Wilf Cotton is an aspiring writer from a mining village in South Yorkshire. To develop his talents and free himself from the affectionate tentacles of family life, he goes to live in a nearby city. At Mrs. Swallow's he meets Marguerite Fisher, a girl with a more complex and unhappy background than his own, making a brave new beginning in the city where she lived as a child.
In the story of who they are and what they become, Stan Barstow has drawn a picture of a search for identity that is all too recognizable even today.
Wilf Cotton is a character spun out of the Vic Brown trilogy and (maybe because it's probably Barstow himself) Cotton is never fully painted in. The other charactrers in his story - Poppy the randy landlady and Margeurite, the child saved from a Sheffield slum and brought up in middle-class Hampshire - are much more richly embroidered. Engrossing and nostalgic, to today's audience.
Deftly handled and nuanced character study of a miner's son who has set himself a goal of becoming an author and escaping the life of a coal miner, the pit and omnipresent slagheap. Life in a mining village in 60's Britain is pretty grim and Barstow's cast of characters are imbued with emotional vigor despite the challenges that life presents.
Wilf Cotton's dedication to his nascent novel is only thrown somewhat for a loop due to his love interests, one his landlady, an older women who provides for his comfort in more ways than one and a young women, Marguerite who is escaping her traumatic childhood and a recently broken relationship.
Wilf also has to deal with a brother who has recently come into some conflict with a Union Boss after being caught with his wife in a compromising position.
Exceptionally well written, this was a 4 star novel for me until Barstow spent a page complaining about plain women and how they could just make themselves more attractive with some judiciously applied makeup. Stan you were doing so well up to this point!
A little disappointing after the stellar A Kind of Loving, although I enjoyed the latter so much it would be hard for any book to top it for me.
Wilf Cotton was a less engaging character than Vic Brown who had the perfect cheeky chappy vibe. Wilf was more grown up and morose which wasn't as fun to read, though the life of a struggling author seemed authentically described.
From the blurb I was expecting more of a love triangle, but the women didn't really overlap. I liked how some of the book was written directly about Marguerite, however, as her story was interesting, perhaps even more than Wilf's.
I still enjoyed the writing style and setting, and there were some flashes of brilliance in the plot, but I didn't find this the most memorable read.
I very strongly suspect the basis of my reading enjoyment, expectations and appreciation stemmed quite considerably from the reading I did in the 1960s. This (following in from 'A kind of loving' which was one of last year's Top Ten first-time reads) was such unadulterated joy that I am going to have to seek out everything else Stan Barstow has written.