Anglo-Saxon Attitudes

The cover of the NYRB edition shows a Tenniel illustration to Lewis Carroll, from whom the title is taken. But though Angus Wilson's 1956 novel may be comedy, it is unusually complex and dark, and certainly neither fantasy nor farce. If anything, it is a morality play, with a large cast of characters listed at the start (including sections for those already dead and others only heard offstage). It is a dense and difficult book, with an exposition lasting almost half its length; only at that point does Wilson begin to pull the threads together, though he does so in increasingly satisfying ways. The book opens with a (fictional) 1912 report from The Times about the excavation of the tomb of a seventh-century bishop at Melpham in East Anglia. Shockingly, the tomb also contained a priapic wooden figure, suggesting the mingling of early Christianity with paganism. Fast forward to the 1950s and to Professor Gerald Middleton, a distinguished historian, resting somewhat on former academic laurels and living on private means. Middleton, who was present at the Melpham discovery as an undergraduate, is now being asked to undertake the editorship of a important series of publications in British medieval history. He is curiously reluctant to accept, for reasons that will turn out to have a lot to do with the moral implications of that original excavation. The most extended sections of the book deal with the academic world, with bitter rivalries between professors in a manner familiar from the works of C. P. Snow (and later David Lodge). But the abstract moral questions raised by Melpham soon become more personal, as issues resurface that make Middleton question his long-established loyalties. His battles with conscience are reflected in his dysfunctional family too, as we move forward to a Christmas party at the house of his estranged wife (one of Wilson's finer comic creations) and meet his two sons: Robin, a company manager, and John, a social activist and television pundit. In a series of flashbacks, we also learn more about Middleton's more or less open romance with a mistress, and see Robin repeating virtually the same pattern in his own marriage. As the circle of characters widens to include artists, do-gooders of various types, petty crooks, and even a rent boy, so the range of moral issues also increases to a bewildering degree, taking in not only questions of basic human decency, but also social matters specific to the British welfare state in the nineteen-fifties. I feel the moral thrust of the book is weakened by being aimed at too many targets. Yes, Wilson does pull it all together, but his juggling becomes rather obvious. Yes, he paints on a broad social canvas, but his lower-class characters are less well realized than those from his own circle. His portrayal of the in-bred academic world is fun, but too hermetic for most tastes. All the same, he does create some memorable characters, and offers a time-capsule of an all-too-forgettable time i

There is something mysterious about this book. I don't know if it is the old english nature of the book or what but I really like this book. John

An English friend involved in archeology introduced me to the concept of the essential importance of the provenance of an artifact in determining its significance. The artifact must be viewed within the context in which it was found, otherwise it is meaningless. The provenance of an idol, involving a sad practical joke, and deeper Oedipal emotions is the heart of Wilson's novel. This one joke reverberated throughout the English medievalist academic world for 50 years, and one reflects on the old aphorism that the quarrels in academia are so bitter because the stakes are often so trivial. Was it of any significance to anyone that a famous 7th Century bishop might have backslide into apostasy? Perhaps the provenance of the idol is a useful metaphor for examining English society in the mid-50's. The significant cast of characters, drawn from a broad swath of that society, act out their fates based on their own location within the society. Yet there will always be some upward mobility, as well as some backsliding for the schemers. The relationships between men and women are universally sad, with a dominant driving force being "accommodation." Wilson is an excellent writer, and it was a delight to read his historical slice of England, wry humor and all. I thought of the early days of the Internet, slow modem connections, the downloading of pictures, pixels at a time, first one rough pass, then another, finally the entire picture comes into sharper focus. Wilson writes in that fashion, a rough pass, a hint of something deeper, and then he returns over the events, and the picture deepens and intensifies. Such novels are vital for the perspective they bring to the present, how some things truly are new, but mainly, much is repetition of the same human drama, with all its aspirations and flaws.

Early on in in "Anglo-Saxon Attitudes," a character is described as having an /affaire/. One wonders if this (1956) is the last time when an English author writing in English would have treated this discreet reference to indiscretion as a foreign word. Is it the concept that the English regarded as alien? Or is it merely a pathetic effort to bury it under a veil of respectability? Or a tacit acknowledgment that the French have more fun? Whatever the answer, the italics are a delicate way of identifying this entertaining novel as a creature of its times. Indeed the action is dated (and the novel feels) a bit earlier-dating back the Atlee administration, when Britain was still reeling with exhaustion from World War II; when the socialists were busy trying to nationalize British industry, while the the Anglo-Persian Oil Company was busy trying to privatize Iranian oil. Wilson makes it pretty clear that he intends to write a period piece from the very beginning: there is a cast list, and it runs to nearly two pages. For a novel of just 336 pages (in Penguin), this seems a bit much, and indeed quite a few of them are little more than sketches. No, more than a period piece: Wilson wants to write a panorama of his time. This is an ambitious undertaking, and would be perilously easy for him to have fallen on his face. He has not quite achieved all he strove for, but perhaps remarkably, he hasn't really fallen on his face either. There isn't a lot of action, but there are some excellent character studies and a few good set pieces. There is some good comedy, but perhaps not quite as much as the author intended. Also of note: this must be about the first mainstream British novel to include explicitly gay characters (and not very nice ones, at that). For comedy, Wilson is not Evelyn Waugh; for compulsive readability, he isn't quite Graham Greene. On the other hand, he isn't really striving to be either. He's himself: entertaining and rewarding, with nothing (much) for which to apologize.

Odd that this is the first review. Angus Wilson and this book are not exactly literary unknowns. Kate Winslet (yes, Titanic's Kate Winslet) appeared in the 1993 TV version of Anglo-Saxon Attitudes.But back to the book. Prof Gerald Middleton world is re-built by confronting and uncovering certain truths - which he has evaded for forty years. Like the historian he is, Middleton re-constructs his past and in doing so really does re-enter the present. It really is a bit of a morality play but wonderfully funny with a perfect sense of closure at the end. Like Dickens or Tolstoy, there are innumerable characters. The essential story line was formed around the Piltdown forgery. Piltdown man had just been declared a hoax in the early '50s. But for forty years those who knew or suspected kept quiet. Likewise, Prof Middleton suspects an archaeological hoax of a similar kind committed forty years ago by friends and colleages. But he says nothing. Until ... well, that is essentially the beginning of Anglo-Saxon Attitudes.