This was OK, but just OK. The Larkins are displeased with life in general during a rainy summer, until Mariette's husband of one year begins to rhapsodise about his childhood holidays in France. Except he probably went there in July or August, and the Larkins spend the month of September in a coastal town, unaware of the abrupt changes in climate France is famous for on the cusp of the seasons.
Very much a period piece, this book satirises the typical English tourist of the sixties, seventies and even part of the eighties who wanted the Mediterranean climate of sun, sea and sand--but also wanted everything else to be just like home: English food, English newspapers, English spoken everywhere. Pa Larkin picks up a word and a phrase here and there and figures he's "fluent" in French, and the whole family sits and criticises the people, the food, the fashions because hey--they're not like England. Then there's the horsefaced English woman who's a member of the slap-leather set and spends her summer going what she fondly imagines to be "native" (blissfully unaware that the real natives probably mock her behind her back every time they meet), and her strait-laced sister who discovers the other Summer Holiday S--sexual dalliance. Ah yes, we remember it well; my OH was a travel agent in S. Spain all his working life and we still live here, given that he was born here and I've lived here most of my life.
So far so sixties, but it doesn't quite work. Partly because they're not in the comfy cosy surroundings of home, partly because Ma is relegated to the background unless she's breastfeeding the latest Larkin--and that's where the biggest "but" arises. I got very tired of the constant sexualisation of the breastfeeding biz and everything else. I have no problem with women who breastfeed in public, that's what breasts are for, after all--but why did Bates feel he had to use sexual language to describe the beachfront, the sea, or whatever? Tiresome, and it shows a lack of range. True to "comedy" fiction/movies/TV of a certain type in the 50s and 60s, dirty-old-man-ism is presented as "funny", as Pa puts his amorous moves on any female within reach and roars with laughter at their reactions...and fictionally enough, none of them seems to mind it a bit. Yeah right. Because we all want some middle-aged berk kissing us or feeling us up whenever the mood takes him, and then ridiculing us, don't we, girls? Ugh. And Ma just chortles and eggs him on in the background--probably glad to get a break from his attentions and palavering. But even more "ugh" is when he notices and practically slavers over the physical development and beauty of his own daughters. Including Primrose, who is--rising 12?? Per-lease. Definitely not funny.
I also found it hard to believe that they could just leave eleven-and-a-bit year old Primrose behind, no passport, no money, no nothing, and no repercussions. That would last until school opened--and then what?
Not Bates' best work.