"... had it not been for the diary, or what the diary stood for, everything would be different. I should not be sitting in this drab, flowerless room, where the curtains were not even drawn to hide the cold rain beating on the windows, or contemplating the accumulation of the past and the duty it imposed on me to sort it out. I should be sitting in another room, rainbow-hued, looking not into the past but into the future: and I should not be sitting alone."
There speaks Leo Colston of the events of July 1900 when, as a boy of twelve, he was a guest of the Maudsley family at Brandham Hall in Norfolk. His stay coincided with a heatwave, the mercury rising to new heights each day as Leo assumed the rôle of Mercury, messenger to the gods - but in Leo's case he was messenger to ill-fated lovers.
L.P. Hartley's The Go-Between is a very finely wrought book, an acute psychological study rooted in the fertile soil of class, propriety and social divisions - sometimes slight and subtle ones, but brutally divisive nonetheless. Here the child is agent or pawn of the adults, and innocence and inexperience play against manipulative, self-serving will. This happens in an intense and stifling hot-house atmosphere, and that heat - both literal and metaphorical - although labelled by Leo "a liberating power", is as pressure to the narrative, supporting it, confining it, and then building to a point at which it cannot be contained.
Leo's memories of the time and place, and the devastating conclusion to his visit to the Hall are initially ones of loneliness and isolation - uncomfortably not quite fitting in - then of an "afflatus of spirit" where "to be in tune with all that Brandham Hall meant, I must increase my stature, I must act on a grander scale." As he worships Marian Maudsley, the daughter of the house, and willingly carries messages between her and Ted, the tenant farmer, so he becomes party to deception and disloyalty and a player in a dangerous game, but Leo 'belongs' then, he has a position, an importance and he believes "luck was in love with me, like everyone else."
The novel's conclusion sees Leo back at Brandham in adulthood, embarking on a final "errand of love", still the go-between, bringing people together in an effort to make them happy and in an attempt to make himself whole.
What did you think of the book?
You can sense the forthcoming doom right from the beginning with the theme of heat and humidity, the references to temperatures, which never quite reach 100F and those hot-houses that Cornflower refers to.
I think this is an excellent book, but I'm going to say right now that it made me really rather angry. Not I hasten to say because of any lack in the writing but because of those ghastly limitations imposed on the protagonists by their silly views of class, wealth, education and propriety. At the inevitable end, when the Water Carrier and the Virgin are discovered coupled together in sexual intercourse and poor Ted goes of to "do the decent thing" I was gnashing my teeth in frustration and dismay. It is of course the skill of Hartley that a book should arouse passions in its readers and my response to this one is unusual so full marks to the author here.
Oh how that young woman Marian needed love, passion and sex rather than wealth, privilege and a title.
Silly, silly doomed people. Poor Leo, horrid (but I have some sympathy for he is a product of his environment) stuck-up Marcus.
An great choice and it comes complete with an excellent description of a village cricket match too. Well done Cornflower!
Posted by: Dark Puss | 24 July 2010 at 11:36 AM
I saw the film many years ago - thanks for the stimulus to read the book. I found a well written novel with lots of atmosphere and tension. I enjoyed the read & couldn't put it down.
Some of the plot seemed a bit strained, such as Leo's mother not agreeing to his request to come home, given her previous characterisation. I was not totally convinced by Leo's secret role being hidden from his friend Marcus, who was his key to fitting into the strange upper class environment.
Leo's bewitchment by Marian and torment when he had suspicions that he was being used by her was the highlight for me.
My edition had an introduction by Douglas Brooks-Davies, who found a a myriad of meanings in the text, which I must confess entirely escaped me. (I read the intro after the fact as usual!). I guess I have a long way to go ....
Posted by: Sandy | 24 July 2010 at 12:25 PM
I found The Go-Between a very fitting read for a hot summer. Like Dark Puss, I felt that the theme of increasing heat was building up to some kind of explosion and through out the read was waiting for “something to happen”. I was aware of the adults using Leo as their messenger and felt Leo was reaching a point when he realized that he was being involved in an unsuitable relationship which his child’s mind thought would cease if he went away. This part concerned me as Leo was aware of adult deception and could not tell anyone even his mother had not responded to his letter. After I finished the book, I re-read the Prologue finding more meaning in it. I thought about the part of Leo’s twelve –year –old self and his reproach to the older Leo. What would all our youthful selves say to us now?
I also found that the introduction lost me a bit. This was a most enjoyable book portraying Edwardian society among the upper classes. By the way, I would now like to see the film.
Posted by: Anne | 24 July 2010 at 01:34 PM
I would also like to see the film. And then maybe reread. I found it interesting that Ted was thinking suicide earlier in the story. His was the only character that I felt some sympathy for. I didn't like Leo until the end of the book where I felt he redeemed himself.
An excellent book though. And one I would not have happened to pick off of the library shelves by chance.
Posted by: jodi | 24 July 2010 at 01:58 PM
Jodi, as an inveterate library user who often takes books completely at random, I was interested in your closing sentence. Why wouldn't you have happened to pick off of the library shelves by chance.?
Posted by: Dark Puss | 24 July 2010 at 04:43 PM
As we are suffering through a terrible heatwave here in New Jersey, I was interested in how Leo associated with the weather and was always encouraged by the high temperatures.
I enjoyed this read of a young man lost who is attempting to please those around him. I found Leo a sympathetic character and was fascinated by how he tried to read the people who were not quite in the same social strata as he was. A month can be a long time to be visiting a new household.
My one problem with the book was that although the entire experience was traumatic, I found it difficult to believe that his life would have been different if it had not happened.
As I frequently turn to new books in my reading life, I was glad to have the book group as the impetus to read this engrossing story.
Posted by: Loretta | 24 July 2010 at 04:54 PM
Reading The Go-Between while I was in the midst of my own sweltering summer vacation was a special treat.
Though the "forbidden love" storyline was quite a conventional one (beautiful, aristocratic young woman falls for rough, common young stud: nothing new here), I really enjoyed seeing the situation through the eyes of a 12 year-old boy. Hartley has drawn a masterful portrait of that confusing, in between time when children try to transition into the world of adults. Leo negotiates his way through the social minefields as best he can (with the help of some delusional dabblings in the dark arts), but his innocence, gullibility and eagerness to win favour make him the perfect pawn for the romantic protagonists.
I found the interactions between Leo and Marcus especially amusing. These friends are eager to prove to each other that they are tough, canny and sophisticated men. But they're still just confused, immature children, with some very funny ideas about the adult world (spooning!)
Though I generally dislike tidy endings, I did enjoy the fact that Leo resumes his messenger role, acting as a go-between Marian and the man in her life (this time, her grandson).
A great summer reading choice! I'm looking forward to participating in the next cornflower discussion.
Posted by: Nicole | 24 July 2010 at 05:09 PM
Dark Puss,
I'm not sure that the title or the cover of the book would have peaked my interest. Also it was not an author that I had heard of before. Which is why I'm enjoying this book group.
Posted by: jodi | 24 July 2010 at 05:10 PM
I liked it. What with one thing and another it took me ages to read but it was the sort of book that I could pick up and resume easily. I liked the way it pulled you in at the beginning, i.e. coming across a box with an old diary and then completing it with an Epilogue.
I have often heard it said of women "you never know where you are with them." This book is a sensitively written account of a twelve-year - well, nearly thirteen - year old's experience of the opposite sex and how perplexing it all was. "Ted had frightened me more, perhaps, but she [Marian] had hurt me more; with men, as with boys, I knew more or less where I was.... "
I liked it as a period piece. I always enjoy discoveries wee gems:
[1] Marian, sitting at the piano, dog-eared the page of music Ted handed to her at the concert. I had never come across "dog-eared" used as a verb, i.e. to turn it down at the corner. Now with music it is standard practice in order to have the page(s) ready for turning. Otherwise I always think of dog-eared as an adjective meaning bashed about or possibly torn pages. Of course, we talk about people looking dog-eared, i.e. shabby.
[2] Roger de Coverley dance - I was interested to learn that this is an English country dance reminiscent of a fox going in and out of cover, something like the Virginia Reel. [Wikipedia]
[3] Lastly, I loved the last section where he came back and found Marian after a lapse of many years. "We talked a little of my journey and of what I had done in life; both subjects were easily disposed of. For conversational purpose, an ounce of incident is worth a pound of routine progress ....". Quite so!
Posted by: Barbara MacLeod | 24 July 2010 at 06:02 PM
Thank you Jodi for taking the time to reply. I suggest trying my technique of completely random chosing from the library shelves when you don't risk any cash. Sometimes I take books back after only 20 pages, but I have found some wonderful books this way.
Posted by: Dark Puss | 24 July 2010 at 06:47 PM
Coming to this book club meeting a little late, I find myself nodding my head in agreement with many of the comments already stated, not needing to add my own similar thoughts. I especially liked Dark Puss' insightful comments regarding the protagonists' "silly views of class, wealth, education and propriety."
I heaved a sigh of relief to see that I was not the only one left "a bit lost" by the introduction by Douglas Brook Davies! Speaking of this edition (Penguin Modern Classics), when did it ever become correct for footnotes to contain spoilers? (Ted's suicide!)At first I thought of skipping the footnotes, their being located at the back of the book instead of at the FOOT of the pages where footnotes belong, but I changed my mind, thinking I might be missing out on something important. My bad.
Even knowing it was to come, I felt that Ted's response to being caught out (suicide) was over the top. I must have been snoozing during the part where Ted is contemplating suicide. Could someone who has my edition point out the passage(s) to me?
To me, considering the era(see the Dark Puss quote above), it might have made more sense if Marian, the female "guilty" party, committed suicide out of shame, but she seems to have come out of the episode smelling like a rose.
Although I enjoyed the book immensely, I do have a couple of other bones to pick with it. Like Loretta, I felt that "although the entire experience was traumatic, I found it difficult to believe that his (Leo's) life would have been different if it had not happened."
I also don't think that Edwardian boys age 12-13 were that sexually innocent.
Cornflower, what an excellent pick to read during steamy summer days!
Posted by: Julie Fredericksen | 24 July 2010 at 07:36 PM
I apologize for misspeaking when I put Leo in the Edwardian age instead of at the end of the Victorian age. I have recently read three books set in English manor houses at the beginning of the 20th Century, thus my confusion. But I still hold by my original statement!
Posted by: Julie Fredericksen | 24 July 2010 at 07:45 PM
Men and women, adults and children, rulers and ruled, self-aware and unselfconscious, duty and desire; this work sets up an intertwined cats' cradle of tensions then expertly plays on them. There are some imperfections: Marcus is rather too obviously used as a mouthpiece for the crasser forms of snobbishness, for example. Yet I did not find that Ted was about the only sympathetic character; Trimingham and Mr Maudsley are both seen as decent people within the constraints of their roles - for Trimingham to have married Marian when she was bearing Ted's child was, for a man of his class in the year 1900, almost Quixotically noble.
An excellent choice of book.
Posted by: Mr Cornflower | 24 July 2010 at 10:32 PM
I found this story very compelling reading, though one sensed from the beginning that things were going to turn very bad indeed. As the mother of a 13 year old son, it was interesting to read the story from Leo's perspective. The competition between the boys and their banter was quite believable. The use or misuse of Leo was disturbing to me and as a result, many of the adults were not very sympathetic characters. A fine choice this month, Madame Cornflower!
Posted by: Lisa W | 25 July 2010 at 02:42 AM
Julie writes: "Even knowing it was to come, I felt that Ted's response to being caught out (suicide) was over the top. I must have been snoozing during the part where Ted is contemplating suicide."
I had the same reaction to Ted's suicide. It really bugged me too. I felt it was an easy way for the author to get "rid" of him. I wonder though if it really would be more believable if Marian had been the one to commit suicide? She seems awfully entitled throughout the book and is never inclined to hold herself accountable for her actions (right to the very end, she whitewashes her treatment of Leo, for example).
Posted by: Nicole | 25 July 2010 at 03:20 AM
(sorry, meant to put Julie's comments in italics)
Posted by: Nicole | 25 July 2010 at 03:21 AM
Nicole, you're right in your assessment that Marian never held herself accountable. I was thinking more in terms of men and women in general - it would be the Victorian woman who would usually bear the greater shame at being caught in flagrante delicto.
Posted by: Julie Fredericksen | 25 July 2010 at 03:41 AM
Yes, this also struck me as odd, the fact that Marian didn't seem to suffer the consequences of her actions despite the rather strict social morals of the time. Trimingham goes ahead and marries her despite her scandalous affair. This to me reinforces this sense that she is above it all. Perhaps her beauty and guile are so enchanting that she has everyone wrapped around her little finger? (well, with the exception of the formidable matriarch, Mrs Maudsley)
Posted by: Nicole | 25 July 2010 at 05:03 AM
This book has been sitting on my shelves far too long ... having seen the film (and loved it) many years ago, I must now read the book.
I would add that it was reading this book, set in a very hot summer, that Juliet Nicolson wondered if there had been a summer just like that? and on delving into records found that there had been. It was this very book which set her train of thought in motion which resulted in her excellent book, The Perfect Summer - Dancing into Shadow in 1911. This book I HAVE read and certainly recommend it.
Posted by: Margaret Powling | 25 July 2010 at 12:56 PM
I too was going to mention the connection Juliet Nicolson makes between 'The Go-Between' and the summer of 1911 in her very enjoyable and informative book 'The Perfect Summer'.
When I last read 'The Go-Between', perhaps five years ago, I was left with a powerful feeling that the author (about whom I knew nothing) must have experienced some treachery at the hands of adults when he was young and that it was this experience which eventually fuelled his ability several decades later to write with such painful intensity about childhood innocence betrayed.
I felt the same reading it again recently and so decided to find out what I could about L. P. Hartley on the internet. Colm Toibin provided just what I wanted in his introduction to the edition published by the New York Review of Books in 2002.
In spite of having read 'The Go-Between' twice before I was surprised by the existence and content of both Prologue and Epilogue.
The Prologue makes it so plain that the events the narrator is going to relate had devastating and lifelong effects, probably of a sexual nature... 'Had it not been for the diary .... I should not be sitting alone.'
In the Epilogue Leo says that as a result of the events at Brandham he exchanges the worlds of experience and imagination for the world of facts. 'Indeed the life of facts proved no bad substitute for the facts of life' and his skill in marshalling facts saves him from active service in the First World War.
"...So I missed that experience, along with many others, spooning among them. Ted hadn't told me what it was, but he had shown me, he had paid with his life for showing me, and after that never felt like it."
And so, knowing how the events at Brandham had ruined his sexual, emotional and imaginative life, I wonder how Leo can restrain himself from rage when the elderly Marian says things like this to him:
"'But every man should get married - you ought to have got married, Leo, you're all dried up inside, I can tell that ...Don't you feel any need of love?'"
"'Ted and I were lovers ... But we weren't ordinary lovers ... Our love was a beautiful thing, wasn't it?'"
"'And wouldn't you feel proud to be descended from our union? The child of so much happiness and beauty?' What could I say but yes?'"
Well he could have said no and I for one wish he had because Marian reveals herself to be among the most monstrous females one could have the misfortune to meet at any time - either in fiction or history. By re-writing her personal story to suit her own version of events she perpetrates more and more enormities.
And although it's satisfying for the reader to have things tied up at the end of a book I nevertheless feel a certain amount of moral discomfort with the ending of this one. Marian is so egregiously awful and yet still Leo goes on doing her bidding.
Admittedly his final performance as go-between is meant to have a beneficial outcome and it's good to know that Ted Burgess lives on in that spuriously aristocratic grandson of his.
I think most readers would feel some affection for Ted in spite of the fact he makes use of Leo as do almost all the other adults in one way or another. And so on a first reading of this novel I think one is likely to regret his suicide and to feel that blowing his brains out all over his kitchen was rather an unnecessary and excessive response to the 'catastrophe'.
Yet the older Leo tells us that Ted 'was the only one who had a true impulse of contrition.' I think Ted blows his brains out because of shame. Shame, not in relation to the Maudsley family, or shame at having been caught behaving like one of his own farm animals (fornicating as my mother-in-law would have said) but shame in relation to Leo. Ted knows the damage he and Marian have done to Leo. And damage is what this book is about.
Posted by: Sarah Bussy | 25 July 2010 at 02:21 PM
Sarah -
You say Ted blew his brains out because of
"shame in relation to Leo. Ted knows the damage he and Marian have done to Leo." That IS an explanation for Ted's suicide that is more plausible and more acceptable to me.
Posted by: Julie Fredericksen | 25 July 2010 at 06:14 PM
Julie, plausibility I think I may agree with, though I've been a bit too close to people who have tried to kill themselves to agree unreservedly, but why do you find it "more acceptable"?
Posted by: Dark Puss | 25 July 2010 at 07:27 PM
Running behind here and missed commenting yesterday. I enjoyed this much more than I thought I would. I had read somewhere (here?) that this book was the inspiration for Ian McEwan's Atonement, which I read earlier this year and found good, but not knock-me-down great. So, I was prepared to be disappointed, but wasn't at all. I loved the story from the boy's perspective having a boy not to far from 12, but I agree with many others who've said that Ted's suicide seemed a little over the top. I have to agree with the earlier comment that it made it easier to wrap up the story with him out of the way like that. It was definitely a fitting read as the thermometer here is hovering around 100!
Thanks again, Cornflower!
Posted by: Susan in TX | 25 July 2010 at 09:29 PM
I should have said "more plausible and THEREFORE more acceptable to me". In other words, I didn't find believable the theory that he killed himself merely because he was ashamed to have been caught having sex with Marian.
Posted by: Julie Fredericksen | 26 July 2010 at 12:13 AM
Thank you Julie for that clarification.
Posted by: Dark Puss | 26 July 2010 at 09:46 AM
Oh, Susan, how interesting! Thanks for mentioning the connection to "Atonement". I thought about that book several times while I was reading The Go-Between! I also enjoyed the Hartley book more.
Posted by: Nicole | 26 July 2010 at 12:59 PM
I think it anachronistic to be critical of 'those ghastly limitations imposed on the protagonists by their silly views of class, wealth, education and propriety'.
Hartley was giving us an authentic picture of life as it had been lived by a previous generation. People of all generations have restrictions imposed upon them; the restrictions merely vary from generation to generation.
Apparently Hartley was convinced that the England of his youth and the later years of Queen Victoria's reign had embodied a unique form of social perfection for which he never ceased to long.
And so I find it ironic that in describing that longed-for world at Brandham Hall he apparently can't help revealing a social world that is deeply flawed and unattractive. The lives people lead at Brandham Hall are generally pointless, petty, empty and hypocritical.
Posted by: Sarah Bussy | 26 July 2010 at 03:27 PM
Sarah, I agree with you completely. In my earlier comment I should have made it clear that it is my view that their views were silly rather than imply that Hartley was not giving us an authentic picture of the social mores at the time of the story.
Posted by: Dark Puss | 26 July 2010 at 03:38 PM
Gosh, italics...!
I thought this book was very good - the only sporting match, in or out of fiction, that has engaged me ever. That cricket was so tense! And I think Hartley's 'take' on an affair was very clever - plus he really conveyed the boy's sense of awkwardness - I can still feel the prickly heat of his inappropriately heavy clothes, and his embarrassment.
The film I thought was quite good, but also very ponderous, and not really the same spirit of the novel.
Posted by: Simon T | 27 July 2010 at 10:47 AM
Have I stopped the italics? If I did it is because someone omitted the correct HTML end tag and I started this post with it. I guess one could do some silly (nasty?) things to subsequent posts with a bit of thought and appropriate HTML skills.
Posted by: Dark Puss | 27 July 2010 at 04:01 PM
Sorry, I missed this book group session, though I read the novel years ago and have seen the film several times. I couldn't find a copy here at home which annoyed me. But I dimly remember thinking that the reason Leo was alone at the end was that the whole incident put him off romance, particularly romance with females. I was so young when I read this book the first time I didn't fully understand the implications of the incident in the barn, so I can easily believe that a twelve year old of that era would unaware of the facts of life.
Posted by: Susie Vereker | 31 July 2010 at 09:22 AM