Our Spoons Came from Woolworths

In this mostly depressing novel, a young woman recounts her early adulthood. She married way too young and had a baby right away, lived in poverty, gets ill, husband is unsupportive and leaves her, etc. It was sort of like a first person Hardy novel set in the mid-1900s.

I liked it, but not as much as the other Comyns novel I've read (The Vet's Daughter). I mainly liked the voice of the narrator in this one. She is very straightforward and matter of fact about all the terrible things happening to her. I actually found it sort of funny at times.

I just finished this as part of rainpebble's ALL VIRAGO/ALL AUGUST challenge. It's a sometimes hilarious comedy because of its deadpan, first person narration written in a very simple, childlike voice that reminds me of Gertrude Stein's Gentle Lena. Sophia isn't in any way "simple-minded," though -- rather, a bit naive with some serious "self-esteem issues."

I think the funniest scene might be the one where "Bumble," a painter for whom Sophia is modelling, takes her and her young son, Sandro, in the car to a house where they'll be staying for the weekend.

Bumble stopped at a cake shop and bought masses of disgusting cakes all covered in imitation cream and jam and gave [Sandro] them to eat. Fortunately, he didn't like them, but thought it show more a good idea to smear them all over the seat and window of the car. Still it would have made even more mess if he had been sick.

This following an earlier scene in a bus when Sandro had gotten sick all over some woman's umbrella, which, as Sophia explains equally deadpan, had been opened.

If these incidents don't sound as funny in the retelling, it's because you've got to read them in the full, ongoing context of Sophia's naive, deadpan narration.

A definite 5*****. show less

As a young and terribly naive girl, Sophia Fairclough enters into a disastrous first marriage and tries to raise her young family despite crushing poverty and an irresponsible, disinterested artist for a husband. Sophie's narrative voice is so light and trips along so breathlessly that the reader almost overlooks the very real hardships she endures. Her naivete can be funny--she believes birth control is just thinking very hard that you don't want to become pregnant--but she shows great resourcefulness when pretty much everyone in her life lets her down, and her insights into the plight of women are quite sharp. This is a quick and easy but affecting read, only marred by a very rushed and rather fairy-tale-like ending, and I think it show more gives a good sense of what the Great Depression was like to live through. show less

Sophia is young and naive when she falls for Charles, a painter. Believing love will see them through all sorts of troubles, they decide to marry even though neither has a reliable way to make a living. Charles keeps hoping his talents will be discovered, and Sophia earns a bit of money here and there as a model for other artists. They are desperately poor, and blissfully unaware of the need to "take precautions." Sophia soon becomes pregnant, and at this point Charles turns into a bit of an ass. He's not keen about having a child, but reluctantly agrees it might be okay if it were a girl. Of course it's a boy, and he only halfheartedly fulfills his parental responsibilities. Sophia is a bit slow to realize Charles is an ass, until she show more has an affair with a much older man. The affair runs its course, as affairs often do, and she must then take decisive action to change the course of her life.

This sounds like a fairly typical love story, and on one level, it is. But Sophia is a memorable, engaging and eternally optimistic narrator. Here's a typical excerpt:
That is the kind of stuff that appears in real people's books. I know this will never be a real book that business men in trains will read, the kind of business men that wear stiff hats with curly brims and little breathing holes let in the side. I wish I knew more about words. Also I wish so much I had learnt my lessons in school. I never did, and have found this such a disadvantage ever since. All the same, I am going on writing this book even if business men scorn it. (p. 54)

Sophia prattles on like this for over 220 pages, and she's just so much fun to "listen" to. Even when you know she's heading for trouble, you can't help but like her and hope for the best. This is an unusual novel, and the first Comyns I've read. I'll definitely be back for more. show less

Interesting. Author Barbara Comyns writes a semi-autobiographical novel set in the 1930s (she cautions that nothing in the book is true except a few chapters; I won’t mention what those are about to avoid spoilers). The protagonist, Sophia, marries in haste and repents at leisure; she’s breathtakingly naïve, and her husband is a callous jerk – but can be slightly forgiven because he’s also breathtakingly naïve. The couple have no idea of how to support themselves, and unfortunately don’t seem to realize how reproduction works (Sophia volunteers to the reader that she thought if you firmly believed you wouldn’t get pregnant, you wouldn’t. This turns out not to be the case). The main charm of the book is the writing style; show more simple declarative sentences narrating their descent into genteel poverty – and continuing into pretty ungenteel poverty – somehow turns the commonplace into grand tragedy. Still, Sophia manages to muddle through being unable to afford clothes and furniture and heat and food and medical care and ends up reminding the reader that simple joys – enough to eat, a new pair of shoes, a pet – are the best. show less

All those people who think immorality/moral dilemmas are a modern construct, need to read more. This book was published in 1950 and was set in the 1930s in a Depression-influenced London. Sophia and Charles are fellow artists who meet on a train and fall in love, or convince themselves they are in love. After their attempt at marrying secretly is foiled, they do so openly despite strong opposition from Charles' well-to-do, but unkind family. They live hand-to-mouth on what they can raise from their art and get along well enough until Sophia becomes pregnant within 6 mos. of marriage. Then the naivete and folly of their relationship is exposed. Charles does not want a baby complicating his life and wishes for a miscarriage. Sophia is show more conflicted, wanting a family, but vaguely aware of the sacrifices it will entail. Her reliable job is the first one of these and they are left on Charles' sporadic income and what they can borrow from friends and family. Her birth experience in a public hospital is harrowing (and true, according to the author, who added a note that the chapters surrounding that event - and the poverty are real), but she has a son, Sandro and their family conditions go from bad to worse, taking a toll on their marriage. Affairs ensue, which help Sophia's circumstances improve, but compromise her morals and leave her feeling guilty, a problem Charles doesn't seem to have. He is clearly the villain, demanding an end to a second unexpected pregnancy, and treating Sophia poorly throughout, despite his supposedly "better" upbringing. Sophia ultimately lands on her feet, though it is hard to be happy for anyone in this story. I admire the desire to live by art, albeit, bohemianly, but some of their actions and choices are maddening. Sophia is the narrator throughout and her tone and description are so unemotional and matter-of-fact that it reminded me a bit of The Glass Castle and I was left feeling a little judgy - who lives like this?! Still, it kept me reading and I admire the way NYRB finds and publishes these lesser-known "classics." They are writers and stories that need to be heard. show less

“The only things that are true in this story are the wedding and Chapters 10, 11 and 12 and the poverty.”

“Our Spoons” is Comyns’s somewhat autobiographical novel covering her early adult years and the cyclic struggles with her then husband. Undereducated and wrought with ongoing poverty, neglect, and indifference, Sophia Fairclough, in her youthful naiveté, fought her damnest to keep her family together during the Depression years in London. She was twenty-one when she married Charles, an aspiring artist who refused to have a real job, smokes, drinks, and didn’t like their son because he looked too much like himself. Sigh. They go through mini periods of joy, whenever they have steady income, such as when Sophia receives an show more unexpected inheritance. Otherwise, it’s misery for all leading to adultery, abortion, and death – until Sophia and Charles finally separate and Sophia finds her own happiness.

At a modest 200 pages, this little book delivered a punch that bought pain and joy. The optimistic Sophia hung on to this marriage even though her husband provided nearly no partnership and little care. A part of me wants to slap her awake; a part of me wants to feed and shelter her and her children. The chapters on child birth were beyond “wow”, not a good time to be a mom for sure! This book, being semi-autobiographical, was particularly emotional, with all that she went through. Even though not all is true, the reader is silently cheering for her and wishing her the best. One bit nearly torn my heart out. The prose is somewhat choppy with short chapters, as though from memories that are piecemealed together. The text is bluntly earnest, expressing sadness and tragic moments that are oddly humorous. Her resourcefulness was inspiring. For the subject and story, I found the prose to be appropriate and effective. Overall, it’s a fast and entertaining read.

Sidebar: I bought this book partly because of the “…Woolworths” title – a store that I have an odd fondness for. An overflowing emporium with everything a person may want, including queasy pizza in the U.S. long time ago. I still have unopened socks from there that are virtually old-timey souvenirs by now. Don’t ask. :P

Some Quotes:
On Pregnancy – oh, that poor, naive girl:
“Charles said, ‘Oh dear, what will the family say? How I dislike the idea of being a Daddy and pushing a pram!’ So I said, ‘I don’t want to be a beastly Mummy either; I shall run away.’ Then I remembered if I ran away the baby would come with me wherever I went. It was a most suffocating feeling and I started to cry.”

On Birth Control – ditto:
“…before we were married Charles told me he never wanted to have any children, and I saw they would not fit in with the kind of life we would lead, so I just hoped none would come to such unsuitable parents – anyway, not for years. I had a kind of idea if you controlled your mind and said ‘I won’t have any babies’ very hard, they most likely wouldn’t come. I thought that was what was meant by birth-control, but by this time I knew what idea was quite wrong.”

On Starving Artist:
“…Sometimes we were several weeks behind and the landlady would ask us for money each time we went in or out of the house. I would hear her talking about us to the other people who lived on the floor below and felt dreadfully ashamed. Charles did not mind. He just said she was a silly old bitch. As soon as Charles started to paint he forgot about the cold and money worries. That is how artists should be, but I was only a commercial artist, so I went on worrying…” show less