This book was fascinating as social history and for its literary associations. When I was 19 and waiting to go to University, I spent a year working at the British Library Lending Division in Boston Spa, living in a tiny bedsit in Harrogate. I did a lot of reading that year, including Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler and Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell, The Plague by Albert Camus, TE Lawrence’s The Seven Pillars of Wisdom (never finished) and lots else. The secondhand bookshops that I visited had multiple copies of books that had been popular over the previous thirty years: André Malraux, various Sitwells, Camus, Cyril Connolly, Simone de Beauvoir. All these authors are mentioned or were known by the beautiful Paget sisters whose independent spirits and “twinnie” reinforcement allowed them to grow by reading and association.
In 2020 I read an excellent book about surveillance and oppression in East Germany under the Communists, Stasiland by Anna Funder, an Australian lawyer and investigative journalist. Soon after I finally got round to George Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia. Orwell had been a writing hero of Anna Funder (he wrote wonderfully well, of course) and she started to read more about him, leading to a book about Orwell and his relationship with his first wife entitled Wifedom. Here’s what I wrote in my review, after I read the book last year.
"Anna Funder began her exploration of Eileen O’Shaughnessy’s life as a huge admirer of Eric Blair (George Orwell) but by the time this book was complete, she must have felt differently, although she chooses not to spell that out. As so often, feet of clay emerge. Blair displayed attitudes that reflected his time and upbringing and, perhaps, Funder is applying a contemporary post #metoo yardstick. But you don’t have to live down to a set of behaviours: you can choose to be more loving and generous, acknowledging the essential support that partners provide to writers and all others obsessively bound up with their work. I listened to Burmese Days and Homage to Catalonia earlier this year, so I was unusually attuned to Orwell when I came to this book. His editing out of Eileen’s dangerous and important role in supporting him and POUM in Barcelona is shameful, his infidelities more so. What a selfish arse, and how he disdained practical capabilities. Funder’s analysis shows shows how Orwell’s (all male) biographers are complicit in airbrushing Eileen out. And yet, he is an extraordinary writer, although a lot of his work must surely have benefitted from Eileen’s intelligent help and her greater warmth and wit, particularly in Animal Farm, with which she was most closely involved. There is little sense of editorial work by his publishers. This book was long in gestation and is a personal project, which includes reflections on Anna Funder’s own experiences of male predators and her daughter’s developing attitudes.”
Orwell seems to have revelled in living in uncomfortable and inhospitable conditions. When he lived on the Isle of Jura (mentioned a couple of times in Ariane Bankes’ book) he took a boat out in terrible weather conditions with his infant son and they only narrowly survived the Corryvreckan whirlpool.
I wasn’t surprised to find that famous Cyril Connolly quote about the pram in the hall as the enemy of literary endeavour, but Mamaine Paget was another good example of how famous writers often only succeeded at the expense of someone else who kept house and did the typing, often some poor smitten woman, although there were strong intellectual underpinnings too with Mamaine and Eileen O’Shaughnessy.
The House of Paget. I checked the family tree and William Paget, 1st Baron Paget was the ambitious accountant who learned the skills that led to his being a successful courtier and fixer under none other than Thomas Cromwell, that arch fixer for Wolsey and Henry VIII. The 1st Marquess was ennobled after victory at Waterloo - he was the subject of the famous anecdote when the Duke of Wellington noticed that his officer's leg had been blown off by a passing cannon ball, but he remained seated on his horse: “My God, sir, you seem to have lost your leg!” Henry Paget, looking down: “My God, so I have!” He survived. A later descendant was the 5th Marquess who spent much of the family fortune on theatrical extravaganzas and outrageous costumes, turning the chapel at the family’s castle at Plas Newydd into the Gaiety Theatre.
A well-written family memoir by an experienced editor.