This is the first Winifred Holtby book I’ve read, and I’m still deciding, quite frankly, what to think.
Teddy Leigh, losing his mother and in turn inheriting her debilitating illness of consumption, dreams of a comfortable, fulfilling life. “When should he say, ‘’And Thou, O Lord, art my comfort?” Nobody was now his comfort, neither the form master who had praised his translation of the Eclogues that afternoon, nor the slatternly housekeeper who made him toast for tea and worried kindly about his cough, nor, certainly, his father, drowning sorrow in a stream of compound interest...
At a recruiting meeting in the autumn term of 1914, he had found the peace of mind for which he had prayed so long. Here was the perfectly clear and simple issue. Here was the sacrifice no longer chosen with hesitation, but demanded... He had set about, carefully, cautiously, knowing the difficulties of his past record (of illness), to enter the army.”
Little did Teddy Leigh know that his troubles were just beginning.
“And he had been cheated. Here, as ever, fate had robbed him of satisfaction. There had been no splendid sacrifice, no simple and sufficing act of courage. He had hoped for an honorable return, or for a poppy-covered grave, a simple cross, and his name living for ever more. He found himself imprisoned in a military sanatorium.”
If the military and serving in the war were not enough to give Teddy a sense of satisfaction, neither did his marriage to Joanna. Joanna had dreams of her own; dreams of travel, of finding her ‘land of green ginger’. Instead she finds herself bound in marriage to an invalid returned from the war, a self-absorbed war veteran whose dreams of honor have turned to dust and who must for health reasons, turn to farming and fresh air rather than the scholarly, academic life as a vicar he yearns for.
The farm itself is not only hard unending slogging with debts mounting yearly, but when foreigners move into the area, Joanna’s trials increase. Never truly accepted by the villagers, and already looked upon with suspicion, her innocent friendship with the hired man (who happens to be Hungarian), is turned into scandal. Even the local vicar Mr. Boyse, seemingly sympathetic to the Leighs, now decides he must ‘do something’.
“He knew now that he had been right in his judgment of her as a trifle odd. It was not merely because she wore green stockings, and said smart, uncomfortable things, and brought up her children badly, and proved herself to be no housekeeper; but because of that dangerous levity of manner, that impression which she created of temporary and incomplete adjustment to circumstance, as though she had never managed to settle down in life, as though her business of being a wife and mother were somehow not quite real to her. Almost it seemed as though she were playing at being herself, and not quite serious.”
Joanna is nothing if not gallant. Persevering, always hoping that things will get better for the farm, for her marriage, for Teddy, for her children, she is an admirable character and convincingly portrays the term, ‘never give up’.
“…lying on the sands or bathing in the sharp delicious water, Joanna had planned her future life. No more dreaming over inaccessible countries. Here was her country. She would learn the arts which should subdue the stubborn earth. She would rear stock and sell milk and butter, and her eggs should be the talk of the countryside.
One day, perhaps, when she was a wealthy farmer, and the children had left school, they would sell the tumble-down old place and wave farewell to the dark circle of heather, and set off on their travels…”
If you are looking for a light, happy-go-lucky pleasant read, you won't find it here. Holtby’s writing (in this novel, at least), realistically portrays the bleak monotony of unremitting labor for little return, the exhaustion of debilitating illness and their stressful effects on marriage and home life. Although at times the reader is uplifted by Joanna's courage, her admirable traits are balanced with hardship and unending disappointments. This novel, although ending with optimism, was for me a sad commentary on small-town prejudices, precipitate choice, and the futility of naïve expectation. If the author's purpose in writing "The Land of Green Ginger" was to portray the sad effects of war, poverty and bigotry upon society, she has succeeded. 3.5 stars