I have never previously read a book by Margaret Drabble, which seems a bit of an oversight as she is a highly regarded twentieth century author. I saw Jerusalem the Golden on the Book Table at my local Sainsbury’s in October anddecided to take it home and read it at some time. It might have lingered for years on my to-be-read pile except for the happy coincidence of having a colour related title. The book was written in 1967 and my paperback copy was published at much the same time. This makes it rather tired, with discoloured pages and a grubby cover but all the text was present, albeit in a smaller font than we usually use these days.
The book is a coming-of-age story of Clara. Clara is a bright girl born into a bleak Northern town and a family with few ambitions. When her father dies Clara seems to battle against her mother’s ideas about how she should live and what her future should be. She feels repressed by her background and environment and struggles to escape to a different life while always feeling that the town, and her mother, are pulling her back.
Eventually, Clara makes it to London where she studies and mixes with artists and people who live a less repressed life than she has known. She becomes embroiled with the Denham family who are engaged with the arts and live in a way that she craves. She makes a friendship with the daughter and starts an affair with a son, who is married, whilst always trying to keep her freedom and to resist returning to her childhood home.
I have to confess that I found it difficult to like Clara, and I think that the author may not have intended me to. She is completely self-obsessed and she hurts a lot of people to gain what she wants out of life. I was also a bit distressed by the descriptions of the fictional Northern town from which Clara originates as being without culture and having low expectations of the young women who live there – it seems like too much of a stereotype and an ungenerous one.
I didn’t hate this book, but I didn’t love it either. I would have a go at another book by this author if I saw one, but I wouldn’t hunt one down. This copy will go back to Sainsbury’s for another reader to try.
Anne Is Reading 