Review: A House in Flanders – Michael Jenkins

Slightly Foxed magazine (strapline: “the real reader’s quarterly”) consists of reviews and articles on largely out of print books.  Each issue is a sort of journey of rediscovery.  A typical article would cover a mid-20th century writer who was acclaimed at the time but is now largely forgotten.  Sometimes the magazine goes further back in time, sometimes it covers more recent authors (see index), but the characteristic feature is the sheer enthusiasm the writers bring to their articles, often making me want to seek out the books referred to.

Slightly Foxed also publish limited print-run  reprints of forgotten books under the imprint Slightly Foxed Editions.  These tend to sell-out but a few are still available.  I don’t usually buy these – I was tempted by A Cab at the Door by V S Pritchett but I already have a paper-back copy do didn’t bother.  The latest one interested me however, A House in Flanders, by Michael Jenkins, and I’ve been pretty pleased with it despite my lack of interest in “book collecting” as such.

The design of the book is totally retro.  It looks like one of those old pocket-sized Everyman Library books you see so often in second-hand bookshops, with a cloth cover, gold-embossed lettering and a ribbon page-marker.  You get a little card with the book giving you the copy number of the the book, and this is also written inside the book on the publication details page.

The summer edition of the magazine has an article on the book by crime-writer P D James, who describes the story thus:

“The story is simple.  Shortly after the Second World War, Michael, a 14 year old boy, intelligent, sensitive and solitary, is sent by his parents to spend his summer holiday with a French family in a large house on the edge of the great Flanders plain . . . He becomes absorbed into the life of a self-contained household of elderly aunts each of whom has her jealously guarded field of responsibility. . . The house, survivor of two world wars,  is a house of secrets.  As the young Michael becomes part of the daily domestic routine and the timeless pattern of country life, he is used as a confidant by members of the family and becomes privy to old tragedies and half-acknowledged pain.”

Each chapter in the book is named after one of the characters, Tante Yvonne, Tante Florence, Oncle Auguste and so on.  We soon find that this family is in fact quite loose, with people coming and going over the years and retaining their own lifestyle and their own spheres of influence within the home.

But their are some complicated things going on with personal histories often forcing their way into the present.  Tante Yvonne is the lynch-pin of the little community, the oldest sister who took over the family when their mother died.  She is a formidable presence but also wise, and teaches Michael skills of tact and timing which enable him to act as a sympathetic catalyst, able to play a part in resolving long-standing difficulties.

Flanders Farm

Tante Alice is an unpleasant old woman who has private means, including the ownership of several properties let out to tenants.  Michael has to accompany her to visit a farmer who is unable to make a profit and pay his rent.  The poor family are struggling to make ends meet and Alice wishes to evict them.  Michael confides in Tante Yvonne, who tells Michael, “We must find a way of convincing her.  But I must wait for her to speak to me, which in her own time she will do”.   Within a few days the problem is resolved and the farmer keeps his farm, with Alice only a little discomfited.

The book proceeds in this manner through all its fourteen chapters, providing pleasant reading for a summer evening sitting outside in the garden.  I can’t say its a great literature, but it is skilfully planned and written and keeps the reader’s attention throughout.

The question arises as to “Is it true?”.  The author’s Epilogue goes some way to answering the question:

“this book was written after an interval of half a century, during which I travelled widely and much happened in my life.   I can only say that when, after such a lapse in time, I set out to recall that period in my youth, it reappeared as in a dream, complete but surreal.  Others have seen what I wrote as somehow suspended between recollection and fiction.  For me it results rather from the play of imagination on memory . . . “

Now there’s obfuscation for you!  Nevertheless, the book is beautifully written, in a style which I can only describe as “precise”, the words carefully-chosen with nothing superfluous to the story.  Michael Jenkins perfectly captures the atmosphere of Northern France, with its remote villages and vast landscapes.  As a regular traveller to that region, I recognise the life-style of this family and it is still possible to visit a Flanders village and find elderly ladies going from shop to shop, swapping bits of news with each other  on their morning round.

I think this little book works well in its Slightly Foxed edition.  I am not bothered by all the “limited edition” thing myself – I would have been equally as happy to read this book in an old paperback and I’ll probably give this away to someone else, but its been pleasant enough to own it and read it for a month or so.

Incidentally, for those who don’t know already, “slightly foxed” is a second-hand bookseller’s term for the “discolouration of printed material with brown marks”.

Photo of farm in Flanders:  Marc Aert / FreeDigitalPhotos.net