When I was going through my “Bloomsbury period” about twenty years ago, I read everything I could about the “central members”, and as a consequence Katherine Mansfield came into the equation through being a friend of Virginia Woolf. I read biographies about the former which I loved as she appeared to be such an interesting and gifted person; and I particularly enjoyed the biography by Antony Alpers which delves into many other aspects of her somewhat short tragic life, including “her final search for truth in the teachings of the Russian mystic G.I. Gurdjieff.”
I found her letters and journals excellent but her short stories rather “slow” and “lacklustre” at the time (many people will no doubt disagree with me). Nevertheless, I thought that perhaps now was a good time to try some different unread stories by her; “The Garden Party and Other Stories” seemed as good a time as ever.
It’s interesting to note how her friends viewed her and that “Virginia Woolf once said: “I was jealous of her writing. The only writing I have ever been jealous of.’ Woolf also, jealously, wrote, “the more she is praised, the more I am convinced she is bad.”
And as for “D.H. Lawrence, with whom Mansfield had a fraught friendship. Well can you imagine a supposed “friend” behaving in the following fashion? On one occasion he visited Wellington, New Zealand, her birthplace, and was moved to send Mansfield a postcard bearing a single Italian word, ‘Ricordi’ (‘memories’). It was a small and cryptic gesture of reconciliation; they’d fallen out badly and in his previous letter he had said ‘You are a loathsome reptile - I hope you will die.’
Returning to this book, as I’ve digressed, I think the fifteen stories that make up this set are skilfully written, but not for me.
Many people, no doubt, will also agree on the following review that was given about this book:
“Innovative, startlingly perceptive and aglow with colour, these fifteen stories were written towards the end of Katherine Mansfield's tragically short life. Many are set in the author's native New Zealand, others in England and the French Riviera. All are revelations of the unspoken, half-understood emotions that make up everyday experience - from the blackly comic "The Daughters of the Late Colonel", and the short, sharp sketch "Miss Brill", in which a lonely woman's precarious sense of self is brutally destroyed, to the vivid impressionistic evocation of family life in "At the Bay". 'All that I write,' Mansfield said, 'all that I am - is on the borders of the sea. It is a kind of playing.”
If I hadn’t read this book before reading that review, I would have been swayed immediately and acquired it and that’s for sure. But I’m street-wise now, in that I’ve recently found out I’m my own person and will not let others influence me. That’s what I’m saying now anyway.
There’s a certain naivety about “The Garden Party”. I also found it odd that two such similar names were used for the brother and sister, Laurie and Laura Sheridan. She is supposedly in charge of organizing the garden party, as her mother doesn’t really feel up to it, and has the very “difficult task” of having to decide the exact location of the marquee. She also rather likes the workmen involved there.
“Oh, how extraordinarily nice workmen were, she thought. Why couldn’t she have workmen for her friends rather than the silly boys she danced with and who came to Sunday night supper? She would get on much better with men like these.”
It’s all very frivolous and absurd in that she is confined inside her own safe world with comfortable surroundings (the family has a tennis court, and for the garden party there are many flowers, niceties and yet a vulgarity such as flags on sandwiches, etc.), and yet it’s “us” as opposed to “them”, i.e. the working class, the unfortunate creatures who live along the road. So when a poor young carter, Mr Scott, is killed rather closely to their house, Laura wants to have the garden party cancelled as a sign of respect:
“But we can’t possibly have a garden-party with a man dead just outside the front gate.”
Nevertheless, her very silly mother breathes a sigh of relief when she hears that he has not been killed on their property and so that was fine to continue with the garden party. Laura is thus dispatched at her mother’s insistence to visit the widow, carrying some of the “remains” of their garden party food in a basket (what an insult) and upon arrival there, she is quite horrified to find herself in this “disgusting” working class house and then the biggest humiliation arrives when she is forced to view Mr Scott laid out in the house:
“There lay a young man, fast asleep – sleeping so soundly, so deeply, that he was far, far away from them both. Oh, so remote, so peaceful. He was dreaming. Never wake him up again…..He was given up to his dream. What did garden-parties and baskets and lace frocks matter to him? He was far from all those things. He was wonderful, beautiful.” And Laura wanted to cry.
I have ambivalent feelings about this story in that I loved and loathed it at the same time. The last two paragraphs of this short story were inane and I nearly abandoned the book there and then. But then again, I reasoned, the others may be better? That’s the beauty of short stories, there’s always choice.
“Miss Brill” and her fur, I must admit, were slightly different and there is a rather amusing ending.
“Although it was so brilliantly fine – the blue sky powdered with gold and great spots of light like white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques – Miss Brill was glad that she had decided on her fur.”
“Her First Ball” with Leila was also good, The wonders of the dance and the “quite an old man – fat, with a big bald patch on his head – took her programme and murmured, “Let me see, let me see” and disappears… with an excellent ending too.
On the whole though, the other twelve stories are rather mundane and I’m not too impressed with the writing style or the content. Short stories have to sparkle and these appear to be trite and meaningless, and so, so dated; well to me anyway. I’m sure, however, that there are many people who love the works of this author.