John Coates (1) (1912–1963)

It's clear right from the start of Patience that our leading lady is a rather downtrodden wife, even if she hasn't yet realised it. She's appropriately named, and she regards herself as happily married until the day her self-righteous brother comes to tell her that he's seen her husband Edward with another woman. Patience's world has revolved around Edward and her home and "the babies" and, to be fair, he's a kindly tyrant, pompous and unimaginative. Her brother Lionel is much more show more immediately loathsome, solely concerned with the fact that Edward is committing Sin - he doesn't really care about Patience as a wronged wife, but busies himself with Edward's "spiritual welfare" and worries that the children will be disgraced if they don't have a father. Lionel has already more or less disowned his other sister, Helen, because she got divorced -- she has remarried and had a child, but Lionel refers to him as a bastard. Lionel is a staunch Catholic, Patience a rather less fanatical one, but sincere, and Helen is lapsed, of course. But Edward's infidelity is only really a catalyst for the events which follow, leading to a what should prove a shattering discovery for Patience. Only it isn't, quite -- it's not nearly as earth-shattering as some of the other discoveries Patience is about to make. And to her, they are really much more interesting....

As befits its title, Patience is a very quiet book. There was a point, reading it, where I stopped and thought "This is written by a man!" In fact, I had to look back at the cover to be certain. Because although it's also very funny, it is very delicately so, and Patience's at time bemused but nonetheless gratified exploration of her thoughts and feelings is handled with a gentle irony and deftness. Compared, say, to Denis Mackail, of whom I am exceedingly fond, this is a much more subtle work, with the quality of a fable about it.

I see, however, that some readers have found Patience as a character irritatingly naive and passive in her seven-year marriage and self-absorbed in her desire to extricate herself. Hmm. I can't say I agree -- yes, she is an absolute innocent and has been very complacent thus far in her life, but I saw that as more to do with the period. It's difficult, from the twenty-first century, to appreciate just how sheltered an upbringing could still be, in the 1950s, when a girl could go straight from living at home with mummy and daddy to a husband who expected to be the authority in his home. And to those who find it too pat that she instantly falls for someone, well, I'm still a believer in love at first sight, and this is, after all, a comedy. show less

I know it's awfully uncharitable of me, but I was rather hoping that, between the cold baths and the gadding about in the park half-dressed, dear Patience would have succumbed to pneumonia. I'm sure I was meant to be charmed by her delightful naivete, but all I really wanted to do was smack her.

After making her name with Northanger Abbey, Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, but before writing Mansfield Park, Emma or Persuasion, Jane Austen started a story about a family by the name of Watson. She never returned to finish this work in progress, completing only the first six chapters, but the unfinished manuscript has been tantalising Janeites ever since her nephew published the fragment in 1871. Coates himself acknowledges two earlier versions, and the dreaded Joan Aiken show more took a stab at the novel in 1996, so the field is open and the guidelines are limited to Austen's opening chapters, but I need search no further: The Watsons by John Coates is a delight.

The basic premise of the original story will be fairly familiar to anyone who has read at least one of Austen's books. Emma - renamed Emily by Coates, to avoid confusion with her successor, Miss Woodhouse - is the daughter of an impoverished and ailing clergyman, who has been struggling to raise his children since the death of his wife. With three older sisters at home, Emily herself was farmed out to a wealthy aunt at a young age, and the story begins with her return to the parsonage in Surrey after her aunt's hasty second marriage. The eldest daughter, Elizabeth, is caring and motherly, but at nearly thirty has given her own youth to raising her brothers and sisters. Penelope, who reminds me a lot of Mary Crawford in Mansfield Park, has also been staying with friends, but comes home to get to know Emily. Margaret is a manipulative diva reminiscent of Lydia in P+P, and there are also two grown and independent brothers, Robert - married to the very Eltonish Jane - and Sam the young doctor. Not surprisingly, with so many offspring, Mr Watson spends most of the time hiding in his room. (An early essay by Dr Chapman suggested that The Watsons is actually an early draft of Emma, but Elizabeth is the doting daughter, not Emily, in this case.) At the start of the seventh chapter, where Austen put down her pen for Coates to resume the story, the family has been introduced to the reader, and Emily meets three potential suitors at a ball. The Darcy-esque Lord Osborne, who lives in a castle with his forthright mother and sister, Osborne's tutor and friend Mr Howard, and the local flirt Tom Musgrave all take a shine to the new attraction, but Emily is drawn to only one man. Who will she marry?

There is really no telling how Austen would have continued the story, but she could surely find no fault in the style or fidelity of Mr Coates' continuation. At times, I had to keep reminding myself that the bulk of the narrative was actually written a good 150 years after Austen abandoned her work in progress! Coates captures the cadence, pace and even the humour of the original, and manages to coax a cast of endearing characters out of the briefest introductions. As with Austen's own novels, I took a while to make sense of all the names and relationships, but about midway through, everything suddenly came together and I fell in love. Emily is nothing like Emma Woodhouse, but neither is she another Fanny Price, a fate that Mr Coates thankfully saved her from, and Penelope is great fun - she says what she thinks, and has a very droll, teasing sense of humour. I also loved the growing friendship between the two sisters, who have grown up apart and barely know each other. Of the three suitors, I preferred Lord Osborne, but Coates keeps his readers guessing right until the final chapters, and all of the sisters find a suitable match in the end. Osborne's mother and Mr Howard's young nephew are two more brilliant creations who really come to life in the capable hands of Mr Coates.

Although Jane Austen gave up on The Watsons, I am eternally grateful that John Coates did not. Now I have another entertaining addition to complement the original classics, and fuel my love of all things Austen! show less

This the story of 28 year-old Patience Gathorne-Galley. She’s a good Catholic girl, independently wealthy with a husband, Edward, and three little girls, Star, Sue and Sal.

But Patience is an innocent, hopelessly naive.

She relies on her siblings for advice. Lionel is a good devout Catholic, whose wife’s desertion hasn’t shaken his faith one iota. Helen, on the other hand, is a lapsed Catholic, living in sin with an Anglican solicitor.

Ah yes, SIN. That word is writ large in all their show more lives. Lionel takes the avoidance of sin terribly seriously. Helen is rather more sanguine, but she hasn’t completely lost the values she was raised with. And Patience knew that sin was a very bad thing that she really should avoid.

She really was that naive, a young woman passed directly from her parents to her husband with no chance at all to look at the world around her.

She was surprised when Lionel told her that Edward had a mistress. He was a good, reliable husband, and why ever would a woman want to go to bed with a man when it wasn’t her marital duty?

Yes, there was a story waiting to happen here. And happen it did.

Patience met a man. Phillip. She fell in love. And in lust.

“She understood in a sort of flash of revelation almost everything Lionel had ever told her. It really was different getting into bed with someone who wasn’t your husband. And no wonder Lionel was so anxious no one should begin, because once having begun, and knowing how lovely it was, one would find it very difficult to stop.”

When she confided in Helen her sister assured her that it wasn’t just the fact that Phillip wasn’t her husband that made the difference. And then Patience knew that her future had to be spent with Phillip and her babies. But however could she disentangle herself from Edward and not fall into sin?

Patience’s attempts to do that, to reach her happy ending, make this a charming comedy of manners It sails along beautifully, with lovely dialogue batted back and forth by beautifully drawn characters.

I could see them and I could hear their voices. I could imagine actors on a stage having wonderful fun with this material too.

John Coates captures the feminine psyche extraordinarily well. I am inclined to believe that he was brought up with sisters, and that maybe he had a colourful aunt or two. But that’s just speculation, so let’s just say he understands women.

He writes beautifully too, with a light touch, with a lovely turn of phrase, and with just the right amount of wit.

I found that I could even forgive Patience’s habit of addressing everyone as ‘dear!’

Patience’s faith, and the problems created by the differences between church and secular law, provided a serious thread that counterbalanced the comedy and the romance quite beautifully.

There were some very nice twists and turns along the way. Moments of comedy and moments of joy deftly handled. I turned the pages quickly and stayed up rather later than I had planned because I so wanted to know what was going to happen.

And yet my feelings were mixed. There were times when I found Patience irksome. It is one thing to be a simple soul, but even the simplest souls have some awareness, some concern for the feelings of others. But Patience didn’t. she was utterly oblivious, thinking only of what she wanted.

It was wonderful that her discovery of love and passion swept away everything, save her maternal love, but I found it hard to believe that any grown woman could be quite so insensitive to other people’s feelings.

Maybe that says more about me than the book. I’ve often been told that I’m too serious, and that I over-think things.

But I’m afraid that near the end, when Patience said that she had grown up and all that it meant that she was more forceful in getting her own way I was bitterly disappointed.

I just needed some little acknowledgement that she might have been thoughtless, or some little sign that she had sympathy or understanding for others. But it never came. And an afterword revealed that Patience never really grew up at all.

Seeing love conquer all was delightful, and the way that the story played out was a joy.

To me though, this looks like a flawed gem. I saw the beauty and the flaws, but I suspect some will see only the beauty and others will see only the flaws. show less