Penetrating Sanity: A Tribute to Elizabeth Jane Howard

Elizabeth Jane Howard needs little introduction, at least to British readers. Her son-in-law, the author Martin Amis, paid tribute to her “penetrating sanity” and pronounced her, with Iris Murdoch, “the most interesting woman writer of her generation.” The Light Years, the first volume of what was to become the Cazalet Chronicle, appeared in 1990 and three more followed in swift succession (Marking Time, Confusion and Casting Off). Readers were introduced to a sprawling, well-to-do (but, importantly, not an aristocratic) family, first in the years between the wars, and then as war tightened its hold on the country, and the family. In the books children were born, men were lost at war, tragedy struck with the deaths of first Sybil then the Brig (the father of the three Cazalet sons, Hugh, Edward and Rupert), and marriages rocked and finally broke under the strain. The first two books were serialised for the BBC, and in spring this year all four were abridged in a memorable radio production. This autumn saw the publication of a fifth book, All Change, bringing the family saga up to the early 60s. Tragically, this extraordinary achievement for an author who had just turned 90 has now become a poignant swansong to her literary career.

While not strictly historical fiction by some definitions, since Howard was born in 1923, the books offer a most detailed reconstruction of English life, starting with the turbulent decade spanning 1937–1947. The Cazalets mirror any number of affluent, middle-class families whose fortunes were made in industry, in this instance timber, and this is why Howard calls them an “ordinary” family, although the word fails to do justice to the extraordinary cast of characters. Yet this is far from the world of Evelyn Waugh: the “Duchy,” the matriarchal lynchpin of the family, spends much of her time sewing clothes and curtains, and is concerned that none of the children “get above themselves.” Much of Howard’s writing was undoubtedly autobiographical: “I did live through the war and I had a large family, so I used some of them and made up quite a lot of the others.” Readers were given an insight into how much she had used when her “searingly honest” autobiography, Slipstream, was published in 2002. Howard’s memories have been compared to the finest vintages laid to rest over the years. “You write from direct experience and also vicarious experience – anyone who reads novels should know that!” But any thought that this might be straightforward is capped by her next words: “You can’t write more than you are … that’s why it’s important to go on growing up.” She herself felt that her work improved with age: maturity gave her insight and revealed her gifts as a shrewd and accurate observer of human character.

Her writing also reflected her career as a female writer. She described herself as “a sort of seething feminist… I like the company of other women and I feel for them quite desperately.” In the Cazalet Chronicle, it is the female characters who stand out – even the less likeable ones, like Edward’s brash second wife who treats Rachel Cazalet’s half-Jewish partner, Sid, despicably. Howard never passed judgement, and there is no god-like narrator to dispense judgement: the fluent succession of interlacing viewpoints enable Howard to revisit such incidents and review opinions. For all the difficulties of her own life, Howard remained remarkably optimistic about human nature. While the author’s affections did seem to dwell on the three cousins, Louise – the most autobiographical of all the characters – Polly and Clary, her portrait of their former governess, Miss Milliment, is extraordinarily poignant.

Historical accuracy is clearly an important part of Howard’s work. The domestic detail is superb: the interiors of Home Place, the family’s country house in Sussex, are described in vivid detail, down to the freezing bathrooms, much kitchen paraphernalia, tapestry cushions and faded curtains. Equally true is her analysis of the fate of many “family firms” in the postwar years of All Change: business was different, names and connections counted for less, professional management skills for more. The certainties of the family’s middle-class life founder when the demands of a bank manager turn from veiled threat to reality and bankruptcy looms.

Howard was a novelist of extraordinary verve, and the popularity of her work will prove a fitting legacy. As Hilary Mantel wrote on the cover of Howard’s last book, “she helps us do the necessary thing – open our eyes and our hearts”.

Footnote: Elizabeth Jane Howard died on January 2, 2014. A short interview for this article was due to be recorded in early December, but in the circumstances proved impossible. I would like to express my condolences to the author’s family and my thanks to her publicist, Jacqui Graham.

About the contributor: Lucinda Byatt is HNR’s features editor.

______________________________________________

Published in Historical Novels Review  |  Issue 67, February 2014