The Man in the Wooden Hat

I have held off on reviewing this second book in the trilogy until I had finished the third, so as to have a clear view of where it sits in terms of quality and my general level of satisfaction with the narrative. While still an exceptional read - the quality of the authorship guarantees that - this falls shy of Old Filth's knockout punch, the clear masterpiece in the series with an elegant tightness belying the complexity of the Sir Edward Feathers' redemptive arc, and the satisfaction of the well-seasoned stew of related characters by which Last Friends brings an end to Gardam's fictional cycle.

I suspect at base my dissatisfaction stems from the character of Betty Feathers, née Macintosh. While both Betty and Edward have secrets in show more their past, Betty lacks the will and/or the opportunity to reconcile with hers. Old Filth saw Edward Feathers respond to sudden and shocking loss with a somewhat mad road-trip, taking him from disintegration of character to reintegration and reconciliation with his "self" and his past. Betty's similar loss leads to introspection and not a lot else. Is this a reversal of Old Filth's path? He begins fractured and ends mended while Betty begins whole and loses impetus/will/individuality? Perhaps.

The big shock for me was realising that Teddy's belief that he and his wife were a near perfect union - a pair who completed and enriched each other's lives - was delusional. There, I think, lies the true tragedy. Betty loves Edward, or so it would seem as she says this to herself on numerous occasions, but her passion lies elsewhere. The kicker for me is her refusal to let Edward talk to her about his past: she made a choice to not talk about hers, but he needed to talk, wanted to talk, tried to talk and she refused point-blank to hear. I find that unforgivable.

I would not hesitate to recommend The Man in the Wooden Hat as part of an excellent trilogy and, in the course of writing this review, have raised my rating from 3.5 to 4 stars. Well may my feelings towards Betty be the antithesis of the affection engendered towards Old Filth, but the ability to evoke such a strong emotional response is testament to brilliant writing. show less

My god - absolutely beautiful. I picked this up on a whim before a flight, knowing that I had an afternoon to kill, and I am so, so glad that I did.

Why did I love it so much? Maybe it's the way Ms. Gardam writes about emotionality without becoming maudlin. The characters all stand on their own, and I don't feel she expects or wants me to pity them, even at painful times. Maybe it's the lack of overblown prose - description when necessary, but not so much that I wanted to skip it. Every sentence has a point, even if it comes much later. Maybe it's just the simplicity of tracing the steps of a marriage that endures.

At any rate, it's gone into my permanent favorites category, and I suspect will be one of those books that I'm pressing show more others to read. show less

I began this with some hesitation, having enjoyed Old Filth but not sure that I was ready to re-enter the world. Thinking that I knew where the story was going (I should have known better), Gardham surprised me once again with the scenes she depicted and the deft descriptions of both inner and outer worlds, as well as the need for (and fear of) honest and courageous communication. I may not start the third in the trilogy immediately but have little doubt that I will read it.

The storyline of Old Filth doesn't seem to offer much scope for sequels - it's pretty much a cradle-to-grave novel, with no obvious sign of a younger generation following - but, like Laurence Durrell in The Alexandria Quartet, or like Ford Maddox Ford in The good soldier, Gardam uses the trick of going back over essentially the same material from the viewpoint of a different central character, and showing us how it can all be read with quite a different slant. I think she must have had FMF in the back of her mind - Sir Edward Feathers sometimes seems to have more than a hint of Ashburnham (or even Tietjens) about him.

The man in the wooden hat puts Feathers's wife, Betty, in the spotlight, and shows us something about the history of the show more love affair hinted at in the first book, but what it's really interested in is the way two people who are married for fifty years and may be presumed to know each other better than anyone else does, can still have important pieces of their lives that they aren't prepared to share - whether or not their "secrets" are really secret. And what the presence of those "secrets" in their lives means to them.

I felt that this was perhaps even a better, more complicated novel than Old Filth, although it's difficult to assess, because it does also rest quite heavily on the heavy work of exposition and scene-setting that's already been done in the first volume. Certainly, Gardam seems to be more comfortable with Betty as a character, and is more prepared to take risks and let herself be witty. show less

The writing is once again gorgeous, and for me, worth the time spent, but I didn't find Betty and her trials any more fundamentally engaging than I found Filth.
What was actually a premarital affair really is made a big deal of, and the book concentrates on a less than 3-year stretch of a 30-year marriage. The end is pretty much a repeat of Old Filth, though we learn Albert Ross survived Feathers. Early sexual adventurism and its later revelation are really thin material.
260126 I like it better on re-read. I was more taken by the mystic overtones of Albert Ross's appearances and Betty's determined self-eradication.

The Man in the Wooden Hat is Jane Gardam's second novel involving the upright and seemingly stodgy Sir Edward Feathers. He is a lawyer and then judge known as Filth, the nickname derived from "Failed In London, Try Hong Kong". In the first novel, Old Filth, he was introduced as a lonely widower residing in western England, looking back on his days of wealth and fame in Hong Kong. This one tells the story from the perspective of his beloved wife Betty, starting with her saying yes to his proposal in a Hong Kong hotel.

Gardam is particularly good at letting us see the inner workings of outwardly convention-observing characters, as they struggle with inner yearnings versus the desire to be moral and respectable, and successful in the eyes show more of others. When, shortly after Filth's proposal, Betty runs into Terry Veneering, Filth's rival, she wishes the proposal had come an hour later. That attraction will have have long lasting effects for all of them.

The steamy Hong Kong and austere English countryside atmospheres are vividly portrayed, and there are revelations around every corner, including a corker at the end. Betty evolves from a clever but unworldly youngster with "unpainted, sandy toenails" to a decisive ruler of her realm. What a feat for Gardam to so engagingly tell the story from two different perspectives in two different novels. A third novel, Last Friends, will tell the story from the POV of Filth's rival Veneering. Reading high quality writing always feels good, and like the first novel, this one is cleverly conceived and affecting, as you find out more about all three protagonists. Four stars, and it may well deserve more. show less

One of my favorite authors has written another book on Old Filth (Failed in London, Try Hong Kong), this tale from the viewpoint of his wife, Betty, a poignant portrayal of their lives together and apart. As the New Statesman says of Gardam "she explores the corrosive loneliness of being alive and the courage it takes to continue." But there is humor and compassion and lovely writing.