A. J. Cronin (1896–1981)

"If we go on trying to make out that everything's wrong outside the profession and everything is right within, it means the death of scientific progress."

First published in 1937 and set during the interwar years 'The Citadel' shines a light on the medical establishment in Britain at the time through the eyes of a young newly qualified Scottish doctor. Andrew Manson, takes up his first clinical post as an assistant to a GP in a small Welsh mining community where disease and poverty is rife, show more sanitation poor and operations are performed on kitchen tables before moving as his career progresses to the fashionable, greedy world of London with its private clinics, hypochondriac patients and rich awards. Manson arrives with a bagful of enthusiasm and idealism but soon comes face to face with the realism of his chosen profession.

Archibald Joseph Cronin was born in Cardross, Dunbartonshire, in 1896, and was destined either for the Church or medicine: he chose medicine. Cronin trained in various hospitals in Scotland, Dublin and South Wales. He was appointed as a Medical Inspector of Mines and reported on coal-dust inhalation and lung disease before subsequently moving to London and private practice. This novel is therefore semi-autobiographical in nature as he draws on his professional career as a background.

The novel has two specific areas of emphasis. Firstly, the work of the doctor in a poor community and how his work is transformed when he moves to a city and private practice. Secondly the competence, or incompetence, of doctors and their need to keep their skills up to date. Manson is often critical of the quality of other doctors' work.

In the small Welsh mining village, the men, as miners, can change doctors through a company insurance scheme whenever they wish, their choices often based on the doctor's own popularity rather than his ability. Manson is outspoken and critical of the way in which the service is funded which lands him in trouble.

But the climax comes when Manson is asked to treat the daughter of an old friend who has tuberculosis. Manson has her admitted to an established London hospital but when the treatment provided there shows no signs of benefit he recommends a new therapy. His senior disagrees and Manson removes his young patient to a newly built hospital with an un-medically qualified boss. However, despite the success of the treatment and his patient's subsequent discharge, when Manson’s London colleagues hear about this he is referred to the General Medical Council (GMC) to be investigated with the potential outcome of him being struck off the Medical Register.

In many respects this novel is a creature of its time. Cronin identified many of the issues in clinical practice which needed to be tackled , including better supervision of young doctors, postgraduate education programmes and the novel's popularity along with the cinematic portrayal helped towards the establishment of the NHS a decade or so later. However, some of the issues, in particular affordability, are still relevant today.

This isn't perhaps great literature. Manson despite his revolutionary zeal isn't always a particularly likeable character, he is often, selfish, arrogant and uncaring, but Cronin still manages to present an interesting and entertaining story. I am always interested in novels that feature social history and this book had the power to change public attitudes and behaviour towards health as well as professional thinking and for that reason alone deserves to be more widely read today. show less

Three Loves is A. J. Cronin's second novel, first published in 1932. It tells the engrossing, ultimate tragic, story of the three loves of Lucy Moore -- her husband, her son, and God.
Into all three relationships, Lucy brings the same monumental pride, bull-headed obstinance, and self-defeating melodrama that lead to her ultimate downfall. Life gives Lucy some hard knocks, but it is hard to feel sorry for her when she antagonizes all those who try to help her.

It is Lucy’s stubborn hostility show more that makes this book more interesting than the typical family drama. Although she is not likeable, she inspires some sympathy because she means well in her monomaniacal way. Like with a Greek tragedy, it is hard to tear away even when the tragic end is so apparently inevitable.

The book is fairly long -- over 550 pages -- but moves right along with plenty of action, plot, and conflict among the characters. Some of the attitudes and assumptions of the characters are a little dated, but with illegitimate children, adultery, violent death, lesbianism, insanity, social injustice, and Church hypocrisy, there is nothing stodgy about the story.

Cronin was a prolific mid-century author who wrote more than 20 novels, many which were made into movies or television shows. Judging from Three Loves, it is easy to see why he was so popular.

Also posted on Rose City Reader. show less

I can enjoy vintage fiction works that have something important to say, even when the writing styles may be dated—as is the case with this classic novel. What's more, it isn't a short or fast-paced read, but Andrew's experiences in the first phases had me interested enough to see where his journey would go.

It was something to watch his idealist's eyes open to lamentable realities concerning the state of the medical field he'd entered. Then with the thickening of the plot, the heightening show more of the conflict, and my growing care for some of the characters, I truly became invested.

And I appreciate a flawed protagonist; it isn't my thing for lead characters to come off as virtually perfect. Still, during the phase when Andrew changes into a fairly colossal jerk, although the author does show the gradual process of Andrew's reasoning and how he justifies himself on his way down, I found it a little hard to put up with his jerkiness and keep reading.

Also, I'm not a fan of the story's handling of the character Christine, ultimately, or how some critical matters play out in her marriage to Andrew. A big part of the issue may come down to this 1937 novel being a product of its period, as the author aimed to write a morality tale during a time when the culture/media promoted certain "wifely ideals."

On a different note, while the instances of more colorful language are left to the reader's imagination, I'd say that as the characters' uses of "damn" and "hell" in their nonliteral senses eventually increased, they became repetitive to the point of excess.

Nevertheless, I was sure that Andrew's journey as a man and as a doctor would come around in this story that, again, has something important and meaningful to say—including something about the folly of valuing, defending, and upholding institutions for their own sake while lacking or losing what should be the institutions' real concerns: human lives and wellbeing.

Plus, the reading made me curious to watch the 1983 British television mini series based on the novel. So! We'll see how that goes.

(Does that screen adaptation handle Christine's character any differently? Just asking. If you happen to know the answer—don't tell me.) show less

Song of Sixpence is a coming of age story set in Scotland early in the 20th century. Laurence Carroll grows up, sort of always on the outside, his father being Irish Catholic, and people in their community treating them a bit like pariahs. At times, when the opportunity for social advancement arose, he would shun the few friends he had out of shame and embarrassment, only to find it was not worth it. Life takes some rough turns, as when his father died from galloping consumption, or when his show more and his mother's benefactor had institutionalized for insanity. He believed all of his dreams of the future were dashed. He was often very naive, and would be taken in by less than scrupulous people, but it all works out in the end.
I did enjoy reading this older book (published 1964) and could understand his choices in spite of wanting to draw him aside and say "Look here Laurie, that is not the smartest decision", but I imagine in the past, some of my elders thought the same about some of my poor judgements. show less