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Our final session: On Unmooring Britain:

In the last session we had we talked not only about the grand finale of our third and final novel “Girl, Woman, Other”,but also about the question whether or whether not we ended up “unmooring Britain”. And though this definitely might seem rather short gripped – I think we did (at the very least to some extent). After all, each of the novels we read in this course helped us to better understand the many ways in which Britain is anchored in patriarchal, chauvinist and racist structures. And though not all of the texts read during this semester ended in an abolishment of said structures – take Dracula for instance – knowing about them definitely helped us to understand them and their perils. In Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” we explored the concepts of lust, sex, and evil as they were viewed during the late 19th and 20th century, in Elizabeth Bowen’s “The Last September” we took a closer look on colonialism, imperialism and displacement during the early 20th century and in Bernadine Evaristo’s “Girl, Woman, Other” we inspected love, sexuality, race, immigration, home and community in our own times. Through considering all these different themes in all these different times, we definitely came closer to understanding at least some of the key aspects that have shaped British society, as well as its current challenges (take a growing xenophobia and nationalist impulses for instance).

I really wish I would have had some more time to explore some of the thoughts I developed in my diary even further, as I feel like many of my entries are merely scratching the surface of things, or rather “still stuck in their children’s shoes” as one could say in German. But unfortunately, not only my semester was rather packed, but also this last week, as late December is apparently the time when no real editor wants to work, and working students are offered to take over shifts. Regardless, I would like to thank you once again for the seminar. It was by far my most engaging class I took at Sorbonne, not only because we were frequently asked to voice our own thoughts regarding the text, but also because each novel chosen was packed with different themes, and thus could be explored through a multitude of different angles. Maybe especially so Last September”, though I will say it took me some time to get into it, as I am used to get through texts rather fast, something which “The Last September” absolutely refuses you do to by its lack of giving you context, its never-ending symbolisms and its rather clunky language. In a way the experience reminded me of reading “One hundred years of Solitude” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez – which only became good when I gave up on understanding it to its full extent and focused on following along instead. Anyways, I – quite obviously – digress. I hope you had fun reading this journal just as much I had creating it.

All the best,

Felicitas

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Marianne Nicolson (2017): The Sun is Setting on the British Empire

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But since then, there have also been people publishing counter-narratives, pointing out that the article was purposely constructed to create outrage. And to be honest, I think this is overall a way more reasonable take on the situation.

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This has not much to do with the content of our class, but as we took quick detour into the case of the brain rot girl (alias girls on TikTok who do not read, but instead skim their books) I felt compelled to add this piece that was published in the Atlantic a few months back, and that has been at the centre-stage of the discussion.

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The concept of Resilience and “Girl, Woman, Other”:

In our second session on Bernadine Evaristo’s “Girl, Woman, Other”, we among other things talked about the concept of resilience and how it can be made out or applied to the lives of our characters. However, we also took our time to highlight, that we cannot look at the concept of resilience without mentioning that in our society some people are asked to cultivate higher levels of resilience than others, due to prevalent forms systemic oppression like racism and sexism. In their anthology “Identity as Resilience in Minoritized Communities. Strength-Based Approaches to Research and Practice” the social scientists Julie Koch, Erica Townsend-Bell and Randolph Hubach furthermore argue, that the concept of resilience tends to act flattening, as groups of different origin, and with different stories and histories would be subsumed under categories such as BIPOC, which are often unable to illustrate the specificity of the different experiences of oppression that people suffer from.[1] Thus, marginalization becomes a central marker of identification, instead of a condition to fight against.[2] And when looking at the social services sides of it, those wanting to foster resilience would subsequently promote a standardised toolkit for a wide range of situations, not only ignoring the fact that different situations ask for different ways of practising resilience, but also undermine those already in places, which would more often than not are a result of interchanges with the own community.[3] That being said, I, in the following, would still like to think and talk about the strategies some of the characters have developed to overcome their societal exclusion and their personal trauma, focusing on two of the protagonists of our second chapter, namely Carole and Bummi.

Our first character of the second chapter is Carole. Carole is a young investment banker who grew up in Peckham with her single mother Bummi, as her father Augustine has died from a heart attack when she was still a small child. Both of her parents are highly educated. As they were unable to find a position that matched their level of education in Nigeria, both of them came to England – only to be crushed by countless rejections.[4] In the end Bummi thus opts for a job as a cleaner, which later turns into the establishment of her own cleaning company. Carole, who knows how much her mother has struggled, and also falls victim to sexual assault by one of her classmates brother and his friends, decides to make it out of Peckham, by working hard. Eventually she is offered a place in Oxford, where she studies mathematics. But though she likes the classes, she often feels amiss, not being used to the posh environment and struggling to fit in with the other students who clearly come from generational wealth. She thus starts to adapt to the others, for example through changing the way she expresses herself[5] or the way she dresses.[6] Her way of coping is thus to change herself, which leads her to leave her old life behind at an increasing rate. She later becomes the vice president of a big bank, and though still having to deal with episodes of everyday racism, for example when others compliment her English or when clients are surprised that she is black,[7] as well as sexism,[8] she ends up being quite comfortable in her position. Her fiancé Freddy also contributes to this, as he is willing to take over a lot of the domestic duties[9] and tends to help her too loosen up, something which is arguably not as easy for Carole, as the memories of the gang-raped she experienced as a teenager are still frequently haunting her, maybe especially so, as she has never been able to confide in anyone. Instead, she is keeping them locked away[10] and fighting her uneasiness with a rather strict regimen of running: She runs for her life because to slip up is to begin descending the slippery slope to giving in to failure, to inertia, to feeling sorry for herself about the moment in her life which still creeps to the front of her memory when she least expects it.[11]

As one can imagine, Bummi is not exactly thrilled about the way her daughter changes, at some point she even refuses to speak to her.[12] In her chapter we learn, that Bummi lost both her mother and her father at a very young age, ending up in the care of her aunt who treats her more like a servant, than a child.[13] She eventually meets Augustine who becomes her husband and leaves for England – only to lose him to an untimely death. As she is left alone, she decides to “do what Augustine was himself too weak to do”,[14] namely to employ others. Something which does work out, as her cleaning company is growing rather fast. Moreover, through her own company she actually meets two of her lovers, of whom one even becomes her husband in the end. As we can thus see, both Carole, as well as Bummi have found some sort of fulfilment through their career, as they have managed to escape precarity through their intellect and hard work. All in all, this might seem like a rather neoliberal narrative, but it is also surely one that has indeed been lived by people who immigrated to Great Britain. However, one cannot forget, that both Carole and Bummi, are still black, and thus still scrutinized and excluded by their peers, as for example the day-to-day racism Carole has to endure in her workplace show or their encounter with Freddy’s family show.[15]

[1] Julie Koch, Erica Townsend-Bell and Randolph Hubach: Preface. In: Identity as Resilience in Minoritized Communities. Strength-Based Approaches to Research and Practice. Edited by Julie Koch, Erica Townsend-Bell, Randolph Hubach. Cham 2023, p. vii-ix. Here p. viii.

[2] Ibid, p. viii.

[3] Ibid, p. viii.

[4] They did not know that curled up inside her was a parchment certificate proclaiming her a graduate of the Department of Mathematics, University of Ibadan just as she did not know that when she strode on to the graduation podium in front of hundreds of people to receive her ribboned scroll, and shake hands with the Chancellor of the University, that her first class degree from a Third World country would mean nothing in her new country especially with her name and nationality attached to it and that job rejections would arrive in the post with such regularity she would ritualistically burn them in the kitchen sink. Bernadine Evaristo: Girl, Woman, Other. London 2019, p. 264.

[5] Carole listened and learned from her new social circle what would you like? Instead of whatdyawant? To whom were you speaking? Instead of who was you talking to? I’m just popping to the loo instead of I’m gonna go piss. View Ibid, p. 216.

[6] Carole amended herself to become not quite them, just a little more like them she scraped off the concrete foundation plastered on her face, removed the giraffe-esque eyelashes that weighed down her eyelids ripped of her glued-on talons that made most daily activities difficult (…) she ditched the weaves (…) she then had her tight curls straightened. View Ibid, p. 217-218.

[7] She’s thinking he’d better not do a double-take when she enters the executive meeting room one long glass wall looking out on to the City the other bearing a massive splash of tax deductible artwork that cost the price of a Zone 2 town house she’s thinking he’d better not look at her as if she should be attached to a trolley bearing flasks of coffee, assortments of teas (herbal, green, grey, Ceylon) and those individually packaged corporate biscuits. She’s used to clients, and new colleagues looking past her to the person they are clearly expecting to meet (…) except she can’t help remembering all the little hurts, the business associates who compliment her on being so articulate, unable to hide the surprise in their voices, so that she has to pretend not to be offended and to smile graciously, as if the compliment is indeed just that. View Ibid, p. 187-189.

[8] Perhaps he’ll find himself unexpectedly attracted to her, which the more sophisticated try to hide, unlike the Nigerian petrochemical billionaire a few years ago (…) who invited her to working lunch at the Savoy, only for her to discover it was in his private dining room in the Royal Suite (…) he pointed out the mattress in the master boudoir was hand-sprung with each spring wrapped in cashmere. View Ibid, p. 188.

[9] I’ll be the househusband in the relationship, he promised, hang prettily off your arm when required, mow the lawn, make jam, supervise the housekeeper and raise our lovely tawny offspring she loved that he was prepared to be subservient to her ambition. View, p. 236.

[10] View Ibid, p. 191.

[11] View Ibid, p. 221.

[12] Bummi continued to ignore her daughter on the three-seater settee in the sitting room where they usually jostled up against each other (…), she refused to let Carole massage her tired feet with cocoa butter as usual, and played deaf when she gingerly asked if she could make her a hot mug of Milo, Mother? Bummi sat at the other end of the sofa in stony faced silence, sniffing at regular intervals and wiping her eyes until the girl left the room, View Ibid, p. 246.

[13] Bummi had to be on call before and after school. Boomeee!!! Aunty Ekio shouted for her morning tea in bed, or if the furniture was not polished enough, or the children had messed up their clothes, or she wanted help in the kitchen, or for Bummi to change the television channel for her, or she needed something from the market (…), View Ibid, p. 257.

[14] View Ibid, p. 268.

[15] Freddy arranged for Bummi to meet his parents in a London restaurant, which she was looking forward to except he warned her that although they’d warmed to the idea of Carole, once they saw how classy, well-spoken and successful she was (most importantly for his mother, how slim and pretty, too) they’re still old-fashioned snobs. Freddy’s father, Mark, looked uncomfortable said little at the dinner, Carole sat there with a fake smile plastered on her face the whole time Pamela, his mother, smiled at Bummi as if she was a famine victim, when she started explaining the meaning of hors d’oeuvres to her, Fredd told her to stop it, Mummy, just stop it she gave Bummi a vintage bottle of wine from their vault, which really needs to be divested of its crumbling cork before it’s more sediment than liquid’ (…). View Ibid, p. 293-294.

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An article on Womyn's land and it's lack of successors published in the New York Times a while back.

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A short documentary on a Radical Lesbian Neighbourhood called Womontown in Kansas City.

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The significance of the Akindra symbols in Girl, Woman, Other:

In today’s session we talked (among other things) about the use of Akindra symbols throughout the entirety of the novel. After all, each chapter, as well as the front matter and epilogue is adorned with one of these signs, each in correspondence with its contents. For example, the front matter is accompanied by the so called Funtumfunefu Denkyemfunetu, a symbol that stands for unity in diversity, as well as a common destiny and a shared experience. This of course corresponds with the whole outset of the novel, which, as we argued in class, is attempting to capture the multitude of the different lived realities of Black women in Great Britain. We furthermore started to comment on whether, or rather in which way, the individual characters and their different personality traits mirror the Akindra symbols that have been chosen for them. In the following I would like to continue to do exactly that, by taking once again a look at our first three characters: Amma, Yazz and Dominique. 

The first chapter of the novel introduces us to Amma, a black woman in her fifties, who after having fought the establishment for all her life, has been given the chance to stage one of her original plays at the prestigious Royal National Theatre. Amma’s symbol is the Okodee Mmowere. Reminiscent of the talons of an eagle, this figure is said to represent the bird’s strength, bravery and power. Three traits that can indeed be made out in the trajectory of her life. As we meet Amma, as she is on her way to the theatre, reminiscing about the life that has led her to this break-through moment, we learn that she comes from a working-class family, her mother being a secretary, and her father a former journalist turned ticket collector. Her siblings, three brothers, have made their way out of precarity, by opting to become lawyers or doctors, whereas she decided to pursue a career in the arts. Her initial attempts of landing a job in the acting-industry however fail, as she is not only put up only for parts such as “a slave, servant, prostitute, nanny or crim”[1], but also encounters her fair share of racist regisseurs and is not “prepared to betray their politics to find jobs”.[2] It is at one of these unfortunate job castings that she meets Dominique, who not only becomes her best friend, but also her work partner, as the two of them decide to start a theatre-company called “Bush Women”. Under the umbrella of the company the two of them produce plays which tell the stories of Black and Asians women stories, their motto being “On our own terms or not at all”.[3] Although this cooperation finds its untimely end, as Dominique leaves the United Kingdom for a lover, Amma does not stop to write and produce plays, which eventually ends up landing her a gig at the National. Here she will be staging her original play “The Last Amazon of Dahomey”, an exploration of the all-female regiment of warriors that existed in the Kingdom of Dahomey, in today’s Benin in West Africa from the early 17th century until the late 19th century.

Given the endurance one can make out in Amma's career trajectory alone, one could say indeed that Amma is a very headstrong person, who is not only brave, but also willing to put her own financial comfort second for the sake of her art and speaking her truth. However, we can not only make out this strength in the decisions she made for her professional life, but also in those she makes in her personal one, as she opts for having a daughter outside of the traditional relationship éncadre, asking a friend of hers to father her a child and co-parent it with him. Though she receives a lot of support from her peers, one can assume that this is a choice which is not exactly one cherished by the wider society. Funnily enough, not only her Akindra symbol, but also her very name, seems to be a nod to the creative power, we observe in both her professional, as well as her personal life, as Amma is also the name of the supreme creator god of the religion of the Dogon people, in Western Africa.[4]

Yazz is Ammas daughter. Her symbol is the Duafe, a wooden comb that represents feminine qualities such as patience, prudence, fondness, love and care. But, as we argued in class, also a certain degree of preoccupation with one’s appearance. This preoccupation can indeed also be made out in the novel, as we learn that Yazz is somewhat worried, that she hasn’t had a boyfriend yet[5], which leads her to comparing herself with her girlfriends, especially to Courtney whose “translucent skin”[6] and “milkmaid breasts”[7] typically attracts a lot of attention when they are in town.[8] Even greater than her interest in her own outward appearance is however her desire to come across as an educated and cultured individual. This can be observed in many situations throughout her chapter and the remainder of the novel, as we often see her opt for rather elevated vocabulary to express the simplest truths:

Yazz tells Waris it’s important to counterbalance the state of being cerebral with the state of being corporeal. Waris asks her if she means they need to do physical activity because they spend so much time thinking? Yes, that’s it Yazz says, making elaborate movements with her arms as she dances. Why didn’t you just say so then?[9]

She is furthermore very critical of her dad and his career as a professor of modern life,[10] as well as of her mum and her ambivalent behaviour towards gentrification and class-struggles.[11] However, the most poignant situation seems to be when she tells Morgan that she wants to become non-binary because it is considered to be “woke”.[12] Nevertheless, we also have to acknowledge, that she is clearly the centre of her friend group, being the one who decides who gets admitted to it,[13] and cares deeply about each of them. For example, she feels deeply sorry for her friend Waris who wears a hijab,[14] and finds herself being attacked for it rather often, and defends her whenever she gets the chance too.[15]

Last but not least we have Dominique, Ammas best friend who moved to America to be with a woman named Nzinga whom she has fallen madly in love with. Dominique’s symbol is the Ese ne Tekrema, which represents teeth and togue, and thus stands for improvement, advancement, growth, but also for the need for friendliness and interdependence. Dominique, like Amma, arrives in London as a young woman, who wants to pursue a career in the arts. She however realizes early on that this is not exactly an easy task, especially not for a lesbian woman of colour, as she constantly buts heads with her acting teachers due to incentives on cross-gender and cross-racial castings.[16] She furthermore struggles with money, as well as the insanity of London’s rental market. This eventually leads her to claim that she is being abused by her father in order to get into a shelter.[17] Ironically enough, she later really ends up entering an abusive relationship, when she meets the ominous Cindy, better known as Nzinga, who poses her an ultimatum and thus incentives her to move to a piece of wimmin’s land dubbed Spirit Moon. Despite Nzinga’s controlling and later also violent nature and behaviour, Dominique stays with her with three years and is only able to escape the abusive relationship when Gaia, the owner of the plot, steps in to grant her guidance. In the following we see her depart for Los Angeles, where with the help with Gaias friends, as well as a support group for victims of domestic abuse, is able to heal and grow. Whereas her initial wish for a harmonious relationship, but in particular also a wish to be mothered[18] has led her to let herself be pushed around by Nzinga, she later grows to become once again self-assured and self-determined. She furthermore ends up finding personal success, as she not only becomes the founder of a Women’s Arts festival[19] but also meets Laverne who she marries and adopts a set of twins with.[20]

As we can see, by looking at each of these three examples, the Akindra symbols correspond fairly well to the respective characters, as not only the traits they bear, but in particular also their individual path of life reflects the symbol’s meaning to a greater degree.

[1] View Bernadine Evaristo: Girl, Woman, Other. London 2019, p. 16.

[2] View Ibid, p. 28.

[3] View Ibid, p. 28.

[4] Brittanica: Amma. Online: https://www.britannica.com/topic/Amma (last accessed 10.12.24).

[5] Yazz sometimes has sleepless nights worrying she’ll be alone for the whole of her life if she can’t get a proper boyfriend at nineteen what hope is there for when she’s older?. View Evaristo: Girl, Woman, Other, p. 90.

[6] View Ibid, p. 105.

[7] View Ibid, p. 105.

[8] The serpentine cruisers ignored Yazz who was way to dark for them (yeh and they can piss off) they boldly slow-stripped Courtney with their eyes as if she was a chambermaid Courtney got off on it, loving the attention Yazz didn’t want to break the news to her. View Ibid, p. 116.

[9] View Ibid, p. 101.

[10] I mean, how on earth can you be a professor of Modern life, when your terms of reference are all male, and actually all-white (even when you’re not she refrained from adding). View Ibid, p. 79.

[11] Mum says Sylvester should stop sniping at other people’s success (hers) and that as he won’t change with the times, he has been left behind you mean the way you felt not so long ago, Mum? Ever since she landed the National gig, she’s got very snooty about struggling theatre mates, as if she alone has discovered the secret to being successful (..). Curwen uses antiquated expressions like “right on” and likes to keep it real by frequenting the dingiest pub in Brixton where the old timers sit around still moaning about Maggie Thatcher and the Miner’s strike, one of the few pubs that haven’t been turned into a wine bar, gastro-pub or champagne bar, as Mum whinges as if she herself wasn’t part of the gentrification of Brixton years ago as if she herself isn’t a frequenter of the artsy hotspots like the Ritz (…). View Ibid, p. 74.

[12] So this Yazz came rushing up at the end of the class to exclaim that the lecture (lecture?) was mind-blowing, and she was thinking of becoming non-binary as well, how woke was that? She said excitedly, like she was going to embark on a trendy new haircut. Morgan let the kid down gently (…). View Ibid, p. 524.

[13] She liked Courtney and if she liked her she was in the squad. View Ibid, p. 107.

[14] You’ve really suffered, Yazz says, I feel sorry for you, not in a patronizing way, it’s empathy, actually I haven’t suffered because they lost their loved ones and their homeland, whereas my suffering is mainly in my head. View Ibid, p. 100.

[15] Yazz sees the dirty look Waris gets when they’re walking through town. She gives dirty looks back on her friend’s behalf. View Ibid, p. 97.

[16] The only person colour in the whole school she demanded to know why the male parts in Shakespeare couldn’t be played by women and don’t even get me started on cross-racial casting, she shouted at the course director while everyone else, including the female students, stayed silent I realized I was on my own. View Ibid, p. 20.

[17] She slept rough under the Embankment arches and in shop doorways along the Strand, was interviewed by a black housing association where she lied and cried about escaping a father who’d beaten her. View Ibid, p. 18.

[18] As the weeks passed, she heard people share their life stories and reach life-changing epiphanies. When she took the plunge, she discovered it was indeed cathartic. She came to appreciate that as the oldest girl in a family of ten, she’d had to mother the younger ones when she’d been deprived of being properly mothered herself. As soon as she was born, her mother was pregnant with another child and each newborn baby had to have her mother’s full attention. Dominique worked out she’d been drawn to Nzinga because she was subconsciously looking to be mothered. View Ibid, p. 175.

[19] View Ibid, p. 176.

[20] They wanted children, adopted baby twins, Thalia and Rory whose parents had been killed in a gangland shooting. View Ibid, p. 180.

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Bernadine Evaristo on writing, influences and Girl, Woman, Other. Somehow I could only find this (horribly dubed) german version - which is weird because it's arte, so there should be a French version around somewhere. i asked the viewer service about it, i'll update!

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The Men (or rather Laurence and Gerald) and the Empire in the “Last September”:

In today’s session we dedicated quite some time to talking about Laurence, touching among other things upon a conversation he has with Gerald during the second chapter of the novel. It is this conversation and its implications for Geralds relationship with Lois which I found to be especially interesting, and which I would like to comment on in the following.

For context, Gerald has just come over unannounced, in order to see Lois, making use of an invitation which Lady Naylor had issued on an earlier occasion, without a doubt without expecting him to follow suit so immediately. After having sat through lunch, Laurence takes Gerald aside, under the pretext of having a smoke with him. As we agreed that Laurence usually shows little to affection towards the other residents and their visitors[1] and additionally tries to escape any sort of social interaction[2], this might seem odd at first. But as a matter of a fact, Laurence seems to rather enjoy situations in which he is able to outsmart people, or to even downright show them up. His talk with Gerald seems to be no exception, as Laurence must know, that let alone due to his Oxford-education his own argumentative capacities must exceed Gerald’s by quite a bit. Moreover, when Laurence asks Gerald more or less directly about his opinion on the war and its rightfulness the latter is already morally challenged, as he came to Ireland to simultaneously fight for and against a nationalist cause – a fact that he is actually well aware of.[3] Subsequently, he is described to be both “flattered but uneasy under Laurence’s interest, which had indeed, for the simple, the awkward menace of someone preparing to cast a net”.[4]

Nevertheless, Gerald does not attempt to avert Laurence’s questions, answering that he thinks that the situation  “is rotten”,[5] but that “right is a right”[6]. During the conversation that ensues, he furthermore adds that “from the point of view of civilization”[7] and “looking back on history” that “we”[8] - and thus the English - “seem like the only people”.[9] As we have discussed in class, these statements show, that Gerald really believes in the idea of the Empire, a fact that is echoed by Lois at the end of the novel, when Laurence, in a rather desperate attempt to console her about Gerald's death tells her: “I expect – I don’t know – one probably gets past things”[10] and she answers: “But look here, there are things that one can’t –“ (She meant: “He loved me, he believed in the British Empire.”).”[11]

The fact that Lois is linking Gerald’s belief in the Empire and its course to the love he felt for her suggests that she believes them to be in relation, or rather that one acted as an extension and validation for the other, an idea that is supported by literary scholar Ann Owen Weekes.[12] She sustains her claim through referencing one of Gerald’s letters in which he writes: “What I am doing this morning seems so important – although it keeps me away from you – because I am doing it for you.”[13] As this statement, and also the remainder of the letter shows[14] Gerald seems himself not only as the defender of the ambitions of his homeland, but also as Lois’ protector, as he is “doing what he is doing”[15] for her. He labels her as his “integrity”,[16] believes in her to be “perfection as a woman”[17] and yet seems intent on changing her, as the following passage suggests:

He took up the Spectator, read an article on Unrest and thought of the Empire. Mechanically his hand went up to his tie. He looked ahead to a time when it all should be accurately, finally fenced about and all raked over. Then there should be a fixed leisured glow, and relaxation, as on coming in to the from an afternoon’s gardening with his mother in autumn. He turned in thought to confident English country, days like the look in a dog’s eyes, rooms small in the scope of firelight, neighbourly lights through trees. He thought of a woman, kind and palpable who should never produce this ache, this absence… A door dragged forward its portiere; Lois came in from the diningroom brushing rain from her frieze coat. He stood for a moment in a kind of despair at her agitation, as though he were trying to take her photograph. Then he stepped forward and kissed her, his hands on her wet shoulders (…). But she was his lovely woman: kissed.[18]

As we can make out in the text, Gerald wishes for a woman who is “kind and palpable”[19], qualities that Lois, who “produces ache and absence”[20] has not. Taking both this and his unprompted kissing and the fact that he calls Lois “his lovely woman”[21] immediately into account, one cannot help but think that he sees both her, as well as her (despite her inbetweener status as Anglo-Irish) home country as empty canvases who he has to instil with his ideas and ideals. Or as Weekes puts it: “Though Gerald is attracted to Lois, he sees both the future of their relationship and the future of the Irish nation as a metamorphosis into purely English norms”.[22] However, he fails in both regards, as he dies, Lois leaves and Ireland gains its Independence in 1921.

[1] Laurence was comfortable to talk to because of his indifference to every shade of her personality (…). He had brought the wrong book and dared not go down for another; otherwise, he would not have felt in need of her conversation. View Elizabeth Bowen: The Last September. London 1998, p. 26-29

[2] Her cousin Laurence had gone upstairs with a book when he heard the motor. Now she could hear hi knocking out his pipe on the windowsill. View Ibid, p. 24.

[3] Gerald would have wished to explain that no one could have a sounder respect than himself and his country for the whole principle of nationality, and that it was with some awareness of misdirection, even of paradox, that he was out here to hunt and shoot the Irish. View Ibid, p. 180.

[4] View Ibid, p. 178.

[5] View Ibid, p. 178.

[6] View Ibid, p. 178.

[7] View Ibid, p. 178.

[8] View Ibid, p. 178.

[9] View Ibid, p. 178.

[10] View Ibid, p. 381.

[11] View Ibid, p. 382.

[12] View Shannon Wells-Lassagne: He believed in the Vampire. Colonial Concerns in Elizabeth Bowen’s The Last September. In: Irish Studies Review 15 (4), p. 456-463. Here p. 456.

[13] View Bowen: The Last September, p. 306

[14] And what I am doing this morning seems so important – although it keeps me away from you – because I am doing it for you. It is awful to think of you here in Clonmore and not to be able to get to you, and yet it is wonderful to think of you waiting, and of who you are waiting for being me. Lois, your dear cold arms were so lovely, I mustn’t think of them now. All your life I am going to keep you and wrap you up and protect you and never let you be cold again. View Ibid, p. 306.

[15] View Ibid, p. 306.

[16] View Ibid, p. 100.

[17] View Ibid, p. 100.

[18] View Ibid, p. 170.

[19] View Ibid, p. 170.

[20] View Ibid, p. 170.

[21] View Ibid, p. 170.

[22] View Wells-Lassagne: He believed in the Empire, p. 457.

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British soldiers overlooking Dublin © https://erinascendantwordpress.wordpress.com/

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Sex and Desire in “The Last September”:

In today’s session we spent a significant amount of time speaking about our main character Lois and her sexuality, as there can be found quite a few lines that allude to her being homosexual. Not only does Lois proclaim herself to be a “woman’s woman”[1], she is also startled by the appearance of Mrs. Vermont and Mrs. Rolfe,[2] as the “suspicion of some deformity that these ladies produced in her became so acute that she smiled more widely”,[3] as well as quite taken with Marda, one of Naylors visitors. This feeling seems to be somewhat mutual, as Marda takes an immediate liking to the younger Lois, seeking her closeness: “Marda came up after her and took her arm. Lois started. She could not think of anything to say, Marda was not even trying; they went up silently”.[4] This becomes especially evident in the mill scene, which we also dedicated a lot of time to speak about in class. Here Marda and Lois decide to enter an abandoned mill, an endeavour which seems to be at once a source of fright, as well of delight to our main character Lois as she exclaims: “Oh, I can’t come in, oh I can’t possibly. Oh, it’s beastly here, I feel sick. I think you are quite mad.” To which: “Marda put an arm round her waist, and in an ecstasy at this compulsion Lois entered the mill.”.[5] The two thus cross the threshold together, an act which could be read as symbol, that alludes to them crossing societal boundaries as their relationship shifts from platonic to erotic. As we are faced with an ellipsis, we can however only imagine what ensues before their moment of solitude is interrupted by the appearance of an Irish rebel and his pistol (and thus as we discussed by a specifically heterosexually coded source of danger).

The romantic nature of Lois and Marda is furthermore emphasised by the stark contrast it poses to Lois rather passionless engagement to the Englisch soldier Gerald Lesworth, who pursues Lois throughout the entirety of the novel, despite her giving him little reason to do so. When he is made aware of Lois rather cold demeanour by Lois’s aunt Lady Naylor, he confronts the young girl, who is clearly unable to stifle his doubts, as she can not bring herself to lie and tell him that she loves him. Yet she seems also unable to let their relationship go, as it is a source of security and thus comfort for her. According to her own statement, he is her “rock”[6] and thus also a tool to escape a world that seems to her to be a net, woven of “little twists of conversation”,[7] ensnaring her and making her unable to move on her own accord. This corresponds with the fact that whenever she seems to feel especially oppressed, for example when she feels looked over by Marda[8] or is faced with the rebel she comes to the conclusion that she has to marry Gerald.[9]

In the conversation that ensues Gerald finally says: “I suppose you are what I mean by life… Do you understand at all?”. To which she replies: “You sometimes make me”. She wanted to add: “Touch me now”: it was the only way across.”[10] This sentence I found to be especially touching. To mee it seems to convey that Lois knows that the only way for her to keep Gerald close is by playing into his (heterosexual) desires and giving up her body to him, though she never really seemed to enjoy his touch. For instance, when they kiss earlier in the novel the scene is described as the following:

She stood, perplexed at the edge of the path; he kissed her with frightened violence. The laurels creaked as, in his arms, she bent back into them. His singleness bore, confusing, upon her panic of thoughts, her physical apprehension of him was confused by the slipping, cold leaves. Her little sighs elated, then alarmed him. “What’s the matter?”, he said, his lips close to her face. “I don’t like the smell of the laurels. Let’s come out of here”. They went back, she put up anxious hands and asked him about her hair. “Is it twiggy and awful?” “Lovely”. She wished that he were a woman.[11]

Especially the last sentence seems to be very telling in this context. As their break-up talk goes on, she is furthermore described as feeling impotent and desolate “at not being compelled”[12] by him, seemingly regretting that she cannot bring herself to feel anything for him. In a last attempt to save their relationship, she furthermore makes a „beseeching movement, which he, remote in a rather sublime perplexity that transcended pain, either ignored or rejected.”[13]

 Her taking a physical step towards him despite her obvious reservations against bodily touch furthermore shows how much she is willing to give up herself in order to keep him around. As Gerald however dismisses her efforts, she is prompted to shout: “Gerald, you’re making us lose each other!”[14] a very ironic statement given the source of their argument. Their conversation is however cut short by the six o’clock bell which “sent out relief in a jerky, metallic passage of sound through the plantation”.[15] As their sound echoes through their conversation one cannot help but think of the sound of death bells, which could allude both to the end of their engagement, as well as foreshadow Gerads imminent death. This sentiment is strengthened by Gerald’s statement that “all this”[16] is “like death”.[17] Lois however grows more and more detached from the situation thinking instead of “going, hesitating with delight, to the edge of an unknown high-up terrace, of Marda, of getting into a train.”[18] a sequence which once again might show, where her heart really lays.

[1] “I think”, she said, “I must be a woman’s woman”. View Elizabeth Bowen: The Last September. London 1998, p. 193.

[2] They were so womanly, she could have turned and fled back down the beech walk. “Donne ch’avete intelleto d’amore”, she thought to herself wildly. And the pause, the suspicion of some deformity that these ladies produced in her became so acute that she smiled more widely. She buttoned her cardigan up to the top, then unbuttoned it. View Ibid, p. 369.

[3] View Ibid, p. 369.

[4] View Ibid, p. 175.

[5] View Ibid, p. 236.

[6] View Ibid, p. 359.

[7] View Ibid, p. 358.

[8] View Ibid, p. 188.

[9] Marda, a hand on the frame of the doorway remained unmoved, but Lois could not but agree with him. She felt quite ruled out, there was nothing at all for her here. She had better be going – but where? She thought: “I must marry Gerald. View Ibid, p. 238.

[10] View Ibid, p. 358.

[11] View Ibid, p. 325.

[12] View Ibid, p. 359.

[13] View Ibid, p. 356.

[14] View Ibid, p. 358.

[15] View Ibid, p. 358.

[16] View Ibid, p. 359.

[17] View Ibid, p. 359.

[18] View Ibid, p. 358.

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Stills taken from Deborah Warner's "The Last September".

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Excerpt from "Searching for Sapphists" by Katherine O’Donnell:

By the early modern period theories as to the cause of lesbianism fell broadly into two camps, much the same as today there were those who thought that lesbians were born queer and there were those who thought that lesbians who were taught to be deviant. Some argued that lesbians were female hermaphrodites who had enlarged clitorises, who preyed on „innocent‟ women and that this species abounded in the dark continents of Africa, India and the Far East and there were those, like Dean Swift in early eighteenth century Ireland, who saw lesbianism as an unnatural vice of the overly educated and culturally refined woman: “entirely the Productions of Art and Reason” (…). Ireland’s rich literary tradition is similar to Greece in being rooted in a highly sophisticated oral culture and like Classical Greece the textual fragments that remain of the earliest poetry by women contain unabashed depictions of romantic and erotic love between women (…). Nineteenth century Anglo-Ireland was fascinated with the literary depictions of lesbians: Edgeworth's Belinda, introduced us to the redoubtable Harriet Freake who favoured dressing in men’s clothes leading Lady Delacour astray with night-time adventures and duelling escapades. In a memorable scene she literally bursts out of her female attire, but has her just reward when she gets mangled in a mantrap that so disfigures her legs she is never again able to wear men’s clothing. Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla is one of the first literary depictions of a vampire; in this case, Carmilla the vampire is a typical nineteenth century literary creation of monstrous women in that she is a lesbian. George Moore's A Drama in Muslin gives us another creepy lesbian in the character of Cecilia, a hunchback, who although Protestant, finds that her „scarcely sane‟ passion for Alice is synonymous with a desire to be a Catholic nun. Twentieth century Ireland owes a lot to Irish lesbians, particularly to a network of lesbians living in Dublin, many of whom met each other through their involvement with the suffrage movement and many of whom later became actively involved in the Revolution, in Trade Unions, local government and the issues of poverty such as healthcare and social housing.

Katherine O’Donnell: Irish Lesbian History: Searching for Sapphists. Online: https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&opi=89978449&url=https://researchrepository.ucd.ie/rest/bitstreams/6231/retrieve&ved=2ahUKEwiRu967_bWKAxULSaQEHWbxHBUQFnoECBQQAQ&usg=AOvVaw3d_n8m00CgzxkHcncxSG5x (last accessed 15.11.24), p. 1-10.

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Found this article that features a quick abstract of a book by literary scholar Anna Charczun that focusses on Irish Lesbian and comments on “Bowen’s adolescent lesbian characters “bracketing” heterosexually centred narratives, which is mainly achieved with a variety of narrational techniques to demonstrate the development of lesbian narrative in the early 20th century”. (sadly, I had no access through my university library).

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Danielstown and the Gothic:  

In today’s session we dedicated a lot of time to talking about both the Gothic elements that can be found throughout “The Last September”, as well as the phenomenon of the Anglo-Irish country house. In the following I would like to comment on both of these topics, referencing two very interesting pieces of research. The first one of these is a text by the literary scholar Stephen Ross titled “Elizabeth Bowen’s Uncertain Gothic”. In this he comments on an introduction Bowen had written for a collection called “The second Ghost Book”, which features short stories from a wide range of British writers, including Cynthia Asquith, Lord Dunsany, Walter de la Mare and Bowen herself. Here Bowen states:

In former days, Christian burial of ill-used remains, the evening-up of an ancient score or putting right of a wrong used to settle the matter; now it is not so simple. Ghosts seem harder to please than we are; it is as though they haunted for haunting’s sake—much as we re-live, brood and smoulder over our pasts.[1]

Ross comments on this line of thought, arguing that “there’s a sense of history and tradition already at work here, a version of continuity in which the original reasons for doing something are lost but the force of convention alone urges its further repetition”.[2] This statement seems to hold much truth for the “Last September”, as Lord and Lady Naylor and by extension also their guests seem to be stuck in a never-ending performance of a mode of life that clearly belongs to the past, as the world around them is changing at an increasing rate. This is however ignored at all times, as stolen glances,[3] averted eyes,[4] and in some cases even conversations between the characters show.[5] The novel, as Ross in acknowledgement of literary scholar Sinead Mooney writes, thus becomes one of constant paralysis and continuing impasse,[6] in which an “automized repetition allows for an ordering of existence without the necessity of ever taking action”.[7] This never taking action seems to be what is weighing on Lois as well, as she often finds herself reminiscing of getting out of Danielstown in some way or another, but can never really bring herself to do so, except for in the end, when the reader is informed that she has left for Tours to improve her French.[8] Interestingly, she is not the only one, that is discontent with her stay, as Laurence wishes he could escape to Spain[9] and Marda begins to regrets his visit in a matter of hours.[10] Taking all these sentiments into account, it seems as if the house is indeed weighing down on his inhabitants, rendering them restless, while turning them stuporous at the same time.

But how? If we follow Teresa Trout’s argumentation in her dissertation “The modernist country novel” it becomes clear, that the country house is not only an architectural landmark, but also a social stage, as it functions as both a home, as well as a public medium, by displaying wealth and power and in the context of the Anglo-Irish specifically the wealth and power of a colonial power ruling over the country.[11] Trout thus dubs the country-house a “show-house”, their residents an ever-changing set of actors.[12]

Throughout the novel we can see an acknowledgement of this double naturedness to the extensive use of theatre-based vocabulary in relation to the country, the house and its inhabitants: “Here the few beeches stood, unrelated, lovely, desultory; between their trunks – the tall mountains, vivid in a suffusion of distant light. The scene glittered”[13], “Recollection of Laura were now wiped for him from the startingly green valley, leaving the scene dull”[14], “Hugo was pleased with the place; here he seemed to have stepped through into some kind of non-existence. And here, divorced equally from fact and from probability, he set up a stage for himself: the hall’s half-light”.[15] or “She could not hope to explain that her youth seemed to her also rather theatrical and that she was only young in that way because people expected it. She had never refused a role.[16] Pairing this with the history-infused interior of the house which among other things encompasses a “crowd of portraits”[17] under whose constant surveillance the family is placed, as well as a “troop of ebony elephants brought back from India by someone she did not remember”[18] that has been placed on “two locked bookcases of which the key had been lost”,[19] and the lack of any personal stories that the family members could accord to any of these objects, it becomes clear, that the house is a greater agent of the family’s history than the family itself.[20] Rather than them leaving their mark upon Danielstown, their relation to Danielstown has forced them to do the exact same things as their predecessors have, namely, to wear lavish costumes and throw great parties and uphold an image, that has become more and more outdated.[21]  

As we discussed in class, the Gothic generally speaking presents readers with an uncanny present whose origins lie in a traumatic past which have to be expiated if a viable future is supposed to come about.[22] It however simultaneously caters to a prurient interest in the perversion or diversion of political, economic, familial or sexual acts that are purged through a commitment to a conservative future.[23] But whereas in Dracula for instance the vampire is killed, and the patriarchal and heterosexual order of the late Victorian society is restored, “The last September” does not end with the successful defence of the house. Instead Danielstown goes up in flames, and even if we are not told the ensuing events, one can assume, that Lord and Lady Naylor are now being displaced and the land that their English ancestors claimed is being returned to the Irish. The usual Gothic convention is thus confounded, at least if we do not take into consideration, that the erection and existence of Danielstown itself might be seen as the real perversion of the novel.[24]

[1] View Elizabeth Bowen: Introduction to the Second Ghost Book. In: The Green Book. Writings on Irish Gothic, Supernatural and Fantastic Literature 9 (2017), p. 7-10. Here p. 8.

[2] View Stephen Ross: Spectrality in Modernist Fiction. London 2023, p. 134.

[3] She glanced closely at Mrs Carey’s profile, to see that her exact shade of meaning had been taken. View Elizabeth Bowen: The Last September. London 1998, p. 218.

[4] Sir Richard and Lady Naylor, not saying anything, did not look at each other, for in the light from the sky they saw too distinctly. View Ibid, p. 387.

[5] How far do you think this war is going to go? Will there ever be anything we can do except not notice? View Ibid, p. 159.

[6] View Ross: Spectrality in Modernist Fiction, p. 134.

[7] View Ibid, 134.

[8] “Oh no”, said Lady Naylor surprised. “Tours. For her French you know.” Bowen: The Last September, p. 383.

[9] “I have no money; where do you expect me to get any money from? I was to have gone to Spain this month with a man and last year I should have gone to Italy with another man, but what do you expect me to go on? I have to eat somewhere, don’t I, and here it is simply a matter of family feeling.”, View Ibid, p. S. 90.

[10] “But I really should not have come back here”, she said. “There is something in Lady Naylor’s eye: a despairing optimism.”, View Ibid, p. 159.

[11] View Teresa Trout: Open to the Public: The modernist Country House novel. Online: http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:42029702 (last accessed 01.12.2024), p. 154.

[12] View Ibid, p. 93.

[13] View Bowen: The Last September, p. 162-163.

[14] View Ibid, p. 230.

[15] View Ibid, p. 332.

[16] View Ibid, p. 68.

[17] View Ibid, p. 53.

[18] View Ibid, p. 27.

[19] View Ibid, p. 27.

[20] View Trout: The modernist country house novel, p. 166.

[21] View Ibid, 154.

[22] View Ross: Spectrality in Modernist Fiction, p. 134.

[23] View Ibid, p. 134.

[24] View Ibid, p. 151.

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Bowen’s court © Mark Bence-Jones, Quarterly Bulletin of the Irish Georgian Society