#110 Mary Postgate- Rudyard Kipling
England during WWII. The Fowler household is Mrs. Fowler,
her son Wynn, and their house maid Mary Postgate. Wynn is training to be a
fighter pilot but dies before seeing action. One day a young girl is shot and
killed during a German bombing raid. That’s the story.
It’s a very proper English setting telling a very proper
English story in a very proper English manner. The characters to my ears seem
cold and unsentimental. Her son dies and the Mother doesn’t cry: “It can’t be
natural not to cry…I’m so afraid you’ll have a reaction.” But she doesn’t, she
just makes sure that Mary systematically takes care of all Wynn’s belongings,
mostly burning them. They wonder why he kept old letters from them.
And Mary is a prototypical image of a dutiful English
servant:
“Mary was not young, and though her speech was as colorless
as her eyes or her hair, she was never shocked.”
Noticing Mary for the first time is 11 years of service as
an individual person, Mrs. Fowler asks: “Mary, aren’t you anything except a
companion? Would you ever have been anything except a companion?”
To which Mary coolly replies: “No…I don’t imagine I ever
should. But I’ve no imagination, I’m afraid.” Fun times!
After witnessing a child die bleeding in the street, her
reaction: “One mustn’t let ones mind dwell on these things.”
I can recognize a good story and a talented hand when I read
it, but that doesn’t mean I will always enjoy them. There is just something
about these old English stories about the lives of high society and their
servants that misses me completely. I know I’m showing my ignorance, but this
is my blog and I want to be honest.
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