The Summer Before the War

Beatrice Nash had been raised by her professor father to be well-educated, independent, and capable but, when he dies, he leaves her inheritance in trust with relatives until she should marry despite the fact that this leaves her at the economic mercy of relatives who consider her incapable of handling money. She takes a position as a Latin teacher in Rye, a small village on the Essex coast under the sponsorship of Agatha Kent, an upper class pillar of this small community, who has fought for her despite prejudice against female teachers and with the rather sneaky support of Agatha’s two nephews, medical student Hugh, and aspiring poet Daniel. Among her pupils is a boy called Snout, a surprisingly gifted and intelligent student but show more whose talent is dismissed by almost everyone because of his Romani father.

Germany’s invasion of Belgium changes the village dynamic in both large and small ways. They take in several Belgian refugees, most of whom are peasants and therefore a great disappointment to the village with the exception of a professor and his beautiful daughter, Celeste whose own tragedy highlights the cruelty of many of the attitudes of the time. When England goes to war, many of the young men who go off to fight will not return and the reaction of the villagers when they view mothers bereft by the loss of their sons is one of the most poignant and heartrending scenes of the novel.

The Summer Before the War by author Helen Simonson begins, as the title suggests, in the summer of 1914 in Rye, a small village on the coast of England. Less a romance or a war story than a comedy of manners, it explores the British class system, the position of women in society at the time, and attitudes towards homosexuality, divorce, and rape among other things. But don’t get me wrong, Simonson has a gentle but deft touch even as she skewers some of the mores and customs of the era, especially all of the restrictions placed on women and the lower classes and she does it often in the coy way of literature of the period - she gives a peek at the ankle but never bares the leg. She also buries this critique of Edwardian society in a beautifully-written and interesting story with complex characters and flashes of humour and satire. show less

I adore Helen Simonson like you adore an old friend with whom you’d sit comfortably, rocking and sipping herbal tea on the porch at dusk. There’s something so endearing about her characters and English village life she portrays. I’ve lived in England several times in my life, and her books make me miss it. I love the history in this one too—the naïveté and over-the-top patriotism that characterized the time right before WWI. I honestly wish there was a way to protect the characters from what lies ahead, or at least warn them of the horrors. To explain that trenches were not quaint in any sense but would instead haunt men’s nightmares for decades. This book makes me think of poppies and Flanders and Union Jack pennants and show more village squares with worn old stone memorials carved with long-forgotten names. I recommend this book to anyone looking for an easy, lovely, engrossing little read. show less

Helen Simonson's THE SUMMER BEFORE THE WAR (2016) is a book to read slowly, to savor its beautiful writing and to appreciate the richness of the dialect of the Edwardian age reflected in the story. And to gradually get to know the diverse cast of characters, from its heroine, 23 year-old Latin teacher, Beatrice Nash, to the two dissimilar cousins, Hugh and Daniel, and their richly realized Aunt Agatha, to the pompous, self-aggrandizing "Writer," all the way down to the 15 year-old Gypsy boy nicknamed "Snout." All of these people come together in the small village of Rye in the summer of 1914 as Germany invades Belgium and England is drawn precipitously into what will become the Great War.

But this is so much more than just another war show more novel. It's about class and prejudice and a time when women had virtually no rights, and about homophobia before it even had a name. Beatrice Nash is forced to work as a teacher because her late father, a respected academic, put her inheritance into a trust which a jealous relative administers in a niggardly fashion. She has vowed never to marry, and wants to be a writer in a time when women are not taken seriously. Indeed, she has collected and edited her father's letters into a book, but her father's agent gives her work to "the Writer," and she's to receive no credit. Daniel, the budding young poet, is involved in an intimate, unspoken affair with Craigmore, a wealthy young artist and nobleman whose father breaks up the relationship by forcing his son into the Army. In fact, both Daniel and his cousin, Hugh, a young surgeon (who is draw to Beatrice), also end up in the Army, as does young Snout, Beatrice's most promising student, who realizes he'll never go far, because he's "just a Gypsy." So there are any number of threads to follow in this richly woven tapestry of love, war, class, loss and heartbreak. The narrative moves at a leisurely pace until the principals are separated by the war, the women on the home front and the men in war-torn France, at which time things begin to move much more quickly, taking the reader along.

I knew Simonson was a talented writer, as I had read and loved her first novel, MAJOR PETTIGREW'S LAST STAND, which was an international bestseller. So I'm not surprised how much I enjoyed this one. I took small bedtime bites of its nearly 500 pages over a week's time. It was absolutely delicious. I'm still digesting. My very highest recommendation.

- Tim Bazzett author of the memoir, BOOKLOVER show less

2.5 stars - rounded down.

Once again, I find myself outside the majority on a book. I was excited and expecting to love it, I didn't. It was OK, but there was too much that was cliche, too much that was predictable, and too much that seemed to be to be stretching to address issues with modern sensibilities instead of 19th Century ones. I would truly like to think that ordinary Englishmen of this period were not so duplicitous and hard-hearted. Indeed, even the good-hearted people don’t seem to be able to pull it off. Lord North is just a cartoon character.

Some things just didn’t make sense. To expose Daniel as gay would bring doubt and injury to his own son’s reputation. Would a man like North have risked that? Why get Daniel show more discharged from service when he will be on the battlefield and subject to being killed? Isn’t that what North would have wanted? Even the despicable of the world might draw the line at murdering a boy in order to have revenge on a man. I could not buy into North taking this form of revenge. According to Simonson, the Edwardians would have made the Victorians seem liberal and open-minded.

My reaction to this novel was more complex than that, however. It was very much about my inability to connect to these characters. They seemed terribly two dimensional. They laughed at the wrong time, they teased and kidded when they might have reasonably been expected to cry or moan or writhe in pain. I did not feel any emotional stirrings except in the trial portion and the shooting of the dog.

I was reading another book simultaneously that was set in the second World War. I could not help contrasting the two books and the impact they were having on me as I read. Perhaps this book might not have felt so bereft of reality had the other not been so moving and real. I went into this read with great expectations, as well, which can sometimes be a mistake.

Obviously, this novel has had an impact on others, who found it fulfilling and satisfying. I am not saying they are wrong. It sometimes has as much to do with the reader as the writer and I am quite willing to admit that this time it might be weighted on the reader’s side. It was not poorly written (as regards to style and ability), it was not without its moments of elevation, it was just not, as my British friends might say, my cup of tea. A bit of Camomile when I was needing a strong Earl Grey. show less

I just couldn't stay awake last night to finish the last 75 pages of The Summer Before the War. So now I'm starting today with that bittersweet feeling of finishing a wonderful book. I laughed and cried and felt nostalgic for the loss of that last Edwardian summer before the war. Helen Simonson created a whole village of memorable characters who seem to sense they are on the edge of real change in their lives beyond just men going to war. We see women coming into their own strength, some leading the charge while others are pulled along. And, we see tragedy leading to a new understanding of who might be brave and deserving outside the strict rules of polite society.

This book is amazing. I liked its length; it took its time to develop interesting characters and recreate the details of the time period. It was a wonderful book for being immersed in the past, and it seemed very reminiscent of Downton Abbey, with its depictions of the war, of the wealthy (and not-so-wealthy) families, and of the difficulties of navigating the dangerous waters of society. I also liked the book very much for what wasn't said. This book reminds me somewhat of Hemingway in that Simonson clearly understands the power of subtlety; although she is no minimalist, she obviously knows that what is left out can be more powerful than what's put in, and she uses it to great advantage. The heroine, Beatrice, is a strong woman but show more never a cliché, and Hugh's gentle nature is a breath of fresh air. I also thought the LGTB romance was beautifully developed and very moving, and again, it's all the more powerful for how much goes unsaid. A beautiful and poignant book. show less

The Summer Before the War is a rather misleading title, since war is declared partway through, interrupting the tea parties and small-town politics, and summer ends before the book does. Fortunately, I also like stories set during world wars.

Hugh, a medical student, and his cousin Daniel, recently graduated from Oxford, have grown up spending summers with their Aunt Agatha and Uncle John in the coastal town of Rye. In the summer of 1914, they became caught up in Agatha’s latest project: getting a woman appointed as the Latin teacher at the local grammar school. The newly-arrived teacher, Beatrice, is grieving for her father, desperate for independence from her disapproving relatives, and much younger than anyone expects. When the show more success of her appointment is thrown into doubt, Hugh and Daniel step forward.
And then war is declared, and the village takes in a group of Belgium refugees, and young men begin signing up.

The Summer Before the War pulled me in and then broke my heart. I fell in love with the characters, especially Agatha and Beatrice, with their passions for change, for education, for helping others, and their very human limitations.

There are charming, picturesque “summer in the countryside” aspects to this story. Even after war breaks out, there are things to be hopeful about. But this isn’t a romanticised idea of the past. It doesn’t shy away from the problematic attitudes and injustices within the community - and some of those attitudes really surprised me.

It was interesting reading this so soon after The Chilbury Ladies’ Choir, because both deal with similar themes and scandals - but The Summer Before the War does so with greater subtlety and nuance. At first it seems like there’s a significant shift partway through this story when war breaks out, and yet it continues to be a tightly focused exploration of social politics, prejudice and and consequences of breaking with convention. I appreciated the way all the pieces ultimately fitted together, even the way the final ‘twist’ was something I had suspected.

I’m going to have trouble choosing only a dozen favourite books at the end of the year, but I think this will be on that list.

”I only know that I want to teach something other than elementary school,” [Beatrice] said. “I want to teach and study and write, as my father did, and to have my efforts treated no less seriously just because I am a woman.”
Agatha sighed. “You are an educated person and can be of use to the country, but women like us need to demonstrate our worth, rather than demonstrating in the streets. Besides,” she added, “we don’t need all the housemaids declaring their independence and running off to join the music hall, do we?”
“Who would boil the tea?” said Beatrice, before she could stop herself. show less