My first book from the British Library's Women Writers series (for which the excellent Simon is series consultant and writer of the Afterword) is Rose Macaulay's Dangerous Ages, a family study originally published in 1921.
It covers four generations from Gerda in her early 20s to her great-grandmother, Grandmamma, 60 years older, taking in Gerda's mother, Neville, her aunt, Nan, and her grandmother Mrs. Hilary. The men of the family are dead or largely absent and need not concern the reader, but the women are an interesting bunch, each in her own way trying to reconcile her ideals with her reality, and make more of her future than she has done of her past.
Of them all, Grandmamma is the most settled. She has led a fulfilling life and now eases into her last years, comfortable and content. Mrs. Hilary, widowed and in her early 60s, hovers over her long grown-up children, anxious for their wellbeing but all too willing to try to direct their lives. She is the least grounded of the five, bored and directionless, turning in the end to psychoanalysis not so much as a means to greater happiness but as a chance to talk about herself to a willing listener. Neville, now in her 40s, happily married to an MP but with little of significance to do, seeks to recommence the medical studies she gave up years earlier. Her sister Nan is ten years younger and toys with life, but there's a streak of bitter emptiness within her which recalls her mother, Mrs. Hilary, and her brittle nature is especially evident, if not to say poignant, when things don't go her own way. Gerda is serious and sure of herself, but she finds that even the clear-sightedness and confidence of youth aren't enough to tackle life head on and walk away unscathed.
For all that it was written a hundred years ago, Dangerous Ages - "all ages are dangerous to all people in this dangerous life we live" - is a timeless story, remarkably modern even. At its heart, this lively and enjoyable story of family dynamics is about self-realisation, frustration, and recognition, and the need to live wisely and well, not least to avoid the existential bankruptcy of the carelessly 'overspent'. It's a lesson to us all.