The Masters

This is the 5th book in Snow's "Strangers and Brothers" series. The series follows the life and career of Lewis Eliot from his early struggles in the 1920s to become a lawyer and to deal with marriage to a mentally troubled woman through his time as a Cambridge don, and then through the years of World War Two and into the 1960s. Through Eliot's eyes we see the changes in British society (mostly upper class and academic circles). In The Masters, we are in the late 1930s, and Eliot is a don in an unnamed college within Cambridge University. The Master of the college has terminal cancer, and the deliberations concerning who his successor will be have begun, with two main camps quickly forming. The plot of the book concerns these show more deliberations and negotiations, and the personalities and relationships of the men struggling through the process.

I am slowly reading through this series, which has, in all, 11 books, usually one or two books per year. I enjoyed reading the first four, and very much enjoyed this book, as well. Given the subject matter, I really wasn't expecting to find The Masters compelling, but I did. It's about a bunch of relatively privileged men in the 1930s deeply involved in the politics of a decision that could be of importance only within their fishbowl world. Why would I care? The answer lies in Snow's deft touch with character, and his obvious somewhat wry affection towards his subjects. The dons cover a spectrum of ages, and Snow ably shows us how each man's experiences and expectations regarding the college and its traditions is rooted in whatever era he came of age. The oldest of the dons has been in his position since the 1880s. The youngest of the dons, a scientist, is working on problems of physics that, we are told, will eventually help in the creation of radar. Through their varied eyes, we are shown the evolution of English university life and academia as a whole.

Snow used an interesting method in his storytelling, here, in that the action of The Masters, actually steps back in time a few years from the series' previous book, [The Light and the Dark], which takes the narrative into the middle of World War Two. So we know what the future will hold for some of the characters we're reading about, and we also understand how this world that the Cambridge dons are so concerned with preserving is soon to undergo drastic changes that all of their deep deliberations and politics will be entirely unable to prevent or even influence.

All in all, this is a very fine novel of ideas and personalities. Understanding the characters' backgrounds through a reading of the previous books in the series would be helpful, but I don't think in this case wholly necessary. show less

This is one of my favourite novels ... ever!
I began my working life with a brief spell as a (very) Junior Fellow of an Oxford College and as a consequence I have always enjoyed reading novels set in academia. My own short-lived Fellowship, at Oriel College, was during the mid-1980s, almost fifty years after the events in this novel took place, and ‘The Masters’ is, of course, set in that other place, over in the fens. I could, however, recognise so much of what happened in this book. The conversations between the Fellows, the orotundity of speech, the rigidity and formality of their manners … it all just seemed like yesterday!
I first read ‘The Masters’ more than thirty years ago, while in my final year as an undergraduate, as show more I ploughed through the whole of C P Snow's eleven volume semi-autobiographical novel sequence ‘Strangers and Brothers’. I remember from that first reading that I considered this novel, and indeed the sequence as a whole, as being singularly lacking in emotion. While I clearly recall having enjoyed this volume more than the rest, I didn't really think of it again until five or six years later, when the Conservative Party went through its internal leadership selection process to appoint a successor to Margaret Thatcher after she was ousted in November 1990. Out of the blue something prompted me to re-read this novel, and I was amazed: it seemed to be a different book to the one I had read just a few years earlier and I found that it positively seethes with emotion.
The book was written in the 1950s but is set in 1937 in an unnamed Cambridge College (generally believed to be King's, where Snow himself had been a Fellow before the war). Like the rest of the sequence it is narrated by Lewis Eliot, a barrister who had at that time been a Fellow of the College for about three years, though he still also maintained up his private practice in London. Eliot has had his own personal turmoils in the past and had decided to pursue the field of academic law for a while as a form of emotional rehabilitation.
The novel opens with the news that Vernon Royce, the Master of the College, has just been diagnosed as terminally ill, and is expected to die within the next few months. The remaining Fellows have to elect a successor from among themselves, and it soon emerges that there are only two candidates likely to draw any viable support: Dr Redvers Crawford, an eminent physiologist, and Dr Paul Jago, an English scholar scarcely known beyond the walls of the College, but viewed as having great insight into people and known for the ambition of his ideas. Crawford is to the left of centre politically while Jago is a true blue reactionary.
Snow captures the different personalities, and animosities, marvellously. There are bitter rivalries, jealousies and conflicting aspirations, all of which prey upon the Fellows and render the forthcoming election particularly sensitive. Among the Fellows there is a wide range of scholarly accomplishment. Some have achieved success and recognition far beyond the ivory tower while others have lost their way after a promising start. The portrayal of the Senior Fellow, Professor M H L Gay, is particularly effective. He is a medievalist, renowned and honoured around the world for his success in translating the Icelandic sagas, and never tires of reminding his fellow Fellows about his honorary degrees.
The tension mounts as the old Master's health gradually fails, and the election draws closer. Snow's dissection of the emotions of a tight-knit group of colleagues and the relations they have to maintain is utterly engaging, and grips the reader with the same compulsion as the best spy or mystery stories. Since re-reading it in 1990 I seem to read it again every two or three years, and the conclusion and the various twists still contrive to surprise me. show less

This is one of my favourite novels ... ever! Having briefly served as a Fellow of an Oxford College I have always enjoyed reading novels set in academia. My own short-lived Fellowship, at Oriel College, was during the mid-1980s, almost fifty years after the events in this novel were set, and The Masters is set in that other place, over in the fens. However, I could recognise so much of what happened in this book. The conversations between the Fellows, the orotundity of speech, the rigidity and formality of their manners … it all just seemed like yesterday!

I first read The Masters thirty years ago (probably to the month), as I ploughed through the whole of C P Snow's eleven volume semi-autobiographical novel sequence Strangers and show more Brothers. I remember from that first reading that I considered this novel, and indeed the sequence as a whole, as being curiously lacking in emotion. I enjoyed this volume more than the rest, but didn't really think of it again until five or six years later, when the Conservative Party went through its internal leadership selection process to appoint a successor to Margaret Thatcher after she was ousted in November 1990. It occurred to me then to re-read this novel, and I was amazed - it seemed to be a different book to the one I had read a few years earlier - it positively seethes with emotion.

The book was written in the 1950s but is set in 1937 in an unnamed Cambridge College (generally believed to be King's, where Snow himself had been a Fellow before the war). Like the rest of the sequence it is narrated by Lewis Eliot, a barrister who has been a Fellow of the College for about three years, and who still keeps up his private practice in London. Eliot has had his own personal turmoils in the past and had decided to pursue the field of academic law for a while as a form of emotional rehabilitation.

The novel opens with the news that the Master of the College has just been diagnosed as terminally ill, and is expected to die within the next few months. The remaining Fellows have to elect a successor from among themselves, and it soon emerges that there are only two candidates likely to draw any viable support: Dr Redvers Crawford, an eminent physiologist, and Dr Paul Jago, an English scholar scarcely known beyond the walls of the College, but viewed as having great insight into people and known for the ambition of his ideas. Crawford is to the left of centre politically while Jago is a true blue reactionary.

Snow captures the different personalities, and animosities, marvellously. There are bitter rivalries, jealousies and conflicting aspirations, all of which prey upon the Fellows and render the forthcoming election particularly sensitive. Among the Fellows there is a wide range of scholarly accomplishment. Some have achieved success and recognition far beyond the ivory tower while others have lost their way after a promising start. The portrayal of the Senior Fellow, Professor M H L Gay, is particularly effective. He is a medievalist, renowned and honoured around the world for his success in translating the Icelandic sagas, and never tires of reminding his fellow Fellows about his honorary degrees.

The tension mounts as the old master's health gradually fails, and the election draws closer. Snow's dissection of the emotions of a tight-knit group of colleagues and the relations they have to maintain is utterly engaging, and grips the reader with the same compulsion as the best spy or mystery stories. Since re-reading it in 1990 I seem to read it again every two or three years, and the conclusion and the various twists still contrive to surprise me. show less

I began The Masters with the expectation that I would find it filled with telling insights into British culture in the period between the World Wars, and the fear it would be dull, dull, dull. To my delight (and relief) I found myself engrossed in a fascinating narrative. The novel opens as the fellows of a fictional college at Cambridge learn that the current Master of the college has a terminal illness. When he dies, the fellows know they must elect a new Master. A prolonged, and oh so gentile, power struggle ensues as two candidates for the post come forth and each of the 13 fellows take sides.

The novel recounts the subtle machinations of human affairs and gives a wonderfully nuanced picture of the personalities, lives, and visions show more for the future (or of the past) of the 13 men. We the readers, and the author of course, know World War II is coming. While the gathering storm of that conflict doesn’t play a major role in the story, our knowledge that it is imminent gives a deeper dimension to what seem (to most of the characters within the story) tangential differences in global/political view .

C.P. Snow draws beautifully rendered portraits of the men involved in the election. You come to know the key players, and many secondary characters, in all the quiet complexity of their lives. There is no “action” to be speak of, save the cataclysmic turning points of ordinary lives. And of course there is the pure intrigue of waiting to see who will win the election. To my surprise, I highly recommend this for anyone who enjoys a good (if somewhat cerebral) story. show less

Another novel published in 1951, but set in the year 1937. The year hardly matters because outside events have little effect on the election of a new Master for a college at Cambridge. Changes in college customs among academics occur at a snails pace and this protracted election which takes in the better part of a year has a peculiarly insular feel to it. The old Master is terminally ill and has been given two months to live, however he has not been told the diagnosis by his doctor and his wife has decided to put off telling him the bad news as long as she can, which soon gets round to the fellow academics in the college. The Master's position in the college is one of power and influence and also comes with a residence which is much show more sought after. There are 13 fellows in the college who qualify for election and they themselves elect the new master from one of their number. The difficulty for those involved in this election is that much of their campaigning must be done in relative secrecy as they try to shield the current master from the news of his impending death. The fellows are of course all men, mostly steeped in the tradition of academic life and so this novel focuses on the political manoeuvrings of individuals in this group to secure the coveted position. The insularity of the individuals in the group most of whom do not stray far from their place of work concentrates the political subject matter to such an extent that it becomes all encompassing. The skill of the author is to hold the interest of the reader and to examine themes that must occur in any political climate. Themes of power, of organisation, of pride, of affability and of suitability.

Lewis Elliot one of the younger fellows tells the story in the first person, it is the fifth book of an eleven book series, but by its very nature it stands alone. Soon two candidates for the Mastership emerge and are supported by three or four of their colleagues. Lewis Elliott stands firmly behind Jago who he considers is the better man in the classical traditions of the college The other candidate Crawford is a scientist who has gained more of a reputation outside the college. There are fellows in the group embittered by not being considered themselves and others who see themselves as the power behind the throne. It eventually becomes clear that Jago's group have an advantage in numbers of two, but because of the protracted nature of the election and the possibility of three or four floating voters campaigning has to be sustained over a long period of time. The fellows formally dine with each other most evenings and many have rooms inside the college. The wear and tear of holding and keeping their positions behind each candidate takes its toll, although it has to be said not in any drastic way. It is a book where nothing much happens as we follow this group in the minutia of their daily lives.

Of course the book gives the reader an insight into the workings and traditions of a university college and one cannot escape the thought that these fellows lead a life where it becomes commonplace to bury their heads in the sand. A book that looks backwards rather than forwards, the two or three fellows whose work takes them outside the college are liable to feel the tensions of a Europe struggling against fascism, but it has little or no affect on the actions of their colleagues. Women only feature as a stick with which to beat their partners, they are a hindrance to the world inside the college. I did not think that I would synchronise in any way with the thoughts and themes of novels such as this, but I am always willing to be surprised and I was on occasions in this novel. Reading this made me think about growing old.

"A few years before he would not have said of Jago, as though human feelings were tiresome, ‘he’ll recover in time’. But in fact he had come to the point where human feelings were tiresome–no, not tiresome so much as remote, trivial, a little comic. That was the sign of age. Pilbrow had been a man of strong affections. But those affections died off, except the strongest of all; as he became old, he could only feel moved by the great themes of his life; all else cooled down, although he struck no one as old, certainly not himself. And where he did not feel himself, he lost his sympathy for others’ feelings. They did not seem important. Very little seemed important. Just as a mature man dismisses calf love with a smile, because he can no longer feel it (though it may once have caused him the sharpest pain), so Pilbrow, that vigorous old man, smiled indifferently at the triumphs and sufferings of the middle-aged. Suddenly one encountered blankness at a point where one expected sympathy and response. He looked just as he had looked ten years before; he could still feel passionately about his deepest concerns; but those concerns were narrowing, and one knew at last that he was growing old."

Not the most dynamic of novels and limited in scope, but in the end I bought into it and so 4 stars, show less

A beautiful psychological study of Cambridge academics and the mental anxieties and acrobatics hidden behind polite exteriors as they jockey for institutional position. The Cambridge culture is now superseded and particular, but the experience is universal in higher education.

1892 The Masters, by C. P. Snow (read 17 Dec 1984) This is the fifth of the series, and is easily the best novel therein so far. I could understand exactly what was being driven at, and I found it breathtakingly well-done. Vernon Royce, Master at a (mythical) Cambridge college dies and this book tells of the election--made by the thirteen fellows of the college--to take his place. "I"--Lewis Eliot--is for Paul Jago, as are three others. Crawford is supported by six Fellows. The story is wonderfully told, with high suspense. And while I was for Jago all the way through at the end I thought Crawford the better candidate! In an Appendix Snow tells the history of the college, and it is probably the history of most Cambridge colleges. Snow show more is a master of English prose--clean, expressive, a joy to read--when he is telling something worth knowing, as he was in this volume--such a contrast to the fourth volume--The Light and the Dark. show less