When beginning this novel, I was not thinking of themes, and just started writing. I wished to present an intelligent woman from an earlier time, when the expectation was to marry and have children. Many women might have found this emergence into domesticity a perfect match, and were happy to step out from home, or the workforce, to take up this professed ideal. But what about the women who found the reality far from ideal? I only had to look back at my own family dynamics and those of friends, to hazard a guess at some of the answers. To write about a woman who railed against the institution of marriage, I needed to ask questions of myself – what would her thinking be? How would she behave towards the children she gave birth to, because it was the expectation, and not a personal decision? These were times when women had little or no access to birth control and were considered aberrant if they stepped out from the norm. The realisation dawned for my character, and others like her, that any dream she may have nursed of being a singer, pianist, or any other desired profession, had been swallowed by the demands of a growing family and the lack of personal income, decision making, and choice.
These were the sort of questions I tussled with right from the first chapter. How would I present such a challenging character, with her conflicted thinking, and behavioural patterns, yet have readers find some warmth and concern for her well-being? A hard ask indeed! I would need to show this woman baulk against convention, yet struggle with the dichotomy her behaviour created within an environment where women generally conformed to the societal conventions of the time.
Other themes became more salient as the story grew; from the time my character, Marjorie, found herself in a position to live her dreamed-of-freedom from family ties. She set off boldly into this new domain, and began to forge her way as a single entity again, taking up interests which marriage had purportedly subsumed. There is one dominant strength the character certainly possesses – resilience, and resilience also underpins the family’s dealings with her throughout the narrative.
As the story unfolds, memories of Marjorie Forsythe’s tragic childhood punctuate her story: a father killed at war, a mother who cannot cope, and is unable to offer warmth and affection to her child. This child was alone, and unloved. When these aspects of her upbringing are revealed, we sense where the protagonist’s emotional detachment may have stemmed, unwittingly or not, when we see the development of a similar emotional detachment towards her own children. This character has certainly been affected by the lack of nurture, which has thwarted the involvement and development of latent creative talents, and financial constraints, such as the attainment of a higher education. From such a background, it is not surprising my character was unable to foster more fulfilling relationships with her family and friends, yet conversely, she develops warm attachments to her adult students.
Marjorie had an agenda for what she wanted from her single life and explores every opportunity that presents itself with vigour. She achieves some success and satisfaction with activities she explores; dance lessons, different employment, learning a new language and writing, to name a few.
What Marjorie fails to learn, however, for all her intellectual capacity, is the ability to understand how her behaviour affects others, more specifically her family and friends. She struggles to alter her attitudes, although she does make attempts to do so. However, Marjorie herself does much to lighten the weight of some of these issues I’ve presented in the novel, as she delivers many memorable retorts and laugh-out-loud moments, with irony, metaphor and a quick-fire wit.
And without spoiling the pleasure of reading about this rather incredible woman, I cannot tell you more, except, Mrs Forsythe will keep you turning the pages right until the last.