Something Hidden by Nick Blackstock
In a mystery novel it is taken for granted that the plot is supreme and, whatever else happens, the author must never lose control. The plot in this novel is, as they say, ‘multi-layered’. From time to time certain aspects will be touched upon but, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do it justice in the form of a blog.
As to the characters who appear, the principals are the engine driver involved in the fatal crash and a junior reporter on a Bristol newspaper, together with his girl friend, later his wife. Other, mainly fictitious, characters do make an appearance, but there are also some real people of that period including one very prominent person. (Note to publishers. I’m assuming there is no statute of limitations as far as libel is concerned, so I’ve been very careful as to how these people are portrayed.)
Having got the main dramatis personae out of the way, let me say something about times and places. The novel is set mainly in London and, to a lesser extent, the West Country. The period covered dates from the late nineteen-twenties, through the thirties and includes the early years of the war and the blitz.
Now the well worn aphorism has it that, ‘if you remembered the sixties you weren’t there’. Paradoxically, most readers were not around in the thirties either, yet from reading and TV documentaries, most people feel they ‘remember’ the decade. The images come all too readily to mind: dreadful unemployment, hunger marches, fascist and anti-fascist riots. Since, at the time, London tended to be the focus of most of these movements, there is a tendency to conflate the capital with the economic depression of the time and its consequences. In general this was not so. Unfair as it might have seemed to people in the provinces, relatively speaking London was doing very nicely. Tube lines were being extended, suburbs were expanding, car ownership was growing and business, once the crash of twenty nine was out of the way, was flourishing. If you were in work (and most people were) it was an exciting place to be, offering the opportunity to move onwards and upwards. Economics apart, the literary world also helped to confer something of a rosy halo on life in pre-war London and the South East, as poets such as Betjeman and novelists like Delderfield (‘Dreaming Suburbs’) used this ‘feel good’ factor to paint a picture of the period.
As the thirties went on and particularly as war approached, the mood changed. Baldwin’s much quoted remark that ‘the bombers will always get through’ merely reflected the growing realisation of the vulnerability of big cities and their inhabitants. At the same time, there was a desperate hope that the ‘Great Powers’ would not, could not, let war happen again.
Eventually, of course, war did come. It came first as a ‘phoney war’, then as a full scale blitz on big cities. Of course bombing was not confined to the capital, but because of its size, transport infrastructure (deep tubes) and numbers of casualties, London tends to be synonymous with the blitz. I have studied the period, but of course I was not there. Relatives, however, have passed on stories and these tend to centre around fear, lack of sleep, homes destroyed and damaged, together with casualties. An uncle of mine disappeared during that time. He left his brother’s house with the intention of seeing him the following week, but never came back. His brother kept up the search until long after the war only to conclude reluctantly that he must have been in one of the tube stations that had been hit. No doubt there are all too many sad stories like that.
The thirties started with the aftermath of a great economic crash, moved on to more hopeful times, began to turn darker with the approach of war and finally ended with the trauma of war itself. I know I’ve said quite a bit about these times, but it provides the essential backdrop against which those involved play out their lives and hopes. So what I have tried to do is to recreate the sense, feel and, above all, ‘taste’ of a society during a life changing period.
Well I think I’ve gone on quite enough about the novel, so for the remaining two days I’ll take a break and say something (don’t worry – not much) about myself and my approach to the writing process. Last week, Ben made some very interesting points about new (or nearly new) authors and the publishing process. So I hope to add my two pennyworth to that debate also.