Love & War
Siân James is one of Wales’s great twentieth-century writers. Born in 1932, James began publishing novels about the lives of twentieth-century Welsh women in the 1970s and ended up writing thirteen novels, two collections of short stories, and a memoir. She also translated other Welsh writers works into English. She died in 2021 at the age of 90. When searching for her stories, it becomes quickly clear; she wrote in both Welsh and English. Like many contemporary Irish or Indigenous writers whom I adore, James’s writing embraces the distinct language and culture of her native Wales. I heard of her from readers in Australia and the UK, and have looked for her novels for a while. Her works are very difficult to find in the States. My library (in Idaho) got me a copy through interlibrary loan (all the way from Tulane University in New Orleans). When I visited Portland, Oregon last month, I searched for a copy of Love & War at one of the largest independent bookstores in the West; none of her titles appeared on their shelves. In response to this dearth of James’s novels in my part of the world, I bent my book buying ban and ordered a copy from a bookseller elsewhere. By the time it arrived, I had finished the interlibrary loan copy, but I am thrilled to add Love & War to my collection.
Siân James’s Love & War (2004) is Rhian’s story through, as the title suggests, wartime and love in a Welsh village. The twenty-four-year-old school teacher married her high school sweetheart when he was home on leave during WWII. Despite being married for three years when the novel begins, they have only lived together fourteen days. Their romance is more one of obligation than anything else. Awkwardness seems to punctuate their relationship which is almost entirely epistolary and via his parents with whom Rhian never really connects. A hard working, successful young teacher in her early twenties (some of Rhian’s inner thoughts of teaching secondary English had me laughing out loud), Rhian also finds herself a dowdy-feeling wife with a long-absent husband and an overly prying mother-in-law. It is clear: something inevitably must change.
Early in the novel, Rhian heads out on a capricious errand to buy herself a new dress, thinking, “Why should I spend my whole youth being middle-aged” (9). And it is with this same humor-laden tone that the first-person novel continues. Rhian finds herself torn between the increasingly aggressive romantic advances of the older art teacher (with whom she was once enamored when she was a student) and the obligations of letter writing to her absent husband. As the novel progresses, Rhian must navigate and determine her own ethics as she decides what love and duty are in war. Ultimately, she must decide if one’s duty lies in serving others or satisfying oneself.
In Love ove & War reader is along for the ride through the Welsh countryside as Rhian’s romantic life unravels. War certainly provides a unique context for decisions of the heart. Both Rhian and the reader must determine what to make of her circumstances and how to judge the path she chooses to tread. Love & War is a novel that captures what I imagine to be the Welsh spirit (hard to say for certain having not yet visited). It wraps all the human experience one might expect in wartime—the longing and love, the grief and heartache—into Welsh village life punctuated by a dry sense of humor that I loved. Suffice it to say, Love & War makes for great armchair travel. James’s works deserve to be read widely, and I hope to see her titles at bookstores and libraries closer to home in the future.
Bibliography:
Curtis, Tony. “Siân James Obituary.” The Guardian. 9 Aug. 2021: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2021/aug/09/sian-james-obituary
James, Siân. Love & War. Selen: 2004.
A Few Great Passages:
“On the whole, I quite like teaching, but beginning a new school term is like stepping into a tunnel: struggle, repetitive work, struggle, with examinations and the summer holiday in the far, far distance” (8).
“Occasionally I can sense a little of that idealism in some of my Sixth Formers, but on the whole, teaching is uphill work, thirteen- and fourteen-year-old boys being as unresponsive to literature as an average herd of cows. In fact, you can recite poetry to cows and receive a flattering amount of attention; raising their large, mild eyes, they gaze at you without blinking or chewing the cud, while boys smirk and pass rude notes and anatomical sketches to one another” (8).
“‘You see everything in black and white, Rhian, and life isn't like that. Isn't it better to compromise about certain things? Isn't it better to be fairly good and fairly happy than to be entirely blameless and miserable?'” (34).
“‘Don't ever be sorry for a man. They always end up having the best of it’” (47).
“One way or another you'll make a mess of your life, just like everyone else. You'll do nothing and regret it or you'll do everything and regret it. Take your pick” (48).
