J. B. Priestley (1894–1984)

This carefully crafted book is a master class in how to write a convincing argument that will retain a middle class reader's interest by never descending to polemic. Priestly lays before everyone, especially those of his readers who really would prefer not to know, that a terrible social injustice had been done to those people who made and extracted the wealth that made Britain an economic titan.
The further Priestly ventures on his journey, the greater the deprivation uncovered - so that by show more the time he reaches Tyneside and the Durham collieries we are truly aware of the calamitous state of workers shut out of works that have become defunct as a result of the Great Depression. (The journey took place in 1933).
Perhaps it ought to be read alongside George Orwell's "The Road to Wigan Pier" and "Down and Out in Paris and London", both of which books tackle the subject as a political failure. Priestly demands of his readers that they be woken up to a human tragedy in their own land, amongst their own people, and take action that would relieve it. Unfortunately, this didn't happen, the situation only being altered by the country rearming and preparing for war.
My copy of this book is a Jubilee Edition (1984), and contains 80 black and white photographs which speak to the failure of will and decency, where working families lived in mean hovels in towns unfit to be called such.
I thought I wouldn't like this book, but I remembered the human warmth that is the foundation of Priestley's "Angel Pavement", and found this endearing aspect of his writing present here. show less

I read this play knowing nothing about it other than it involved a police inspector calling in on a well-to-do family dinner party and asking about a crime. What preconceptions I had led me to consider the story to be like Agatha Christie’s stories.

I was wrong. This play was much more serious and deals with the abuse of vulnerable people in society by the better off.

This play was, and is, a wake up call for any of us who look down on people less well-off than ourselves, or who are rude and show more arrogant to others.

While today’s society and its greater awareness of human rights and labour protection laws date the play and prevent some of the blatant abuse described, there are still valuable lessons for society in the three acts of this work. show less

I've just been reading South Riding and Odette Keun's description of London in the thirties, so this seemed a good moment to have a look at Priestley's take on the English provinces in the depression years.

What's immediately striking to anyone used to more recent travel writing is how constructed it all is. For one thing, his inimitable voice (as with Dickens, it feels as though it's being read aloud even when it's on the printed page); for another, the careful arrangement of his route and show more the subjects he covers, all cunningly arranged to build up to his key chapters on Gateshead and the Durham pit villages. He uses a whole battery of stage and pulpit tricks to keep our attention and sympathy: By arguing like a convinced but reasonable local preacher rather than with the hectoring voice of a politician or journalist, he makes sure that his middle-class readers never get the feeling that they're being sucked into red revolution. We scarcely even notice the point where he gets fed up with taking local buses and whistles up a chauffeur to drive him the rest of the way, or the ever-so-slightly symbolic return to a fog-bound London from which the rest of the country is invisible...

So, what is he saying? Essentially, he seems to be warning his readers that England is losing the respect for individual human values that he sees as its chief strength as a country. People should not be ranting in the newspapers against "benefit scroungers" or refugees; they should be out there working with the unemployed to rebuild self-respect and give lives some meaning. Towns should not be grim and functional, there should be theatres and music and places for young people to ogle each other, even on Sundays. And hotels should provide decent food and adequate quantities of hot water, and there should be devolution of power to the English regions...

His idea of the "three Englands" in the final chapter is interesting: he sees modern England as a superposition of "Merrie England"; Victorian Muck and Brass; and bright thirties modernity. His fear is that the elements that are coming to dominate are the pointless luxury of the first, the heartless utilitarianism of the second, and the brash, mass-produced, transatlantic(*) political apathy and lack of culture of the third.

Strange to reflect that he was writing eighty years ago, really! Not that much has changed: industrial Britain is still scraping itself up after the 19th century; London still doesn't quite realise that there's anything beyond the M25. Food has perhaps got a little bit better; poverty and unemployment are still around, but perhaps hit people in different ways; and Priestley might have felt inclined to revise his comments about the beneficial effects of the tobacco industry. Seeing post-WWI Bradford deprived of the colour and variety it got from its German-Jewish community provoked him into a pro-immigration rant; I hope that he wouldn't have been pushed the other way by seeing the city as it is now...

(*) Like most British intellectuals, Priestley seems to have been very fond of America when he went there, but affected to hate "American" intrusions into British cultural life. show less

I was schooled in France, and so I had never heard of J.B. Priestley before. In fact, it's my oldest son (14 at the time of reading) who had to read 'An Inspector Calls' for school, and, since I make a point to read with my kids, I picked this up too to read along. Well, I wasn't disappointed!

His work -at least the ones presented here- had me truly engrossed. 'An Inspector Calls' is a enthralling murder mystery, where a family will be torn apart following the suicide of a young woman. It's show more very tense, claustrophobic, cruel, and, above all, a terrible indictment against class society and its consequences, especially for those at the bottom of the social ladder. Priestley, of course, was a socialist, and so, of course, as a socialist his opinions could be very scathing towards the upper classes of his time (the Edwardian era). But, it doesn't have to be read this way only. In fact, I found it to be still very relevant, although, again, harsh, since it exposes human nature at its worse. The Edwardian era may be over, but selfishness, egotism, lack of empathy, and the profound sense of entitlement that can come with privilege are far from being so. There are people like that indeed, even in our time, and these people, like Mr Birling here, can hold very powerful and influential positions... I loved this play, also, because it has a eerie feel to it, particularly when it comes to the ending. It renders it even more unsettling.

His other works available here are 'Time and the Conways', 'I Have Been Here Before', and 'The Linden Tree'. Tackling their plots would be to spoil them, so I won't. Suffice to say that I was greatly surprised (especially after reading 'An Inspector Calls' first...) to see how skilful the author is when it comes to a complete different genre: science-fiction. There is an overwhelming sense of tragic fate, it can be metaphysical, it deals with free will, and, most importantly, time itself. As someone who love sci-fi, then, here too, I was captivated by his narrative, and fascinated by how thought provoking they can be.

A classic writer, that I am glad I have finally discovered! show less