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Cotters' England
This strange and fascinating novel is the first of Christina Stead's works to be set wholly in England, the England of the post-war working class, explored through the lives of one particular family, the Cotters, and their friends and acquaintances in the East End of London, in Newcastle and in Durham.
Through the lives of the sisters Nellie Cook and Peggy Cotter and their brother Tom, Christina Stead presents a picture of blighted aspiration and hope deferred, and of betrayal within the working class movement through the confusion and opportunism of many of its trade union and Labour Party leaders. 'Cotters' England' is also a novel about the variety of human sexuality - heterosexual love within and outside marriage, lesbian love, incestuous love.
With dramatic irony Christina Stead interweaves these personal and political themes in the glittering personality of the wildly eccentric Nellie, an incorrigible sentimentalist, one of Christina Stead's most unforgettable heroines. In her portrayal of Peggy, the phony idealist, the brilliant manipulator, the complexities and contradictions of life in England as it is experiences by most of its people come vibrantly to life.
First published in 1967, this is Christina Stead's tenth novel. A mature, ironic work of intense vitality and disturbing power.
Through the lives of the sisters Nellie Cook and Peggy Cotter and their brother Tom, Christina Stead presents a picture of blighted aspiration and hope deferred, and of betrayal within the working class movement through the confusion and opportunism of many of its trade union and Labour Party leaders. 'Cotters' England' is also a novel about the variety of human sexuality - heterosexual love within and outside marriage, lesbian love, incestuous love.
With dramatic irony Christina Stead interweaves these personal and political themes in the glittering personality of the wildly eccentric Nellie, an incorrigible sentimentalist, one of Christina Stead's most unforgettable heroines. In her portrayal of Peggy, the phony idealist, the brilliant manipulator, the complexities and contradictions of life in England as it is experiences by most of its people come vibrantly to life.
First published in 1967, this is Christina Stead's tenth novel. A mature, ironic work of intense vitality and disturbing power.
352 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1966
3 people are currently reading
140 people want to read
About the author
Christina Stead
39 books128 followersChristina Stead (1902–1983) was an Australian writer regarded as one of the twentieth century’s master novelists. Stead spent most of her writing life in Europe and the United States, and her varied residences acted as the settings for a number of her novels. She is best known for The Man Who Loved Children (1940), which was praised by author Jonathan Franzen as a “crazy, gorgeous family novel” and “one of the great literary achievements of the twentieth century.” Stead died in her native Australia in 1983.
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
June 2, 2023
This is a complex novel, not easy to read and not comfortable on any level. It looks at the lives on the English working class and is set in the early 1950s. It took Stead fifteen years to write it and so by the time it came out in the mid-1960s it was almost looking at a world that was passing. The novel moves between Bridgehead in North East England (loosely based on Gateshead) and the east end of London. It centres around one family the Cotters. In Bridgehead there are Mr and Mrs Cotter senior whose role is minor and they die during the novel. Their daughter Peggy acts as housekeeper. Also in the house is Uncle Sime, Mrs Cotter’s brother and a rather ill-tempered dog. There are other relatives who move in and out of the orbit. In London is Peggy’s sister Nellie Cook, the central character of the book and a socialist journalist. Her husband George is a trade unionist who has just got a job abroad working for the International Labour Organisation. In the household is Eliza, George’s first wife, who acts as housekeeper. Peggy and Nellie’s brother Tom moves between the two and for part of the novel has jobs elsewhere. There are lots of characters in London who move in and out of the novel. Nellie has lots of women friends.
It must be said that none of the characters are likeable and Nellie is a remarkable creation who many reviewers have described as a monster. Stead looks at a number of themes and the novel makes reference to incest, suicide (in relation to one of the minor characters), poverty, malnutrition, a lesbian affair and inevitably class. There is no real plot and at times it almost feels stream of consciousness as the reader experiences Nellie’s monologues and the strength of her character. Nellie drowns in tea, whisky and cigarettes and appears to use and abuse people for her own ends in a pretty outrageous way. Uncle Simon is the victim of abuse and the portrayal of his vulnerability is powerful. Tom (to quote a line from a Jarvis Cocker song), slides through life on charm. Women find him attractive and he uses them for his own ends and there is an ongoing and volatile relationship with Nellie.
Stead was a committed socialist and was certainly making a point about poverty and deprivation. She also said herself that she wanted to write the lives of the obscure; the themes here have strength in themselves;
“I’d like to take ye with me, show you a bit of England with the lid off, no Roseland, the furnace beneath the green moor that’ll blow up into a blistering volcano one of these days. Aye, it’s a bit different from your green and pleasant fields. But it’s a very normal tragedy.”
The images I the novel contain references to folkloric, supernatural and fairy tale elements. As Denise Brown points out:
“These elements are then concentrated in the characterisation of the novel’s protagonist, Nellie Cook, who as the spirit of this England, is the focus of the supernatural; she is the bewitcher personified. Stead succeeds in combining vividly the private drama of the troubled protagonist, Nellie, with the public drama of a troubled nation. We are finally to understand that living in a land of illusion called “Cotters’ England”, “Bohemia” or “fairyland” has the effect on its people of a kind of life in death.”
We are looking at frustrated lives and Nellie has (I think accurately) been described as Kafkaesque. Nellie’s power is illustrated in the character of her friend Caroline, to whom Nellie says;
“If you don’t confess you must commit suicide and suicide itself is a confession; and not to commit suicide is a terrible confession.”
All the novel’s characters are trapped in one way or another and there is a bleakness to it, a sense of despair. There is no vanguard of the proletariat here; they’ve all gone off to nice jobs abroad to be internationalist. Many of the characters are done to.
It’s a tour de force, but there are troubling elements, including the overwhelming character of Nellie and the general passivity.
It must be said that none of the characters are likeable and Nellie is a remarkable creation who many reviewers have described as a monster. Stead looks at a number of themes and the novel makes reference to incest, suicide (in relation to one of the minor characters), poverty, malnutrition, a lesbian affair and inevitably class. There is no real plot and at times it almost feels stream of consciousness as the reader experiences Nellie’s monologues and the strength of her character. Nellie drowns in tea, whisky and cigarettes and appears to use and abuse people for her own ends in a pretty outrageous way. Uncle Simon is the victim of abuse and the portrayal of his vulnerability is powerful. Tom (to quote a line from a Jarvis Cocker song), slides through life on charm. Women find him attractive and he uses them for his own ends and there is an ongoing and volatile relationship with Nellie.
Stead was a committed socialist and was certainly making a point about poverty and deprivation. She also said herself that she wanted to write the lives of the obscure; the themes here have strength in themselves;
“I’d like to take ye with me, show you a bit of England with the lid off, no Roseland, the furnace beneath the green moor that’ll blow up into a blistering volcano one of these days. Aye, it’s a bit different from your green and pleasant fields. But it’s a very normal tragedy.”
The images I the novel contain references to folkloric, supernatural and fairy tale elements. As Denise Brown points out:
“These elements are then concentrated in the characterisation of the novel’s protagonist, Nellie Cook, who as the spirit of this England, is the focus of the supernatural; she is the bewitcher personified. Stead succeeds in combining vividly the private drama of the troubled protagonist, Nellie, with the public drama of a troubled nation. We are finally to understand that living in a land of illusion called “Cotters’ England”, “Bohemia” or “fairyland” has the effect on its people of a kind of life in death.”
We are looking at frustrated lives and Nellie has (I think accurately) been described as Kafkaesque. Nellie’s power is illustrated in the character of her friend Caroline, to whom Nellie says;
“If you don’t confess you must commit suicide and suicide itself is a confession; and not to commit suicide is a terrible confession.”
All the novel’s characters are trapped in one way or another and there is a bleakness to it, a sense of despair. There is no vanguard of the proletariat here; they’ve all gone off to nice jobs abroad to be internationalist. Many of the characters are done to.
It’s a tour de force, but there are troubling elements, including the overwhelming character of Nellie and the general passivity.
February 12, 2024
Grimy and dark tainted hearts.
I can understand all the negative reviews but I personally love rambling dialogue and plotless stories. People will read Joyce and call him genius but people will read Christina Stead and shake their heads.
I can understand all the negative reviews but I personally love rambling dialogue and plotless stories. People will read Joyce and call him genius but people will read Christina Stead and shake their heads.
Want to read
August 16, 2015THIS IS NOT A REVIEW (YET):
A Reminiscence in Stead
When I moved into Bruce Hall in the second half of 1977, I was greeted by the administrative assistant, Madame de Totth. She was physically frail, but nevertheless wielded the authority of someone who knew everything that needed to and could be known about college life...and ours in particular (though she was professionally discreet with that knowledge).
She was Hungarian by descent, and immediately fascinated me with her quiet central European discipline, acumen and charm. She was a modest woman, but there was evident a sense of pride, not quite vanity, that at her age she could still cast a spell.
When a real life Hungarian student, Judka, arrived, Madame de Totth was glad to discover that I had already made her acquaintance. In a way, I transferred some of the source of my fascination to Judka, she having much more in common with my age and availability.
When Judka returned to Hungary with her parents, I was heartbroken. Madame de Totth was comforting, but understood the reason for the attraction, because in a way it was hers as well.
Madame de Totth often went out of her way to ensure that I met a new resident or a temporary guest.
One quiet Sunday, when few others had emerged from their winter beds for lunch, she took me over to a lady who was sitting alone at one of the dining tables. Her back faced the northern sunlight that streamed in from the garden next to the dining room. She was like a cat that had found a warm spot on a window sill. She too was frail and possibly ill. Madame de Totth introduced us, and I sat down to dine with Christina Stead for the first of several times.
I don't think I had read any of her novels at the time, but I was aware of her work. In 1974, she had won the inaugural Patrick White Literary Award that he had funded with his Nobel Prize money. Years earlier, I had stumbled across a cache of paperback Whites that I had bought for 20 cents each, and I had consumed them voraciously, proud that an Australian could write so well and gain such international recognition.
I'm sure we discussed Patrick White. I also suspect we discussed Randolph Stow, because to this day, I often confuse their (his and her) works in my mind, probably without any objective justification. Wondering why just now, I googled a few ideas and found these assessments:
"Although Stow’s novel ('To the Islands') presents us with challenging social, political and historical issues, it was never denied literary merit. Indeed the power of Stow’s prose is the equal of anyone’s from Patrick White to Christina Stead; it is exquisite in its sparseness, precision and surprising beauty."
"A private man, a prodigiously gifted yet intermittently silent author, [Stow] has been hailed as ‘the least visible figure of that great twentieth-century triumvirate of Australian novelists whose other members are Patrick White and Christina Stead’."
I can't remember whether my friends joined us at lunch on any of these occasions. Sometimes, you forget those who were around you when you have a brush with fame. Still, for some reason, I have a memory, probably fabricated with the lapse of time, that Judka joined us, and by the end of lunch, the two of them were speaking to each other in Russian (which I couldn't understand).
I googled Christina Stead to work out exactly when she had been in Canberra or whether I was just fabricating that, too.
I found these letters, page 11 of which makes mention of Madelon de Totthe and Bruce Hall.
It was nice to be reminded of such things, and to know that this much, at least, is true.
A Reminiscence in Stead
When I moved into Bruce Hall in the second half of 1977, I was greeted by the administrative assistant, Madame de Totth. She was physically frail, but nevertheless wielded the authority of someone who knew everything that needed to and could be known about college life...and ours in particular (though she was professionally discreet with that knowledge).
She was Hungarian by descent, and immediately fascinated me with her quiet central European discipline, acumen and charm. She was a modest woman, but there was evident a sense of pride, not quite vanity, that at her age she could still cast a spell.
When a real life Hungarian student, Judka, arrived, Madame de Totth was glad to discover that I had already made her acquaintance. In a way, I transferred some of the source of my fascination to Judka, she having much more in common with my age and availability.
When Judka returned to Hungary with her parents, I was heartbroken. Madame de Totth was comforting, but understood the reason for the attraction, because in a way it was hers as well.
Madame de Totth often went out of her way to ensure that I met a new resident or a temporary guest.
One quiet Sunday, when few others had emerged from their winter beds for lunch, she took me over to a lady who was sitting alone at one of the dining tables. Her back faced the northern sunlight that streamed in from the garden next to the dining room. She was like a cat that had found a warm spot on a window sill. She too was frail and possibly ill. Madame de Totth introduced us, and I sat down to dine with Christina Stead for the first of several times.
I don't think I had read any of her novels at the time, but I was aware of her work. In 1974, she had won the inaugural Patrick White Literary Award that he had funded with his Nobel Prize money. Years earlier, I had stumbled across a cache of paperback Whites that I had bought for 20 cents each, and I had consumed them voraciously, proud that an Australian could write so well and gain such international recognition.
I'm sure we discussed Patrick White. I also suspect we discussed Randolph Stow, because to this day, I often confuse their (his and her) works in my mind, probably without any objective justification. Wondering why just now, I googled a few ideas and found these assessments:
"Although Stow’s novel ('To the Islands') presents us with challenging social, political and historical issues, it was never denied literary merit. Indeed the power of Stow’s prose is the equal of anyone’s from Patrick White to Christina Stead; it is exquisite in its sparseness, precision and surprising beauty."
"A private man, a prodigiously gifted yet intermittently silent author, [Stow] has been hailed as ‘the least visible figure of that great twentieth-century triumvirate of Australian novelists whose other members are Patrick White and Christina Stead’."
I can't remember whether my friends joined us at lunch on any of these occasions. Sometimes, you forget those who were around you when you have a brush with fame. Still, for some reason, I have a memory, probably fabricated with the lapse of time, that Judka joined us, and by the end of lunch, the two of them were speaking to each other in Russian (which I couldn't understand).
I googled Christina Stead to work out exactly when she had been in Canberra or whether I was just fabricating that, too.
I found these letters, page 11 of which makes mention of Madelon de Totthe and Bruce Hall.
It was nice to be reminded of such things, and to know that this much, at least, is true.
March 23, 2019
At times a very slow slog, at others a fascinating character study. This is a messy, sometimes frustrating read, but there is such depth of characterisation that I forgave it its excesses. Nellie in particular is such a fascinating character despite the fact that at times she behaves appallingly. The glimpses of life in the poverty of her hometown, her flight into bohemian intellectualism and socialism, her cruelty and her desperate need for validation. This isn’t a book I’d recommend to most people, but if you like something with a bit of meat to chew on, and are willing to work through some rambling passages to get to the depth underneath, well, I enjoyed it.
January 17, 2014
Not long into this book, I had to break off and do a bit of research to try and find out what the point of it was, for it seemed to be little more than a rambling rant by the central character Nellie Cotter. My research told me that in fact that indeed is more or less the whole book, a shapeless, interminable monologue by an extremely unpleasant and manipulative woman, who has an adolescent fixation on her brother and enjoys exercising power over all who come into her orbit. From London’s East End to Bridgehead (Gateshead) in the north of England, it’s a novel of social realism, detailing the lives of the working class just after the war and looking at the radical fringe of the labour movement.
Potentially an interesting subject, Stead has not been able to capture the reality of this way of life, in spite of the time she spent in both London and the north of England. Merely having Nellie interject “pet” into every sentence doesn’t convey Newcastle speech. Nor do occasional references to collecting an old age pension convey socially pertinent detail. Her characterisation is patchy, to say the least, often in fact confusing, and none of the characters are likeable. Cotters’ England is a dreary, hopeless place, and Stead offers no solutions or even any ideas on how the workers might be able to strive for a better future. Nellie never seems to stop talking and pontificating, and her ramblings seem to be of no use or purpose expect to disorientate other people. In the end I had to just skim this tedious, dull and verbose novel. Christina Stead is an acclaimed Australian novelist and she has many admirers. Not long ago Jonathan Franzen wrote praising the book, although in terms that left me totally bemused. However, I’m glad to have discovered Stead, as she is an Australian “classic”, and would certainly consider other titles by her. But this one left me cold, I’m afraid.
Potentially an interesting subject, Stead has not been able to capture the reality of this way of life, in spite of the time she spent in both London and the north of England. Merely having Nellie interject “pet” into every sentence doesn’t convey Newcastle speech. Nor do occasional references to collecting an old age pension convey socially pertinent detail. Her characterisation is patchy, to say the least, often in fact confusing, and none of the characters are likeable. Cotters’ England is a dreary, hopeless place, and Stead offers no solutions or even any ideas on how the workers might be able to strive for a better future. Nellie never seems to stop talking and pontificating, and her ramblings seem to be of no use or purpose expect to disorientate other people. In the end I had to just skim this tedious, dull and verbose novel. Christina Stead is an acclaimed Australian novelist and she has many admirers. Not long ago Jonathan Franzen wrote praising the book, although in terms that left me totally bemused. However, I’m glad to have discovered Stead, as she is an Australian “classic”, and would certainly consider other titles by her. But this one left me cold, I’m afraid.
Read
July 12, 2020Reading Christina Stead is often like being bludgeoned to death. But, like being a ritual sacrifice in one of those ancient Aztec tribes, it is a rather nice death, a death with purpose.
At her most readable (The Salzburg Tales, House of All Nations, Letty Fox: Her Luck), there is literally no-one quite like her. At her highest literary point, The Man Who Loved Children, she terrifies the reader into submission with the sheer majesty of her power.
I'm not sure Cotter's England (published in some countries as Dark Places of the Heart) is a literary highpoint for Stead; it is certainly not among her most readable. I'm also not entirely convinced that she is accurately depicting the working class English lives featured herein.
Still, stylistically this is staggering. Difficult. Very difficult. But staggering.
At her most readable (The Salzburg Tales, House of All Nations, Letty Fox: Her Luck), there is literally no-one quite like her. At her highest literary point, The Man Who Loved Children, she terrifies the reader into submission with the sheer majesty of her power.
I'm not sure Cotter's England (published in some countries as Dark Places of the Heart) is a literary highpoint for Stead; it is certainly not among her most readable. I'm also not entirely convinced that she is accurately depicting the working class English lives featured herein.
Still, stylistically this is staggering. Difficult. Very difficult. But staggering.
November 21, 2011
I'm glad that I don't live in Cotter's England. What a nightmarish place! Cruelty, deception and manipulation abound. After 250 pages of 350 I had to skim as I was being bludgeoned by the same verbal weapons over and over, page after page. Stead kept up her barrage till the bitter end with the two protagonists in the next to last paragraph smiling triumphantly for photographic posterity and only the reader left to mourn their victims.
June 16, 2020
Phew! Such a difficult and exhausting read!
The main character Nellie just talks and smokes and talks and talks and smokes without break, even through the night. And little of what she says actually makes sense.
She actually talks her ‘friend’ into suicide. She is surrounded by ‘friends’ but she doesn’t even seem to like any of them, despite her continuous assertions that her advice is in their best interests.
The book is set partly in London at Nellie’s house and partly in Bridgehead (which I think is meant to be Gateshead) in the family home.
The Bridgehead parts are no easier to read - a senile mother, an abused elderly uncle and Peggy, another Cotter daughter, who is so vile in temperament she beats her octogenarian uncle and even ends up throwing him out of the house for good.
This is the first Christina Stead book I have read, and I’m not sure if this intense style is usual for her, but if it is, I’m going to have to steady my nerves before I dare read another!
The main character Nellie just talks and smokes and talks and talks and smokes without break, even through the night. And little of what she says actually makes sense.
She actually talks her ‘friend’ into suicide. She is surrounded by ‘friends’ but she doesn’t even seem to like any of them, despite her continuous assertions that her advice is in their best interests.
The book is set partly in London at Nellie’s house and partly in Bridgehead (which I think is meant to be Gateshead) in the family home.
The Bridgehead parts are no easier to read - a senile mother, an abused elderly uncle and Peggy, another Cotter daughter, who is so vile in temperament she beats her octogenarian uncle and even ends up throwing him out of the house for good.
This is the first Christina Stead book I have read, and I’m not sure if this intense style is usual for her, but if it is, I’m going to have to steady my nerves before I dare read another!
November 26, 2015
A grim story set in post World War 1 England. A self-absorbed manipulative unpleasant protagonist. She even glories in the suicide of a 'friend'.
The political leanings of the author - socialism- are strongly evident in this work.
Not for me.
The political leanings of the author - socialism- are strongly evident in this work.
Not for me.
January 14, 2012
unfinished
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews