The Brandons – Angela Thirkell (1939)

I’ve said before how I really need to be in the right frame of mind for Angela Thirkell. Well clearly, I chose the perfect time to read The Brandons, I can honestly say it is my favourite one of hers to date. Deeply charming, and gently humorous, I found there was less of the silliness that I have encountered in previous Thirkell novels.

For those readers who love Tony Morland he and his mother are friends of the Brandons and make another appearance in this novel. If you are one of those readers who can’t stand him – he isn’t around much.

Set in a golden interwar period in the fictional Barsetshire, first created by Trollope, The Brandons is typical, ironic, cosy middlebrow fare. Almost everyone it seems has money, if they don’t have money they are in the fortunate position of working (often in service) for someone who does have money, generally in pleasant surroundings, where they are treated well. Everyone has an allotted sphere in life and no one steps outside of it – and should one of Thirkell’s central characters be unfortunate enough to not have much money – we are generally assured they are of very good family – lest we imagine they are of a lower order. Those lower orders exist on the periphery – the children contract chicken pox – the parents sob in gratitude over every little bit of help they are given. In short – The Brandons is of its time, but it is very, very enjoyable – and while it may not offer us a completely accurate portrait of 1930s society, it is a world I revelled in unashamedly for a while.

Mrs Brandon is a very beautiful, slightly ditzty widow with two young adult children.

“Francis and Delia again exchanged glances. It was a habit of their mother’s to make them entirely responsible for any difficulties brought into the family by the late Mr Brandon, saying the words ‘your father’ in a voice that implied a sinister collaboration between that gentleman and the powers of darkness for which her children were somehow to blame. As for Mr Brandon’s merits, which consisted chiefly in having been an uninterested husband and father for some six or seven years and then dying and leaving his widow quite well off, no one thought of them.”

Mrs Brandon is a woman everyone simply adores and for whom almost every man who encounters her develops a crush. Francis and Delia are the grown-up children – if it was ever revealed what (if anything) Francis does I failed to register it – Delia is nineteen (but comes across as about fourteen) – and is ghoulishly fascinated by anything and everything relating to accidents and illness. Francis and Delia’s Nurse is still very much a part of the family, and is frequently found chasing Miss Delia around complaining about the state of her knickers.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, madam,’ said Nurse, ‘but I thought I’d better speak to you. It’s about Miss Delia’s knickers’ she continued, after a glance at the Vicar and a rapid decision that his cloth protected him. ‘She really hasn’t a pair fit to wear…”

Everybody’s main concern is who will elderly spinster Miss Brandon, leave her crumbling abbey to. Miss Brandon has been threatening for years to leave everything to a never seen cousin, unaware that neither Mrs Brandon or her children really want to inherit. Marshalling her offspring to visit the old lady – having been prompted by a letter from Miss Morris; Miss Brandon’s companion, they find her even more confined to bed then formally. They are surprised to meet Hilary Grant, a young man studying classics with their vicar Mr Miller – and who it is revealed is the son of that cousin, and now a possible legatee. Hilary, Delia and Francis become fast friends, deciding that if one of them should inherit – they will share it. Hilary Grant, is a sensitive young man, and has unwittingly fallen under Mrs Brandon’s spell. He isn’t the only one, there have been moments when Mr Miller has cast a dewy eye her way too. To his horror Hilary’s mother decides to visit from Italy – staying at a local hostelry, everyone feels obliged to entertain her regularly. Mrs Grant is the kind of character Thirkell writes so well, loud, tweedy and opinionated. She loves nothing more than to talk about her ‘Calabrian peasants’ at every opportunity. In the midst of all this, Miss Brandon’s health seems to be deteriorating and Mr Miller has a fete to organise, and he really could do with some help.

Mrs Brandon is very delightful, she could so easily have been irritating but happily Thirkell makes her gloriously lovable. Both Hilary Grant and Mr Miller are writing books, and they will come and try and read bits to Mrs Brandon, who is always so easily distracted – and is forever having Nurse or the gardener coming to talk to her that they never get very far at all. Mrs Brandon is particularly concerned by Miss Morris, the lot of the literary companion is not always a happy one, and poor Miss Morris has been rather put upon. Mrs Brandon is completely in her element when she is trying to improve the lot of Miss Morris – who naturally is the most capable and sensible character in the novel.

In some ways, not a huge amount happens in the Brandons, but it is the gentle humour and affectionately drawn characters that drive the novel, making it a lovely, gentle cosy read.