The Pursuit of Love (and Something Greater)

Having just finished Nancy Mitford’s The Pursuit of Love, I must confess that, once again, I have been thoroughly charmed by the Brits.  To be more exact, I should say that I have been won over by a well written story with equal parts wit and wicked humor.  As with the last two novels I’ve read, the narration style, the characters, and the ever-present humor were all entirely, blissfully British to the very core.

Cool house I found in Portland that looked
vaguely Victorian so I included it...and it's my
blog, so I can!

The early chapters, which illustrate the more humorous aspects of childhood and growing up, are delightful. These chapters describe Linda Radlett and her colorful family, adventures at the family home, Alconleigh, and small stories of growing up in pastoral England.  I was particularly amused by the annual “child hunt,” a family tradition at Alconleigh where two or three children, selected by their father, set out across the family property, running wildly to create a trail for the hounds to follow.  Some time later their father would set out with his pack of well-trained, friendly hounds to track the children.  The “hunt” ended when the hounds caught up to the children and set about licking faces and receiving well-earned doggie treats.  The neighbors and friends thought this tradition barbaric (and indeed, it does sound…odd to say the least), but, I, like the Radlett children, thought it delightful and ingenious.
As the title suggests, the main story arc follows Linda as she searches for true love.  Besides describing “child hunts” and other similarly outrageous stories, the early chapters detail Linda’s obsession with love.  This obsession led her to marry the first man who charmed her; determined to find love, Linda convinced herself that she loved an utterly boring Tory named Tony.  Some time later, still a true believer in love, Linda left Tony to marry Christian the Communist.  Christian, too, proved a disappointment, and, alone at a train station in Paris, Linda finally met Fabrice.  She quickly became enthralled with Fabrice, experiencing real love and romance for the first time.  These are the chapters that ultimately won me over.  For the first time in the novel, Linda committed herself to something, throwing herself entirely into her new life with Fabrice.  She seemed to finally take interest in life and in love, giving the story greater weight and importance.  I invested myself in the story because Linda finally invested herself in her own story.
Although the story revolves around Linda and her quest to find happiness, I didn’t find her an entirely likeable character.  The narrator, her cousin Fanny grew up close to Linda, and the love Fanny felt for Linda makes Fanny a less-than-reliable narrator.  Where an objective observer would see a foolish, shallow, and self-centered (but certainly well-meaning) young woman, Fanny was more charitable, forgiving Linda her faults and shortcomings and, in general, portraying Linda in a favorable light.  Like Fanny, most characters in the novel instantly adored Linda, won over by her charm.  It took me most of the novel, though, to find myself truly invested in Linda’s story.  After Linda’s failed attempts at love, her absolute joy and happiness with Fabrice charmed me where her silliness and amiable nature couldn’t.  In spite of myself, I was so intrigued in Linda’s story that I was tempted to skip to the end to discover whether or not Linda found a happy ending.

This horse has absolutely no relation to any-
thing, but it's inherently beautiful (like the
novel) and I like pictures in my blog.  Deal.

As I said in my introduction, I have been charmed by the Brits.  This time it was Mitford’s quirky British humor that so appealed to me, as well as the fascinating clash of old attitudes and new, the Victorian versus Edwardian.  This was most notable in the various characters’ responses towards relationships.  On the one hand, most of the characters were appalled when Linda left her first husband, Tony; Linda’s parents stoutly refused to recognize Linda’s subsequent divorce and marriage to Christian.  No one looked harshly on Fanny’s mother, though, for repeatedly leaving her husbands for her next fling.  Though they called her “the Bolter,” the nickname was given with affection and everyone treated the Bolter with the same bemusement they would a mischievous child.  This coexistence of attitudes, this social hypocrisy, could have been present in America and American literature as well (and I’m sure that a perusal of twentieth century lit would reveal several instances), but the flair with which this story is presented is, to me at least, inherently, beautifully British.
I was also deeply touched by a small exchange between Linda, Fanny, and their uncle Davey.  The three, huddled together, discuss the Great War and the resumption of war in Europe.  Linda laments belonging to a “lost generation,” convinced that history would count the two wars as one, discounting entirely the inter-war years.  Davey contends that the era may not be entirely forgotten; instead, it will be portrayed as a “literary curiosity” as future generations become interested in the fashions and furniture of the 1920s and ‘30s.  The exchange is brief, taking up only a couple of paragraphs before slipping back into a lighter tone, but it’s striking nonetheless.  The discussion is notable in part because it is one of the few times that Linda adopts a serious tone.  More importantly, though, writing in 1944 or 1945, Nancy Mitford would not know how history or society would view the Lost Generation.  Nor did she know how the inter-war period would be portrayed, and yet she displays brief but keen insight.  Knowing how both the novel and the war resolve, this moment is memorable and touching.
I admitted in my last post that I can be rather pretentious at times.  I can now admit that, while I undertook this project in an effort to find some unknown element that my life is lacking, I have another motive.  I want to be one of those elevated figures who can wax on about the literary strengths and weaknesses of Dickens or Dostoyevsky, et al.  My heavy bookshelves would somehow enrich my life.  Thus far it has.  I have developed a better appreciation for the world of spy novels, having encountered two of its great foundations, and I have discovered several new points of interest for the historian and scholar in me.  More than that, though, I have found books that truly delight me.  I expected to like The Way We Live Now because I enjoyed the Masterpiece Theater production.  Being already acquainted with the characters and plot, I could focus on the various storylines and better appreciate Trollope’s themes and his critique of British society.  Novels like The Riddle of the Sands and The Pursuit of Love, however, were completely new to me.  Had I not undertaken this endeavor, I’m afraid I probably would have remained ignorant of their existence.  So while I look forward to reencountering old favorites like To Kill a Mockingbird or The BFG, and finally reading novels like Emma, I am also eager to discover more literary gems as I continue this project.