The Trumpet in the Dust

The Trumpet in the Dust / Constance Holme

London: Oxford UP, c1921.

216 p.

I thought I'd start off 2020 with a book published in the 1920s -- in 1921, to be precise. This little book is one I picked up while second hand book shopping this year. It's unusual because it was included in the Oxford University Press World's Classics Series, along with all of Holme's other novels and her short stories. No other author had their complete oeuvre included. Why was that? She must have known someone, is all I can think. The other authors in this series are all well known. 

In any case, on to the book. It takes its title from a long epigram, an excerpt of a poem by Rabindranath Tagore about taking up the trumpet of duty. It kind of gives away the plot right there. 

Ann Clapham is a charwoman in an English village. But at the book's opening, she is going to give notice to her clients -- why? Because she's applied for an almshouse and is nearly sure to get it. This long-held dream of hers is repeated over and over, and Holme is amazingly thorough at creating tension that lasts the entire first section of the book as the reader waits to see whether Ann Clapham's hope of her retirement home is going to be fulfilled or not. I've never felt such tension while watching someone wait for the postman. 

This first "act" is then followed by three more. In which Ann Clapham expresses joy at life, visits her idyllic potential home, and then takes up the trumpet of duty. It's pretty clear from the first section what the outcome of all this waiting and excitement is going to be, and while I could see it coming, I was pretty annoyed when it turned out just like expected. The Deus ex Machina requirement at the end is expected but quite unnecessary and silly. Why is it noble to always make good women suffer, and to have them prove their goodness by taking on more suffering, willingly? Argh. Old books. Sometimes they illuminate, but sometimes they irritate. 

The good points of this book lie in its examination of female relationships -- gossip, 'good' women vs. slatterns, domesticity, the home as a temple and most of all, maternity and its many facets. Holme has a sense of personalities, and imbues her nearly completely female cast with variations that individualize them very clearly. The slight differences in class are clearly telegraphed as well. But she can certainly draw out a brief, predictable plot into a 200 page book. Of course, this edition was a little pocket book so the pages were also brief! 

So, an interesting excursion into tragic English countryside, but to my mind, Mary Webb does it better and more thoroughly. Constance Holme feels like a bit of a cheaper version for the wider readership. Not sure I'll be looking up more of her work, but I did find this one interesting for its reflection of the crushing expectations on women of the time, even if the author found them more noble than crushing.