s beguiling novel is far from tragic, despite the harrowing ordeals its heroine endures.
Sophia is twenty-one and naïve when she marries fellow artist Charles. She seems hardly fonder of her husband than she is of her pet newt; she can’t keep house (everything she cooks tastes of soap); and she mistakes morning sickness for the aftereffects of a bad batch of strawberries. England is in the middle of the Great Depression, and the money Sophia makes from the occasional modeling gig doesn’t make up for her husband’s indifference to paying the rent. Predictably, the marriage falters; not so predictably, Sophia’s artlessness will be the very thing that turns her life around.
Barbara Comyns was educated mainly by governesses until she went to art schools in Stratford-upon-Avon and London. Her father was a semi-retired managing director of a Midland chemical firm. She was one of six children and they lived in a house on the banks of the Avon in Warwickshire. She started writing fiction at the age of ten and her first novel, Sisters by a River, was published in 1947. She also worked in an advertising agency, a typewriting bureau, dealt in old cars and antique furniture, bred poodles, converted and let flats, and exhibited pictures in The London Group. She first married in 1931, to an artist, and for the second time in 1945. With her second husband she lived in Spain for eighteen years.
Two young people who are reasonably content on their own decide to create a life of misery for themselves and others by joining forces. It happens every day. Is this a matter of stupidity, wilful ignorance, a lack of imagination, or species-wide psychic disorder?
In Our Spoons, a naive, hapless, probably slightly retarded (but solvent) 17 year old girls gets married to a witless, unemployed, somewhat passive-aggressive (but reasonably well-fed) artist in Depression-era London. What possibly could go wrong?
Well for starters, of course, the merger creates a medical burden. She finds that thinking very hard about not getting pregnant is an inadequate form of contraception. He finds the facts of life a complete and unwelcome surprise, and considers the pregnancy a betrayal. The net level of misery in the world’s population has been increased substantially.
To call her experience of childbirth medieval would be an affront to primitive medical practice. Her labour and delivery are part of an industrialised process as impersonal as it is humiliating. The real function of this process obviously is to encourage those who were forced to participate in it not to have any further need for it. This warning about expanding the world’s population of the miserable will undoubtedly be ignored.
Grinding poverty does just that: grind whatever unique personality there might be into uniform fragments of various needs. His need is to remove himself from responsibility. Her need is to protect her child from his irresponsibility. He lives on denial; she on hope; the child on almost nothing. Misery expands outward from its epicentre to make any number of family and social relationships untenable. It moves like a disease vector throughout a large population with no immunity.
But poverty is not the most lethal source of misery. It only seems that way to those trapped within it. There’s the botched abortion and the doomed affair with an older man, and the estrangement between mother and child, and yet another pregnancy, father uncertain. None of these things are driven by poverty but by self-delusion.
The self-delusion also suggests a number of obvious but futile solutions - a change of air, a new flat, running away with the children. Meanwhile the gas gets cut off, then the telephone, then the electricity. But even these events don’t suggest to her that reality is other than what’s perceived. The death of an infant child from exposure does raise a glimmer of recognition that perhaps not all one’s life-decisions have been life-affirming.
And despite all this experience, she starts it all over again in middle age. Nought stranger than folk.
By the way is it Woolworths or Woolworth’s? I can argue both ways and am confused... as usual.
Titles like this are positively enticing to a book nerd like me! It went straight to my list a few years ago for that reason alone. Three years later I bought the NYRB edition which I love. Now here I am another four years later with the book finally read. In any case, I’ve fond memories of my own local Woolworths. You see, Grandma used to give us some spending money in August so that we could buy new clothes for the start of the school year. She would sit patiently on a bench inside the local mall while my sister and I did a bit of shopping. Then she would treat us to lunch at the Woolworths lunch counter. Afterwards, we would browse the beauty aisle of the store and choose a shiny new lip gloss or maybe a sparkling nail polish. Nothing too garish or mom wouldn’t allow us to actually use it. Grandma didn’t care though – spoiling her grandchildren was her biggest joy in life!
The similarities between my own life and that of Sophia, the main character and narrator of Comyns’ novel, pretty much end with the trait of naiveté, however. The setting is 1930s London. Sophia and Charles fall in love and marry at the age of twenty-one. Life seems just swell as it often does for the newly married. What could go wrong? Well, more mature souls might ask, what could possibly go right in the middle of the Depression when a young couple marries rather hastily?! Did I mention that Charles is an artist? And that he detests the domestic life? He’d rather paint and spend the meager money his wife makes on gatherings with his friends than on paying the heating bill. We get a hint that not everything will turn out the way young Sophia hopes right from the start.
“We had a proper tea-set from Waring and Gillow, and a lot of blue plates from Woolworths; our cooking things came from there, too. I had hoped they would give us a set of real silver teaspoons when we bought the wedding-ring, but the jeweler we went to wouldn’t, so our spoons came from Woolworths, too.”
The tone of the novel is actually rather light considering the subject matter. Told from Sophia’s point of view, the prose is often simple. Lying beneath the surface, however, is something much darker. There is extreme poverty, the humiliation of childbirth in a public hospital setting, and the talk of grave risks and costs surrounding the practice of abortion. Charles refuses to take any responsibility for the poor circumstances in which they eventually land. It’s the childlike Sophia that carries the burden.
“I had begun to think it was a disgraceful wicked thing to do – to have a baby… People would never dream of doing such a thing to an animal. I think the ideal way to have a baby would be in a dark, quiet room, all alone and not hurried.”
I’m not going to say much more about this novel. I think if it interests you at all, give it a try. There’s nothing new here, though the timing of my reading combined with the recent developments concerning women’s rights in the U.S. made it seem more relevant than I could ever have imagined. Suddenly, the 1930s don’t seem to be so very far in the past. I can only hope that young women today don’t find themselves in Sophia’s shoes. Her limited choices were scary prospects indeed, but not that many people would really give a damn when it comes down to it.
“I know this will never be a real book that business men in trains will read, the kind of business men that wear stiff hats with curly brims and little breathing holes let in the side.”
On page forty of this novel, the narrator says: This book does not seem to be growing very large although I have got to Chapter Nine. I think this is partly because there isn't any conversation. I sat up and paid attention when I read that — I'd been skim reading Sophia's prattling narrative up until then. She went on to add: I could just fill pages like this: 'I'm sure it is true,' said Phyllis. 'I cannot agree with you,' answered Nigel. 'Oh, but I know I am right,' she replied. 'I beg to differ,' said Nigel sternly. Great, I thought. The narrator has introduced two new characters to comment on how her story is being written — I love when a writer creates a situation like that. But then I read what followed: That is the kind of stuff that appears in real people's books. I know this will never be a real book that business men in trains will read, the kind of business men that wear stiff hats with curly brims and little breathing holes let in the side. I wish I knew words. Also I wish so much I had learnt my lessons at school. I never did and have found it such a disadvantage ever since. So Phyllis and Nigel hadn't been discussing whether the novel should have more dialogue in it. They hadn't been discussing the novel at all, and they had no significance apart from offering Sophia a chance to regret that her account of her life would never be good enough for business men to read (though I think she is mistaken about the quality of business men's reading choices (and why would she want to be read by businessmen in the first place?)).
I read on despite Phyllis and Nigel's disappointing interruption. By Chapter Nine, in any case, I'd grown used to Sophia's naive voice, and her doubt about her writerly abilities was endearing in a way, especially as I began to realize that her situation and experiences mirrored the author's own, and that she was simply a slightly older version of the child narrator of the autobiographical Sisters By a River.
………………….………………………………
One of the things I love about Barbara Comyns' books is the way the titles are like stories in themselves. Take Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead, for example. Seven words that say so much. Before I read it, I imagined it would refer to the destruction wrought by WWI. Even after I'd read it and realised that war is never mentioned, though the story is set in the second decade of the twentieth century and tells of a biblical-type tragedy hitting an English village, I still thought it might be an allegory of what war does to a community (but perhaps I read too much into Barbara Comyns' titles).
The Skin Chairs is another example of a great title. It evokes very strange images, and there are indeed a few strange scenes inside the book to match the atmosphere conjured by the title. But perhaps the book that best demonstrates the notion of a story encapsulated in the words of a title is Our Spoons came from Woolworths, especially as it is set in London in the late 1920s when most people, rich or poor, owned cutlery that had been passed on from parents to their children and so had no need to buy any. When you are aware of that, the five words in the title speak volumes, or at least one volume of approximately 200 pages. The word 'Our' told me of a family unit; 'spoons' being mentioned rather than 'cutlery' made me think of a young and naive narrator; the reference to 'Woolworths', a dime store recently imported from the US, implied very reduced circumstances. And there you have it: this book is indeed the story of a very naive young couple, cut off from family and living in dire poverty.
But for all her naivety, Sophia survives those very tough times, and she makes some interesting points as she tells us her story. Without spelling it out, she reveals the contrast between the unhelpful extended family and the kindness of strangers: philanthropists, doctors, and particularly, a milkman who continues to leave milk on the doorstep though his bill is never paid. She also reveals the contrast in thinking between her twenty-one year-old husband and herself about the attachment babies are capable of feeling. He wants to give their babies away to anyone who will take them, she wants to keep them close no matter the poverty they must live in. And although she continually allows herself to be governed by the men in her life (she drifts into an affair at one point, hoping an older lover might provide a home for her and her two children), she depicts men as very spineless creatures who have no stamina when it comes to hardship. In fact the creature with the most stamina in this story is Sophia's pet newt: he survives a lot better than some of the humans.
قاشقهایمان از وولورت خریدیم کتابی ایست از باربارا کامینز ، نویسنده انگلیسی . کتاب او که به زبانی ساده و به طنز نوشته شده ، داستان تلخ و شیرین درباره زندگی پر آشوب یک زن جوان و ازدواجش است .
داستان درباره سوفیا، زن جوان ساده و بیتجربه و ازدواج او با یک هنرمند مبتدی و تازه کار به نام چارلز است . زندگی مشترک آنها با مشکلات مالی، آشفتگی خانگی و مجموعه ای از اشتباهات احمقانه یا حماقت های منحصر به فرد همراه است . اوج این حماقت ها را می توان در چگونگی بچه دار شدن آنها دید . سوفیا که از بارداری سریع خود پس از ازدواج بسیار متعجب است فکر می کند که اگر آدم ذهنش را متمرکز کند و با جدیت تمام با خودش تکرار کند که بچهدار نخواهد شد ، پس حتما بچه دار نخواهد شد .
ازدواج و پیچیدگیهای آن ، فقر و طبقه اجتماعی و مبارزه فقرا برای زنده ماندن ، تاثیر سختی های مالی بر روابط ، سلامت روان و ناامیدی از بهبود شرایط را می توان موضوعات اصلی کتاب دانست . کامینز با صداقتی آمیخته به طنز و به گونه ای آشکار به جزئیات مسائل و مشکلات زندگی زناشویی ، خیانت وفقر پرداخته . گویی او از نشان دادن زشتیهای زندگی واهمهای ندارد . در دل داستان، طنزی تلخ و گزنده وجود دارد که خواننده را هم میخنداند و هم به فکر فرو میبرد. این طنز، به ویژه در توصیف موقعیتهای دشوار و طنزآمیز زندگی روزمره، بسیار برجسته و قوی است. کامینز با زبانی ساده و روان، دنیایی پیچیده را به تصویر کشیده. او از کلمات پیچیده و آرایههای ادبی اغراقآمیز استفاده نکرده و همین سادگی، بر عمق احساسات شخصیتها افزوده است . کامینز کوشیده تضاد شدید میان انتظارات رویایی و رمانتیک پیش از انتظار و تصویر واقعی زندگی پس از ازدواج را نشان دهد . شاید خود عنوان کتاب را هم باید نشاندهنده شروع ساده زندگی این زوج و تضاد شدید بین آرزوهایشان و واقعیت دانست. در پایان قاشقهایما�� از وولورت خریدیم تصویری بیرحمانه از چالشهای ازدواج و مادری در انگلستان را نشان داده. اگرچه این رمان اغلب سیاه و تاریک است، اما با لحظات طنز سیاه و همدلی منحصر به فرد با شخصیتهایش آمیخته شده است.
This is my sixth novel by Comyns and another virago publication. This is the usual weird and wonderful world Comyns creates, although with much less of the magic realism that suffuses some of her novels. This is set around the time of the Great Depression (written in 1950). It is loosely based on Comyns’s marriage to artist John Pemberton which ended in 1935. The novel concerns Sophia, a young and naïve woman of twenty-one with no domestic skills at all. She marries aspiring artist Charles and this is the story of her life with him and the workings of their marriage until its end. That isn’t a spoiler, it’s on the first page of the book as Sophia is looking back. It’s a first person novel and the concerns are those of an everyday life; poverty, children, unemployment loss, falling in and out of love, the nature of happiness and relationships. Comyns usual wry humour is still there, here is a relative giving advice on managing food when poor: “She cleared her throat once or twice, and said something about poor people should eat a lot of herrings, as they were most nutritious, also she had heard poor people eat heaps of sheeps’ heads and she went on to ask if I ever cooked them. I said I would rather be dead than cook or eat a sheep’s head; I’d seen them in butchers’ shops with awful eyes and bits of wool sticking to their skulls. After that helpful hints for the poor were forgotten.” And the mechanics of pregnancy: “I had a kind of idea if you controlled your mind and said ‘I won’t have any babies’ very hard, they most likely wouldn’t come.” Comyns can slip easily into the tragic and horrific very easily: “about my father eating a wasp in the jam when we were having tea in the garden under the trees, and how he swallowed the wasp and it stung him as it went down and he was dead in twenty-four hours.” There is also the horror of the commonplace, the descriptions of giving birth in a public hospital are shocking, more so because they were common to the majority of women: “Besides being very uncomfortable it made me feel dreadfully shamed and exposed. People would not dream of doing such a thing to an animal. I think the ideal way to have a baby would be in a dark, quiet room, all alone and not hurried.” Again Comyns has a perceptive way of analysing relationships and men in particular, here talking about the reaction of her husband Charles to their new born son: “Charles still disliked him, but in spite of this made some drawings of us together, so I hoped eventually he would get used to him. At the moment I felt I had most unreasonably brought some awful animal home, and that I was in disgrace for not taking it back to the shop where it came from.” Comyns has the ability of drawing a certain type of humour from the difficult whilst maintaining the sense of how awful it is. Here Sophia gets a job: “The first day there, I had to walk to work because we had no money in the house. Charles promised he would bring some in time for lunch, but, of course, didn’t, and I was too shy of the other girls to borrow any, so I became rather hungry and when it was time to leave I waited to see if he would come to fetch me, but again he failed me, so I had to walk home, getting more and more hungry on the way, and angry, too. When I arrived home I saw Charles through the uncurtained window. He was sitting reading with a tray of tea-things beside him. He looked so comfortable, I became even more angry, and dashed in like a whirlwind and picked up a chair and hit him with it. He did look startled. It was the first time I had done anything like that, and he was disgusted with me. I was ashamed of myself, too, but felt too tired to apologise, so just went to bed and wished I was dead.” As you can see Comyns is very quotable. The novel was certainly realistic about the lives of women and it is a story of survival and the things many women had to do to get by. Although I felt the ending was a bit of a cop out, I did enjoy this, but then I am already a fan of Comyns. This is an early novel and not her best, although it seems to be the best known.
I love these Virago Modern Classic books. Anytime I see these distinctive green or black spines with beautiful artwork on their covers at book sales, I pick them up without looking at the titles, because I already know how good they'll be. By women authors sometimes long out of print, they are rescued by Virago and brought back into circulation for a new generation. Novels by women, about women, of all ages and walks of life; I haven't read one yet I didn't like.
From a note by the author on the title page: "The only things true in this story are the wedding and Chapters 10, 11 and 12 and the poverty ". Those chapters are about the birth of her first child in a charity hospital, which must have been a godawful place in the 1930's in London. The poverty was because her stupid, childish, selfish husband refused to work to support his family, because he devoted himself to his art. This story has a happy, storybook ending, which we know from the first paragraph, but the journey to get us there is special because of the voice of Sophia, a naive young girl who believes that love is all you need, but comes to find out that's not quite true. She is so funny and eccentric and honest that you want to leap into the pages to save her from herself. This goes back on to my Virago shelf, with its sisters, to maybe be re-read at some future date, but if not, then just to give me satisfaction when I see it sitting there.
I think…actually, I know my impression of this book was affected by my very strong assumption that the book I was reading was another book written by Stella Gibbons (author of ‘Cold Comfort Farm’)…which I loved and gave it 5 stars. I found that book to be so funny! And for a while there was nothing to challenge my assumption. But then things started happening in the novel and well...I’ll write down my notes that I took to give you a feel for what was going through my head at the time… • She (Jim: Sophia, the main protagonist and narrator) only has two relatives. Sad sentence on p. 21 - end of chapter. So far this is v(ery) good. • They were hoping for a miscarriage! • She tells us in chapter 9 that this is a book and she’s in chapter 9. P41 • Wow this is supposed to be funny? P46-7 Charles is an a^^hole.
I finished the book in one sitting because 1) it was a Sunday morning and I had plenty of leisure time and 2) I wanted to get this book in and out of my system ASAP.
So if I had taken a break from this book, maybe say halfway through and thought about it some, I would have realized that my impression that Stella Gibbons wrote this was discombobulated. Rather, Barbara Comyns, who wrote ‘The Vet’s Daughter’ among other books, wrote this. And if I had known that, my reading of the rest of the book would have probably been altered by that factoid. That book was extremely dark, and sad, and this book too is quite dark. I had to cogitate on my review of that book overnight it was so disturbing, but I ended up giving it 3.5 stars because it was written, to my mind, so well. As I said in my review of ‘The Vet’s Daughter’: “…The book is incredibly dark…So that isn’t too bad. It’s just that it is incredibly incredibly dark (I guess I am repeating myself). But that doesn’t mean a book is bad. I guess this is not the sort of reading I would want to regularly immerse myself in…”
So, likewise I am giving this book 3.5 stars, because the writing is damn good. And it held my attention throughout.
There was humor scattered here and there throughout the book. Here is a description of a large woman that Sophia (the main protagonist in this novel) encounters: • He brought a ‘great woman’ with him, who really was a great woman. She was quite six feet tall and very beautiful in a totem-pole kind of way, with huge staring eyes, like head-lamps. I found that funny…in a totem-pole kind of way. 🙃
But even some of the humor is dark: • “I told him…about my father eating a wasp in the jam when we were having tea in the garden under the trees, and how he swallowed the wasp and it stung him as it went down and how he was dead in twenty-four hours…” (Jim: well, I’m not saying that was funny, per se… 😬)
So: if you are in the mood for a dark book that is well-written, I would heartily recommend this book. Conversely, if you have had a bad day and feel a bit low, avoid this book like the coronavirus 😐
Reviews: • This is a review of Barbara Comyn’s oeuvre and her life and I found it to be very good…I would give the piece of writing 5 stars: https://unbound.com/boundless/2019/03... • This is the intro from the New York Review of Books re-issue, so if you get that version, you might want to read the intro afterwards…it was also published in the Paris Review: https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2... • What a bizarre review…it appears to be written by a 14-year old…and it is supposedly under ‘children’s books’. This most definitely is not a children’s book!: https://www.theguardian.com/childrens... • https://www.musicandliterature.org/re... (written by Lauren Goldenberg, Deputy Director of the Dorothy and Lewis B. Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers at The New York Public Library)
For some reason, I’m not feeling much of a review after finishing this, so I’ll point you toward a friend’s review, with which I wholeheartedly agree: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
I’ll just add that, after some reflection, I can only guess that the precipitousness of the ending was how the first-person narrator felt about it—as well as its showing (maybe) that what came before was much more important. I was a bit perplexed and then remembered the first line of the novel: “I told Helen my story and she went home and cried.” She cried about what happened in the middle, not the end.
One of my pet hates (and my followers will know this) is a writer who writes outside their characters sensibilities. For instance, we think we know a character but then the author uses observations, allusions and metaphors beyond that character's thought processes. Thankfully this isn't the case with the very quirky and unconventional Our Spoons Came From Woolworths.
Sophia is a young commercial artist who marries, in haste, an artist called Charles. The novel begins quite simply: "I told Helen my story and she went home and cried." Most of the novel is narrated in this matter of fact way, yet by concentrating on often incongruent details, Comyns brings what must be an early example of magic realism to the book.
"Then the morning came and it was light. There were half-packed suitcases all around my bed. The posters that had disguised the ugly wallpaper were lying about in long white scrolls. Great Warty looked at me from his glass house, so I took him out and let him walk up my arm until he fell in the bed, then I made tunnels out of the bedclothes for him to walk slowly through and he looked prehistoric."
Wonderful!
When Sophia talks about what happens to her as she goes into labour, we realise (as readers in the 21st century), the deplorable state of affairs of maternity wards in the 1930s. She is not only treated with rudeness and an uncaring attitude but she is forced to carry her suitcase from one ward room to another whilst in the early stages of labour. It is not in Sophia's nature to question this and be appalled at the system, nor later to really question her husband's selfish attitude towards her and the children. It's just the way things are. As a reader I couldn't help enjoy Sophia's take on life, especially her sojourn in the country, and applaud Comyns for her originality. Highly recommended!
Read entirely aloud over Skype with Maya while we're on different continents. Probably the slightest of Comyns' novels I've come across yet (but it's just her second). Even so, she has such a perfect yet completely unaffected and conversational turn of phrase that she's always a pleasure. Plus:
Social realism -- the precise details of class and place and social atmosphere in depression-era England are spot-on and create a vivid portrait. She crams the pages with perfect particulars. Right down to the title.
Social surrealism -- and as with Comyns' best works, things can get nonchalantly weird and horrific, blindsiding the reader and then going on as if nothing much had happened.
And through those details, those structural rhythms, Comyns has a kind of social purpose. Not exactly feminist here as the narrator wouldn't have possibly considered things on those terms, but her strength of character, and Comyns', draw attention to subtle, and not-so-subtle, realities and gender politics in a constant undercurrent. Now if only the protagonist had been able to make her own way out of her troubles an not required the neat ending that this reaches, but again, such was likely outside her (the character's, not Comyns') imagination in those times.
در سر مستی تموم کردنش فعلا پنج میدم. سوفیا فرکلاف سرگذشت خودش رو توی دههی سی لندن تعریف میکنه. توی همون فصل اول میگه که چهجوری با چارلز آشنا شده و تصمیم میگیرن پنهانی ازدواج کنن. و اتفاقهای زندگیش رو از بعد اون تعریف میکنه. راوی اول فصل ٩ میگه [نقل به مضمون]: "کتابی که دستتون دارین رمان قطوری نخواهد شد، شاید چون دیالوگی بین شخصیتها اتفاق نمیفته. میتونستم کتاب رو با فلانی دو نقطه گفت، فلانی دو نقطه جواب داد پر کنم. چیزهایی که توی کتابهای واقعی میبینین. ای کاش زباندان بهتری بودم و درسهایم رو بهتر میخوندم. این رو عیب خودم میدونم." توی مقدمهی خانم امیلی گولد میفهمیم که ناشر کتاب اول نویسنده، نه تنها غلطهای املایی کتاب رو ویراستاری نکرده که چاهار تا هم روش گذاشته که به جذابیت نثر ناپخته و سادهی کتاب اضافه کنه. من موقع خوندن فکر نکردم که نثر ناپختهس. بنظرم هوشمندانه و خیلی کار شده بود. نقطهنظر صادقانه و سادهای داره در مقابل اتفاقات و این طنز درخشانی رو میسازه در روایت و موقعیتها. از همینه که خواننده تلخیها رو تاب میاره و ادامه میده. آب و تاب الکی نمیده درعین حال جزئیات پرتصویر و واقعیای از فقر و سختی زندگی اون سالهای لندن داره. سه فصل کتاب دربارهی زایمان توی بیمارستان دولتی هم داره که همونجور که در مقدمه گفته میخکوبکنندهس. خلاصه که چالش دارین اگه با فصل اول همراه شدین بخواین کتاب رو زمین بذارین.
I was quickly drawn into this strange novel. It is narrated by Sophia in her youthful, passive voice. She meets a man called Charles on a train, they are both carrying artists' portfolios, and they soon decide to marry. We are given an insight into the life of 1930's bohemian London and their personal decline into financial despair and poverty. Sophia and Charles marry in haste and live a chaotic and ungrounded life. It is written in a chatty, conversational way as she describes happy and sad events. There is an isolated feel to her words as she struggles to understand her new life. The novel touches on a variety of themes including marriage and love, happiness and fulfilment. It is not as grim as it sounds and there are uplifting, amusing, loving moments too. Sophia gains in experience and grows into a young, optimistic woman. It is a very quirky book written in quite a unique style but I found it an intriguing and gripping one.
اگر خیلی وقته نتونستین کتاب بخونین، خستهاین و حوصلهی کتاب ندارین، این کتاب رو بخونین. انقدر ساده و روون و شیرینه که موقع خوندنش لبخند از لبم نمیرفت. در مورد سوفیا، دختریه که در ۱۷ سالگی با یک پسر ۲۰ سالهی نقاش ازدواج میکنه. زندگی رو در فقر شروع میکنن و بالا پایین زندگی رو تجربه میکنن. من خیلی دوستش داشتم. از خوندنش لذت بردم و دوست دارم تالیفهای دیگهی نویسنده و ترجمههای مترجم رو دنبال کنم. ترجمهی خیلی تمیز و خوبی بود.
داستان از جایی شروع میشه که راوی میگه داستان زندگیش رو برای شخصی به نام هلن تعریف کرده و هلن به خونه رفته و براش گریه کرده، اما حالا هشت سال از اون زمان میگذره و دیگه غمگینم نمیکنه،خواننده متوجه میشه اتفاقی رخ داده که راوی رو حسابی غمگین کرده و بعد ما داستان رو با راوی یعنی همون شخصیت اول زن داستان دنبال میکنیم، با فلش بک به گذشته خواننده متوجه میشه اون اتفاق چی بوده.
من فکر میکنم هر زنی باید این داستان رو بخونه، قرار نیست در داستان با چیز خاصی مواجه بشیم، شخصیت های زیادی قرار نیست به داستان وارد بشن و قرار نیست داستان پر از پیچیدگی باشه. داستان انگار برشی از زندگی هست، درست همونجوری که هست، داستان یک برهه از زندگی راوی، ازدواج کردن و جدا شدن.
اما نوع نگارش در عین سادگی سادگی جذاب هست، جوری که نویسنده از احساسات زنانه صحبت کرده، درگیری با فقر، عشق به همسر، خیانت، زایمان، بچه دار شدن، از دست دادن، احساس اینکه همسرت اون درک کافی رو ازت نداره، خشم و دوباره ساختن.
شوخ طبعی های نویسنده رو دوست داشتم، بعضی از جملات خواننده رو به خنده می اندازه و حتی قسمت هایی مغزت رو منفجر میکنه( اون قسمت که چالرز میخواد پسرش رو به یتیم خونه بفرسته) ، تا حالا با کتابی مواجه نشده بودم که بخش زایمان رو به این خوبی روایت کرده باشه. مترجم کتاب هم توی مقدمه از این موضوع صحبت میکنه.
اما این موضوع خیلی برای من ملموس بود، ناخوادگاه روزی رو که پشت در اتاق عمل خواهرم بودم به یاد میارم، اون ترس و احساس بدی که معمولا پرستارها به آدم ها میدن،من برای چندلحظه به اتاق وارد شدم، خون کف اتاق ها ریخته بود و پرستارها با حالت عصبی و خشکی ایستاده بودن، حتی دیدنش حالم رو بد کرد. میدونم هرکسی اگه حتی یک بار به دکتر زنان مراجعه کرده باشه متوجه میشه از چی صحبت میکنم، از احساس گناه و زشت بودنی که دکترها بهت میدن، نویسنده خیلی عالی از این موضوع صحبت کرده، چند بار میگه که به نظرش بچه دار شدن کار کثیفی بوده یا حداقل این احساسی بوده که بهش منتقل شده. نباید سادگی کتاب رو ، خوب نبودن قلمداد کرد. واقعا خوندنی بود، از اون کتاب ها که دوست داری مدام ورق بزنی و ببینی قصه به کجا می رسه، یه نفس خوندمش، کتابی کم حجم که سه چهار ساعته تموم میشه.
This was a fun read. I got to the half-way point, and was feeling fed-up with her endless simple sentences - they do go on and on. And then - dramatic second half, with a princess-type happy ending. It's not the story or the style, it's the voice that carries this book. I was surprised how much I liked her - Comyns, her unflustered observations on life. Of course she becomes super flustered at certain points, but there is a lot to be said for her general optimism and good cheer - in-spite of the unrelenting poverty of her life with Charles. She herself rightfully designates him a Peter-Pan partner.
The book was first published in 1950, but it refers back to 1930s, London. I read the latest edition from Virago published in 2013, with an introduction by Maggie O'Farrell, that I didn't read, because I am not overly keen on her. I suppose I mention these dates because Comyn's book really allows us to see how control over reproduction was so important for women, to have freedom and independence.
I'll probably go back and re-try A Touch of Mistletoe, which I gave up at the 50% mark due to the weird spelling and the simple sentences. Mistletoe was published in 1967, so a later work, but I think it precedes the time period of Our Spoons, I remember a vaguely Charles-like figure entering the life of one of the girls.
Here is a short passage that demonstrates how little support Sophia receives, when she is pregnant with the second baby:
Charles's family were deeply shocked when they heard about us having another baby. Paul wrote and said he would cancel all future help, but as he had only given us twelve pounds in the last three years, we didn't worry. Eva said I had no consideration for Charles. I must control myself and put a stop to all these babies, and in this case, I felt her remarks were quite justified.
On the copyright page of Our Spoons Came from Woolworths is the italicized comment "The only things that are true in this story are the wedding and Chapters 10, 11 and 12 and the poverty." Despite the disclaimer I suspect many dimensions of this novel are autobiographical. There are some parallels in Sophia Fairclough's story of a bohemian and artistic life between the wars and that of her creator, Barbara Comyns. I believe the poverty, especially, is real; I think of this as a novel about poverty.
It's told in Sophia's voice made infectiously innocent by Comyns. It's the strength of the novel, I think, and what makes this novel an infectious read. And yet some of the choices Sophia make are those of someone not so innocent, someone possessing a sturdy determination and practicality. Even if the story of a young woman's passage to happiness has been told countless times, Comyns makes it interesting. The only quibble I have with it is the almost headlong careening into a storybook ending. I didn't mind the ending itself but thought it needed more development so that it would not be too good to be true. But then I remind myself the ending is not included in the truths Comyns claims for the novel in her famous disavowal on the copyright page.
این رمان نوشته خانم باربارا کامینز، نثری روان و ساده داره که در آن سوفیا فرکلاف داستان زندگیش رو در دهه ۳۰ میلادی در لندن تعریف میکنه، از ازدواج در سن کم با چارلز و تلخی و سختی هایی که در زندگی با فقر با اون ها رو به رو میشه و البته تمام داستان رو با طنزی درخشان چنان توصیف میکنه به طوری که غم انگیز بودن اون ها رو خواننده کمتر احساس می کنه و حتی گاهی لبخندی هم بر روی لبانش میاد.
Published in 1950, Our Spoons Came From Woolworths is told in the first person by Sophia Fairclough, who meets and marries Charles in the beginning of the book. Her winsome, stream of consciousness narrative is misleading - the early part of the book beguiles the reader into thinking that this is a piece of cheery, lively fiction about a young married couple starting their lives. Charles is an artist, with firmly middle class roots; Sophia is parentless, with a couple of rather uncaring siblings. The book is set in the 1930's, during the global depression between the two wars.
That sense of optimism rapidly devolves into something more akin to horror. Sophia conceives, and having never received even the tiniest bit of education about the reproduction process, is surprised. She believed that just wishing to NOT have a baby would work to counteract conception. No one is happy about this baby - they are too young and too poor and no one is willing to see Charles clearly for what he is.
Which is a dead loss as a human being. He, initially, lives off of Sophia, his father having stopped his allowance once he married. Sophia is working at a commercial studio, and is fired once she has to admit she is pregnant. Her sense of pride prevents her from admitting that this is a terrible hardship. Even after she is let go, Charles does nothing to try to contribute the family coffers.
His family is terrible, blaming Sophia both for the pregnancy, as though she managed that on her own, and for interfering with his ability to develop his great artistic talent. Everyone, including Sophia, seems to accept that it is Sophia's responsibility to keep the young couple in food and housing. This is infuriating, because it literally never seems to occur to anyone that a man should not allow his wife and child to starve, especially during a time period which does not allow pregnant women/young mothers of Sophia's class to work.
The chapters that address the birth of Sophia's son, Sandro, are harrowing. Comyns describes the process of labor in a charity hospital in both explicit and horrifying detail. She is dragged from room to room, never told what to expect, and subjected to the most awful indignities, and once the birth is over, her son is removed to the infant room and she doesn't see him for two days.
It actually gets worse from here. Her marriage is a disaster, her husband is a loser, and their extended family is completely blind to the poverty and hunger that she suffers. Through it all, Sophia's voice remains mostly optimistic and always convincing.
This is, more or less, a book about poverty - about how it grinds and about the experience of being completely powerless due to structural inequalities, such as male supremacy and class-based oppression. Reading it pissed me off, I was so angry at everyone: Charles, for being such an irredeemable asshole; Charles's family for being so monstrously uncaring, and, even, Sophia, for not seeming to find her situation as intolerable as I did. She was so captive to her own circumstances that it seemingly never occurred to her that she should've been able to expect more from her husband and family.
There is one briefly satisfying moment when she loses her temper. She has started a new job and has to walk to work because there is no money in the house. Charles promises to bring her some money in time for lunch, but he blows her off. When it comes time to leave
"I waited to see if he would come fetch me, but again he failed me, so I had to walk home, getting more and more hungry on the way, and angry too. When I arrived home, I saw Charles through the uncurtained window. He was sitting reading with a tray of tea-things beside him. He looked so comfortable, I became even more angry, and dashed in like a whirlwind and picked up a chair and hit him with it."
Even then, though, Sophia is made to feel that she is in the wrong. "I was ashamed of myself, too, but felt too tired to apologize, so just went to bed and wished I was dead."
It took me some significant contemplation yesterday to figure out why I had such an emotional response to this book, and it was only after I admitted to myself that I felt a strong sympathy for Sophia based upon a bit of my personal history that it made sense. When I was 21, I married my own Charles - a man who was just fine with living off of me while he attended (and ultimately failed to graduate from) law school, as I worked full-time and went to college to support us.
After I graduated from undergraduate, I applied to and was accepted to law school and left the city where I had done my undergrad. My husband was, originally, supposed to move with me, but he had mucked up his final year in law school badly and had to complete an additional term, so I went alone. Back then, first year law students had to sign a contract that they couldn't work. Our agreement was that he would get a job and send me money for food. I needed that money to eat.
I had a scholarship to cover my tuition, and some of my rent, and I had some savings, but I was wary of running out of money. My entire financial house of cards was built on getting a little bit of money from my husband, a couple of hundred dollars a month, who hadn't worked during our entire marriage, but who was able to work because he only had a couple of classes to finish that term.
He sent me one check. It bounced. I had never experienced hunger before, and like Sophia, I was far too proud to tell anyone how broke I was. In retrospect, that is such an act of callousness that I would have been more than justified in ending the marriage. I didn't. I took a few things that I could scrape together and I pawned them for $50.00 so I could buy some food, and then I began secretly temping for about 10 hours a week to make a little bit of money. I ate nothing but macaroni and cheese for a couple of weeks until my first paycheck came through. No one at the school found out, so I was able to do enough of this to pay for my groceries.
As you can probably imagine at this point in the story, the marriage failed completely about six months later. But reading this book brought it all back - the rage, the helplessness, the sense of confusion, the reality that no one knew that I was married to a child and I was suffering. And I was 24, and it was a completely different time. Women were able to work, and I didn't have children (thank god I didn't have children), but I was still tied to this worthless asshole who didn't care that I was hungry. And I internalized all of this by concluding that, somehow, I was at fault for all of it, and my loyalty to this failure of a person prevented me from asking anyone for help.
I think probably all women have a story like this.
Even with the grim subject matter, though, there is something fresh and appealing about both Sophia and the book that I can't really explain. It was very frustrating to read, and, although Sophia does get a happy ending, Charles did not get run over by an omnibus, nor did he artistically starve to death, which were the two proper endings for him.
So, I do recommend Our Spoons Came From Woolworths, even if it made me want to hit something.
Poignant, funny. More people should read and love this.
Sophia plunges into marriage with the man of her dreams, but poverty (emotional and actual) takes its toll. There is a happy ending and a second chance at love, but the emotional heft comes in the painful disintegration of Sophia's first marriage.
What's special about this book (written in 1950) is that Comyns relates all the truly awful things that happen to the naive heroine with a Brief Encounter style of dry detachment that can, on the one hand, be very amusing - “I had a kind of idea if you controlled your mind and said ‘I won’t have any babies’ very hard, they most likely wouldn’t come.” or Peregrine “listened most intently to every word I said, as if it was very precious...This had never happened to me before, and gave me great confidence in myself, but now I know from experience a lot of men listen like that, and it doesn’t mean a thing; they are most likely thinking up a new way of getting out of paying their income-tax.
But the laconic, almost throw-away, style also works as a contrast to moments of real tragedy. At one point
The happy ending may feel a little manufactured (although it is very satisfying), but, in fact, much of OSCFW is based on Comyns' own disastrous first marriage, and happy second one. So, two happy endings - good.
"Things one dreads usually are: it's only the things we look forward to that go all wrong." "There seemed no point in being good or bad; everything was so dreadful in any case."
At times, sad and pessimistic, and at others, quirky, comical and entertaining, Comyn's 'Spoons' was my introduction to her work. I'm not entirely sure if I appreciated this as much as many have on here due to reading it in small doses on a long flight to and from a very distant location, but as I rated this a '3', I can say that I'm not turned off by her writing and she was (in my opinion) better at story-telling than writing, and that's why I gave it a higher rating than I initially felt.
Not bad, but I didn't always feel like it was worth completing. Something to pass the time.
Not top-shelf Comyns by far, but it had its moments. I was hoping for more laughs and/or absurdity, but alas it only yielded the occasional chuckle and scored rather low on my official Absurdity Appreciation Scale™. It’s actually for the most part quite a dreary tale, the likes of which the conservative U.S. Supreme Court justices who voted to strike down Roe v. Wade—and would furthermore like to restrict the purchase and use of contraception—should routinely be strapped to their chairs and forced to read considering (2.5)
کتاب معمولی بود خیلی در واقع، ازش خیلی تعریف شده بود ولی خیلی دوستش نداشتم.داستان زوج ساده و عاشقی که بدون در نظر گرفتن چیزای دیگه عاشق میشن و ازدواج میکنند بعد زندگی میخوره تو ذقشون.
کتاب خوش خوان و خوبی بود و نشون داد چقدر تصمیمات عجولانه میتونن مثل دومینو بدبیاری بیارن. چیزی که برای من جالب بود، به تصویر کشیدن علت ناموفق بودن اکثر روابط بود. این اتفاق رایجیه که تقریبا توی اکثر روابط اتفاق میفته، روابطی که یک نفر کورکورانه دیگری رو دوست داره. توی این روابط شخص انقدر درگیر دوست داشتن و تشکیل زندگی با شخص موردعلاقشه، که اصلا متوجه نمیشه چقدر اون شخص براش اشتباهه. گاها ما آدم ها دل به شخصی میبندیم و شخصیتی از اون توی ذهن خودمون میسازیم و اون ذهنیت رو میپرستیم؛ درحالی که اون ذهنیت واقعی نیست. سوفیا با چارلز آشنا میشه و توی سن کم با اون ازدواج میکنه، چارلز هیچوقت مسئولیت پذیر نبوده و سوفیا همیشه فکر میکرده چون توی سن کم با چارلز ازدواج کرده، نباید انتظار کار کردن داشته باشه. درصورتی که سوفیا خودش به تنهایی بار کل خانواده رو به دوش میکشیده. ازطرفی تکه هایی از کتاب واقعا من رو خشمگین میکرد، مخصوصا قسمتهایی که مادر چارلز که به سوفیا سرکوفت میزد بخاطر اینکه توی سن کم ازدواج کرده بودن و بهش میگفت نباید از چارلز انتظار کار کردن داشته باشی چون خودت رو به پسرم انداختی! متوجه شدم درطول تاریخ فقط مردان نبودن که باعث خشونت های خانگی میشدن، بلکه خشونت زنان علیه زنان چقدر اتفاق رایجی بوده. درکل خواندن این کتاب برای من لذت بخش بود. اگر دنبال کتابی هستید که کوتاه باشه و راحت پیش بره، این کتاب رو بهتون پیشنهاد میکنم.
At the end of March, I went to a book talk on Virago Modern Classics at the wonderful Daunt Bookshop. Author Maggie O'Farrell championed this particular book and two things that she said about it really stuck with me. First, she said that it had a wonderful sense of place -- the place being London, the bohemian, artsy bit of it, during the Depression of the 1930s. The other thing she emphasised was the voice of the narrator -- distinctive, without any obvious literary influences, like no other. Having read the book now, I would wholly agree with her assessment.
Sophia, narrator and protagonist, is a young girl -- just 21 -- who marries her boyfriend Charles because it seems like a thing to do. Not so much a great love as a rather tepid like. This attitude, in itself, makes the book seem like a period piece. The idea that 21 is an adult age signalling it's time to do adult things! (Or, we've slept together now so we might as well marry.) Sophia and Charles are both fairly well-born but not at all well-to-do. They are babes in the woods: optimistic, dumb, brave and naive. They want to be artists, but unfortunately, neither has any kind of trust fund. Charles, in particular, has artistic ambition that is breathtakingly selfish and unconcerned with the financial facts and emotional responsibilities of life. What follows is an extremely precarious existence made perilous by the immediate arrival of unwanted (particularly on Charles's part) children. There is no particular plan and certainly no safety net because this book depicts a world pre-NHS and social housing and child benefit.
What follows is a mostly downward spiral (into poverty and all sorts of entanglements) with a fairy-tale-ish happy ending somewhat set apart from the main bit of the story. Dramatic events -- for example, a pretty horrific description of giving birth in a charity hospital -- are all described in the characteristic breezy voice of Sophia, and that voice is often at odds with the content of the story. And yet, it is the detached breeziness of the voice that makes the content bearable -- both to the reader, and its subject, I presume. It's a strange, and strangely distinctive, book. Very readable.
اگر فکرتون درگیره و یه مدته کتاب نخوندید و دلتون یه داستان ساده میخواد، این کتاب برای ریدینگ اسلامپ و دور شدن ذهنتون عالیه. داستان کتاب از جایی شروع میشه که راوی میگه "داستانم رو برای یکی از دوستانم تعریف کردم و اون برام گریه کرد" حالا این داستان چیه؟. راوی بیدرنگ سراغ داستان میره و ما یهو میبینیم تو لندن هزار و نهصد و سی گیر کردیم و داریم داستان ازدواج ناگهانی و عجولانه سوفیا رو از نزدیک میبینیم. سیر وقایعی که پشت هم تو کتاب اتفاق میافته بهتون اجازه نمیده کتاب رو رها کنید و حتی ممکنه تو یک روز بخونیدش. کتاب دیالوگ چندانی نداره و درست مثل اینه که زن همسایه نشسته داستان گذشتهش رو براتون تعریف میکنه و شما هم هی برگاتون میریزه که چقدر بدبختی کشیده و کاش اینطور نمیشد و این حرفا. موضوع اصلی کتاب درباره فقره، اینکه بهمون نشون بده زن بودن و فقیر بودن، و همزمان ازدواج با یه مرد بیمسئولیت و نفهم(!) شما رو به کجاها که نمیکشونه و ممکنه چقدر خستگی رو دوشتون بگذاره. متن و داستان کتاب خیلی صادقانه و ساده است و شما با خوندنش میتونید عین سوفیا تمام وقایع رو تجربه کنید و به حالش افسوس بخورید.
در ضمن مطابق چیزهایی که تو برخی از نظرات دیدم، ترجمه کتاب بد نیست. بلکه این شگرد نویسنده و ناشر انگلیسی کتابه که با چند غلط ویرایشی و فنی، نشون بده که راوی ما سواد چندانی نداره و عامیانه داره از قصه زندگیش میگه.
پینوشت و شاید اسپویل: من هم اگر جای نویسنده بودم، آخر کتاب رو اینجوری تموم میکردم چون به نظرم سوفیا چیز زیادی از زندگی نمیخواست و حقش بود که زندگی دیگهای رو تجربه کنه. زندگیای که بنا به شرایط اقتصادی و فرهنگی کشور، جبر و تصمیمات اشتباهی که گرفت نتونست تجربه کنه...
I loved this novel. Published in 1950, the narrator Sophia is a young artist in London and falls in with a fellow artist; they marry and in doing so, he loses his allowance. She writes in first-person about marriage, poverty, and giving birth. There is a note at the beginning of the novel that most is fiction, but chapters 10-12 are true. Well, those chapters are about giving birth in a pre-war London hospital and they are terrifying. I wanted to hug and hold Sophia so many times while reading. She does her best; I understand where she's coming from (others may not understand some of her decisions or actions...). I read this a lot in the middle of the night while nursing my baby, and I won't lie--there were times I cried and felt a connection to this (somewhat fictional) narrator in the wee hours.
Throughout the novel, the writing felt familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint that feeling. Towards the end I realized it reads almost like modern-day confessional, as if someone was posting these chapters as entries on a livejournal maybe. It's self-reflective, naive-sounding, but the writing is superb and its brilliance subtle: I have a new book to add to my favorites.