This must be one of the novels, if not the only novel, that one reads for the centenary of the Great War. Ford is an erudite social anthropologist, describing every detail of a highly evolved social structure in the process of simultaneously portraying its implosion. So that it would be a challenge to assign it to most undergraduate classes today, I think; they would protest that they don’t have a clue what anyone is talking about. What nonsense is Tietjiens going on about? – they didn’t sign up to learn a dead language.
But they should. Ford is astounding, working on so many levels in every scene. A brilliant example: the early set piece in the country club where the general tells off the two ‘City men’ for coarse talk and then proceeds himself to talk of how a gentleman handles an affair, but of course in the only acceptable upper class manner. In between these items, Ford, at the keyboard, plays a four-part conversational fugue -- so perfect.
There follows a midnight cart ride through the countryside where we come to know the two main characters in their hearts and souls, and we understand why they will become soul mates. This conversation, which tellingly takes place in the dark, shines in contrast to the obscured upper class language of Tietjen’s wife and best friend, and others from the worlds of (Catholic) church, army, White Hall, intellectual salons, landed gentry, etc.
Mostly, though, Ford gives the reader the heart and guts of men and women before and during wartime, caught in social conventions that lead them to do both noble and despicable things. Ford wrings one’s heart without sentimentality, and forces understanding for those who cause pain through their own hurt and frustration. He takes your breath away with his art.
This first book in the tetralogy Parade’s End does not reach the battlefront, but the war is never far away. Nor is Ford’s contempt for men and women who treat the war as another political exercise, or an opportunity for profiteering, and who are willing to wink at ethnical niceties. One very interesting point is Ford’s treatment of women’s influence on political affairs and war policy. This echoes the same issue in another book I read recently, The General by C. S. Forester. Well-educated, well-to-do women with no chance at a career and a will to power lead to trouble.
One of the most interesting questions, for me, is how Ford feels about the politics of his characters. Tietjens is a Tory—Does Ford admire his party? All of Ford’s other men of the ruling class are oblivious, stuffed shirts or hypocritical cads. Is Ford saying that Tories have fine ideals and England depends on people actually living up to them, as Tietjens does? Or is he saying that the Tories wave a flag with Tietjens’ ideals on it to perpetuate the class structure as an admirable, chivalrous and benevolent institution that everyone ought to be thankful for—but in fact in fact the Tories are only out for themselves, manipulating war policy as profiteers and ensuring safe postings for their sons?
The politics of the other characters are not held up as a better alternative; see Valentine’s brother’s communism and Sylvia’s vague German sympathies. Ford has no simplistic answers, and I look forward to seeing how he develops this aspect of the work over the next three parts of Parade’s End. Carcanet publishes what looks to be a marvelous, fully edited and commented edition of all four volumes, but I’m going to read the novels cold the first time. Later I’ll go back and learn about his politics and who he was writing about, because surely these characters must be modeled on real people in some cases.
As for the writing, one has to be knocked over by how Ford uses his own deep learning and experience to set his knight in a modernist flow of consciousness and make it work. He shows, rather than tells, how brilliant Tietjens is—a very hard thing to do convincingly unless you’re brilliant yourself. Ford also shows how Tietjens is simultaneously emblematic of his class in his love of land and system, and unusual for his contempt and willingness to rip apart the conventions of overlooking unpleasant things that involve his peers. Perhaps the most amazing thing is that Tietjens is not a prig—you don’t feel either disbelief that a man could hold these beliefs and act on them so conscientiously, or the revulsion usually directed at the scrupulous—because Ford so clearly distinguishes between virtuous and righteous.
The contradictory nature of Tietjens is evident from the first, but Ford ingeniously introduces the modernist style gradually. There are time shifts from the first, but signaled in the usual way. At some point, however, the reader is yanked into unsignalled shifts in viewpoint and temporality, and the interior thoughts become more and more like those of Joyce or Woolf. This happens as passions rise and overwhelm reason, so that the style reinforces the text.
In short, a masterpiece.