I discovered Mavis Cheek, an author with a Dorothy Parker-ish wit, in the summer of 1990 on a vacation to the White Mountains of Arizona, and have since been grateful to her for the hours of wit and humor she has gifted me. I have re-read my favorites of hers so many times that I almost know them by heart, but that does not diminish the pleasure I get from them. They are staples in my library along with the likes of Oscar Wilde and P.G. Wodehouse. Go-tos whenever a laugh is a necessity, or even just because the mood strikes.
This book, yet another of Mavis Cheek’s novels that is centered around a cheating husband and / or divorce, tells the story of Joan, a woman who is dumped by a husband with a wandering eye, thus giving her to retreat (as much as life allows) to the sanctuary of her domain. Unfortunately, her withdrawal broadened even to the extent of procrastinating the informing of her parents of this crucial, recent development, which, of course, leads to curious misunderstandings, as lies and half-truths usually do in novels.
Mavis Cheek, to her enviable credit, parlayed one divorce into numerous, whimsical novels, at least one of which won awards.
By far, not all of the humor in this one is of the comedy-of-manners type (Jack’s pretense of being one of the Suffolk Battrams in response to the pompous Reginald and Maud’s interrogation), or the obvious, slapstick type (the hilarious scene at the Aldwich), or the ironic humor which resulted when Robyn’s copy of the D.H. Lawrence suffered beneath the heel of Joan’s errant husband. There is also humor that is quite understated and between the lines, such as when Jack confronts Joan saying he now wants his half of their house back because he has left Lizzy (subtext: Jack is currently suffering the same pangs of conscience over Lizzy that he had previously suffered over Joan when he had broken up with her, and, out of guilt, given her their jointly-owned home). Quite a guy. He breaks your heart, but gives you a house - until he has moved on to his next lover/victim, then attempts to renege on the deal and take it back in order to salve his current contrition.
Cheek’s wit spits and rotisseries modern life and relationships until, by the end of the book, I want to deliver a bouquet to her, upon the stage, in consideration of Pause Between Acts, for her ability to metamorphose tragedy into comedy, and her delightful rendering of it all. As Byron said, “From the dull palace to the dirty hovel: Some play the devil, and then write a novel.”