In this third book, Jennifer Worth largely reverts to the format of ‘daily’ life based around the life of the convent, and some of the more memorable, less straightforward, deliveries that she and her fellow midwives were called upon to perform. She doesn’t entirely abandon her portrayal of extreme social hardship, so graphically and vividly portrayed her second book, “Shadows of the Workhouse.’
It is that innate ability flowing forth, to communicate with such graphic, vivid, convincing, and compelling reality; which has firmly grasped, held, and enraptured this grateful reader. Jennifer Worth’s (neé Lee) practical and strongly empathetic observations left me unsurprised to learn that from 1973 she had pursued a successful second career in music. By comparison, fiction as a genre rarely achieves the same realism: with, I feel, the notable exception of J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Lord Of The Rings” – but then to achieve what he did, Tolkien had to create an entire fictional mythology; an absolutely stupendous amount of work!
To review this third book on its own is difficult, because my overall response will likely have been shaped by reading the other two books, and, a year ago, viewing the first BBCTV series. I really loved the very, very, funny (but oh so true to life) account of Chummy & David’s marriage, and the meeting of the two families eyeing each other up in church during the marriage service, and how (up to a point) the monumental differences between the upper and working classes were in part healed at the wedding reception afterwards. I don’t want to give too much away. Read it for yourself.
Suffice to say that like the first two books I found this third book very, very, difficult to put down. What moved me most? It’s hard to say. Chummy climbing up a somewhat dodgy long rope ladder at night to deliver a newborn on board a Swedish ship (yes, work that one out); and, secondly, the identical twins who share a husband. Those, to me, are perhaps the most memorable; and I doubt that the Swedish ship episode will appear on screen as published! The account of the work of a back street abortionist, needed by a very desperate woman, is uncompromisingly and horrifically brutal, and desperately sad, but really should be read by EVERY teenager, girl and boy alike, and objectively and emotionally discussed within the family.
The 2012 Olympic Games in London were marketed to invest in and improve the quality of the physical infrastructure of the East End. On foot I have barely scratched the East End of London: one need go no further than the Whitechapel Bell Foundry and the Museum of Childhood to catch an impression of the area. From a carriage running on the Docklands Light Railway I remember passing (in 2010) tenement buildings in Shadwell that looked like some portrayed in Mrs Worth’s books; excepting that they were open on the fourth side; such that I could see coloured (not white) sheets hanging out to dry on the walkways; though no sign of life. What a success those Games were! I hope that they have raised aspirations, such that residents of the new flats, houses, and local amenities will re-discover a sense of the old pride of the East End.
Two social interactions mentioned by the author which governed life in the old East End, are physical violence and community singing. The former is, alas, still with us, not improved by the use of illegal drugs; the latter has been seen off by the invention of technology which isolates the listening individual from group participation. More striking is her description of the havoc wreaked by disease; two examples being in the tragedy and treatment of tuberculosis (a victory even now, in 2013, not entirely won) and the massive social change resultant from the invention of the chemical contraceptive pill. Throughout the 1950s the Sisters delivered around 100 babies per month; a figure which by 1964 had fallen to 4 or 5 (pg. 313).
That massively rapid fall in birthrate has revolutionised the lives of women, and is something that I am extremely thankful for. I’ve been gifted the time to play, to read, to be educated, to play my part in creating a strong and productive family, and to financially contribute to the economy of my country. Jennifer Worth’s three books can easily be read as though describing an unknown country to those of us who never had direct experience of life during the period she describes, let alone the preceding centuries; and who perhaps even now are guilty of indulging in dreams of gilded fantasy surrounding the apparent charm of aristocratic life before the First World War? Realistically who would choose such a life of unremitting and backbreaking hard work, without privilege and, worse, without power? Who would prefer to live the short, hard, brutal, life of poverty or destitution, as known by the vast majority of the population?