Mrs. Margaret Mantrip was undoubtedly the doyenne of the householders in the Square, if such establishments as the Swiss Convent and Norman's Hotel were regarded as being outside individual ownership.
Edward Frederic "E. F." Benson was an English novelist, biographer, memoirist, archaeologist and short story writer.
E. F. Benson was the younger brother of A.C. Benson, who wrote the words to "Land of Hope and Glory", Robert Hugh Benson, author of several novels and Roman Catholic apologetic works, and Margaret Benson, an author and amateur Egyptologist.
Benson died during 1940 of throat cancer at the University College Hospital, London. He is buried in the cemetery at Rye, East Sussex.
One of Benson's best "non-Lucia" books, with a particularly memorable cast of characters, particularly novelist Susan Leg and bourgeois doyenne Mrs. Mantrip. He gets major mileage from a few transparent plot devices that, somehow, never pall. (Only Benson seems to be able to pull this sort of thing off -- it falls flat for lesser mortals).
Another peculiarity -- or distinction -- of Fred's novels (yes, we Besonites fancy we are on a first-name basis with him) is that he creates such thoroughly unlikeable characters, yet we become strangely fond of them, becoming as engrossed in them as they are (inevitably) in themselves. We can't wait to see what they'll do next.
Secret Lives' hinges on a showdown between two strong-willed and rather ludicrous women, each determined to best the other. This, of course, is basically the formula for his Mapp and Lucia books, but it doesn't diminish the comic effect. This book made me laugh out loud, even on repeat readings. What can I say? Just read it.
This was a treat, not least because it revolves around one of the great dilemmas of Goodreads, albeit in a pre-social media context: shall I admit to reading FRIVOLOUSLY? This is E. F. Benson at his best, poking fun at the pretensions of the English middle class (surprisingly relatable), but with empathy. As silly and conceited as Margaret is, you get the sense that the author is genuinely fond of her and goes out of his way to give her a happy ending.
“Highbrow though she was, well deserved as was her reputation as a devoted student of all that was best in literature…there was one writer of the present day for whom, though the critics of the press took no notice whatever of his books, Margaret secretly felt an admiration, far more passionate than for any other master, dead or living. The creator of immortal stuff was Rudolph da Vinci, of whose novels up to date Margaret Mantrip owned the complete series. They fed her soul: they whisked her away, as on a magic carpet from the commonplace though pleasant circumstances of life, and even from her own high literary aims, and revealed to her how distinguished, how fiery and how lurid human existence might be. There were strong, silent men…who loved deeply and purely and passionately. There was an exquisite girl, like a lily, who through the machinations of a worldly mother, had been mated to a perfect brute, and, after the fatal knot had been tied, met one of these Galahads who consecrated his life to her devoted service, and was rewarded towards the end of the book by the death, in circumstances of the utmost ignominy, of the perfect brute and by union with his beloved. There were little puny men with great hearts, there were plain women with golden ones, who brought happiness wherever they went; there were frail duchesses, and dangerous diplomatists, politicians with tongues of golden eloquence and filthy minds. Almost best of all was a splendid bishop of aristocratic birth who gave up his princely income to the poor and needy retaining for himself only £200 a year…
“Here, then, in the novels of Rudolph da Vinci (such a colourful name, thought Margaret Mantrip, though possibly a nom de plume) she found the joy of that secret life which no one suspected. These romances thrilled and entranced her, and not the less so because they had not the remotest resemblance to the routine of existence as she knew it. It was enough that their author had conceived such magnificent presences and souls of such a fiery quality upon this dull earth dwelling.
“Yet in spite of this, Margaret, concealed, as if it had been a secret vice, her unfounded admiration for his works. Her friends knew her to be an ardent student of what was known as the best literature of the day, and she felt sure that she would compromise that enviable reputation if she declared herself in her true colours. Sometimes she was sorely tempted to do so, but she lacked the moral courage.”
What a surprise this book was, very amusing, perfectly observed ( as always ), a joy to read. I laughed out loud and was sad to come to the end. If you enjoyed the Mapp and Lucia novels this ranks up with with them.
28th July 2023 I've just read this book again and if possible enjoyed it even more. It's so funny I laughed out loud many times. E.F Benson is one of our most treasured authors.
One warning though which is a bit ironical, the ebook is full of typing errors and spelling errors, it looks like it has been badly scanned and not checked at all, Miss leg would not approve! Don't let this put you off this wonderful book though.
This should be a guide on why a person should not try to be someone they're not. "When first we practice to deceive" kept rattling around my head as I read this. I am reminded of Lucia and all the traps she fell into when she would tried to impress someone or to one up Mapp! It's been awhile since I've read Mapp and Lucia and this was as entertaining as all the doings in Tilling! Great fun.
I absolutely love obscure and forgotten fiction from the 1930s. This is a fun light-hearted comedy full of characters you love to hate (or at least love to see make themselves look ridiculous). Having said that, I was fully rooting for the pretentious yet misunderstood Susan Leg from very early on. Great reading for an autumn or winter evening
Letting the Bensonites among us know that BBC4 Radio Extra has a three-part dramatisation of this excellent novel. First part aired early Monday 24 Aug 2020
Miss Susan Leg comes to live in Durham Square in London, she has social aspirations, and hopes to be accepted by the very respectable inhabitants of the square. She has rather common origins which she wants to rise above. But Miss Susan Leg is not what she seems, she is secretly a writer of rather lurid romantic fiction under the pen name of Rudolph da Vinci. And Mrss Mantrip, the most influential and respectable inhabitant of Durham Square, is secretly Randolph da Vinci’s biggest fan, though she doesn’t want anyone to know she has such lowbrow tastes. There are many misunderstandings and quarrels before harmony is once more achieved in Durham Square. This is a very amusing story with some very good characters, I particularly enjoyed all the trouble about the gramophone (Susan can only write with the gramophone going full blast), this is the most entertaining book by E.F. Benson I have read apart from Mapp and Lucia.
I adored this book . Benson is the sort of author I would love to have known . Brilliant satire and still not unkind to his characters . He obviously has a warm affection to them , with all their faults and foibles . Heartily recommended.
While E. F. Benson's Lucia series is probably my lifelong favorite collection of comedic novels, even I have to concede that none of them have much in the way of an actual plot. Some pesky antagonist will set out to prove Lucia and Georgie cannot speak the Italian with which they pepper their sentences; Lucia takes a metaphorical rolled-up newspaper to Mapp's nose; Lucia attempts to annex a Duchess and a Ouija board will call her a snob. Finito!
Secret Lives is my favorite Benson comedy novel that's not part of the Lucia series. Unlike the Riseholme and Tilling books, it has an actual plot, intricately farcical at that, in which quite a quantity of moving parts resolve at the climax with thoroughly satisfying returns. Along the way, Benson has quite a lot to say about the relationship between fiction and our inner lives, and about readers taking pride in their literary tastes and enjoyments—no matter how low self-appointed critics might find the material in question.
I’m quite enjoying reading E.F. Benson’s lesser known and probably out of print works (thanks be to large urban public libraries for not throwing away no-longer popular novels from the early 20th century!). The satire is often quite funny, but he is usually generous to his collection of faintly ridiculous and un-self-aware characters and nothing too bad happens to them, all of which make for a pleasant and diverting read. This one, admittedly, did start a bit slow for me, but once he laid out the scene and introduced all the characters, and then revealed the levels of deception making up the secret lives of the title, I was hooked.
This is one of my favorite books, period. Campy, cutting, hilarious. I spent years trying to write like this and then gave it up and became a musician.