A portrait of a young woman, whose destiny remains unchanged by the historical convulsions around her, is a curiously uplifting read
“No English novelist ever suggested more unspeakable things, and got away without being understood, than me in that book,” wrote Arnold Bennett to a friend after The Old Wives’ Tale was published in 1908. The novel received almost universal critical acclaim – so much so that Bennett is alleged to have responded: “I don’t read my reviews, I measure them.” But appreciation for the book has been curiously muted ever since. It’s never been out of print, but it’s not exactly set the world alight, either.
I first read it out of homage to my Midlands industrial ancestry and expected an earnest exposition of the “it’s grim up north” mindset. I certainly didn’t expect scenes like this:
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