August was a brilliant reading month for me, but one plan which never came to fruition was to read a Virago title for the usual All August/All Virago challenge. Somehow, the mood was never right – but I did read a book which would fall into the category of similar kinds of book, and we do allow those, so I suppose I can count today’s work! The British Library Women Writers series is taking a similar approach to the Crime Classics by re-issuing lost works by 20th century women authors. I’ve covered some titles before, and was very intrigued when I saw they were putting out a title by Elizabeth Berridge. I loved her “The Story of Stanley Brent“, which Mike Walmer rescued back in 2020, and so “Sing Me Who You Are” was always going to be a must-read for me. I’m glad to say it turned out to be just as brilliant as “Stanley Brent”, albeit very different.

I am *loving* how clever this cover design is!!!

“Sing…” was published in 1967, some 22 years after Berridge’s debut with Brent in 1945; and she had a long publishing career, releasing works from the 1940s to the 1990s. Set in the so-called swinging decade, “Sing…” follows 37 year old Harriet as she makes some radical changes to her life. Her mother has died, and her aunt has left her a mouldering bus parked on land owned by her cousin Magda Witheredge. Instead of just visiting the bus as she normally does, she’s decided to sell up and move in; and as winter is approaching that might not be the best decision.

Also living at Uplands, Magda’s fancy house on the farmland she’s inherited from her mother, is her rather distant husband Gregg. The class divide is still in place here, with most of the farm work being done by the Everett family, particular farmer Ted. The local town of Maxmead is also split the same way, with the ‘gentry’ concerned with the need for housing to be built locally for the working classes. Meirion Pritchard, the editor of the local rag, is a friend of the Witheredges, and there are numerous local cronies of Magda’s who have fingers in all sorts of pies involving the local council and planning permissions.

However, this is not only a book which looks forward to the changes in society which were rumbling in the surface all through the decade. All of these characters are old enough to either remember World War 2, or indeed have taken part in it; and many are still haunted by their experiences in the conflict, unable to move on. Hovering over the whole book is the presence of Scrubbs Malone; a family friend from a troubled background, a feckless charmer, he seems to have touched the lives of all of the characters in the book. As Harriet tries to settle into her new life, she will find affection from unexpected sources, encounter startling recollections of her past, suffer loss and find an unexpected offer of a new direction – but will she take it?

“Sing…” is a brilliantly written book which pulls you in from the start but very cleverly keeps you gripped by gradually revealing parts of Harriet’s life and past. Scrubbs is mentioned early on, but his life, fate and affections are only revealed bit by bit; and in a couple of places, Harriet uses the brand new technology of reel-to-reel tape to record her memories of him. There is so much she hasn’t known about, partly from being a child when the War was on, but just about all of the family secrets come out in the course of the novel. She’s a brilliantly conjured character, spiky yet vulnerable, and despite her veneer of independence, you sense that she’s desperately searching for a place and purpose in her life, having spent so much time sacrificing herself to care for others.

All the same Harriet stopped and looked over to the right, where the long curving lake was outlined by rising mist and the bamboo plantations marched along the far end. From the water came the heavy smell of autumn and she knew without moving a step that the flat leathery water-lily leaves quilted the lake, with drifts of wild plum and willow leaves for stitching. Aunt Esther had always loved to watch these changing colours. She had made, years ago, a patchwork bedcover, matching the silks and velvets to the faded tapestry colours of the tough water-lily leaves, the brilliant drifts of red plum, the frail yellow hair of willow.

The supporting cast are well-drawn too; Magda and Gregg are no cardboard cutouts, both capable of good and bad; Meirion is an engaging foil; and Scrubbs springs fully formed from the memories others have of him, viewed from so many different perspectives. It’s worth remembering that the 1960s were so much closer to WW2 than they are to our own times, and I can recall when I was little that there were still abandoned bomb shelters at the back of a local woods near some demolished houses – the shadow of the conflict lingered on for a long time…

However, the heart of the book is of course Harriet’s story and I did become very invested in her, wanting things to go well for her, hoping she would find her place in the world and be able to cast off the influence of her past. The ending was welcome, if perhaps a little unexpected, as Berridge threw in a curve ball about two third of the way through the book which I didn’t expect at all. There is early exploration of ecological issues, which was a fascinating aspect; and I ended “Sing…” feeling that I really do want to read more of Berridge’s work.

As usual with the BLWW series, the book comes with excellent supporting information, including an afterword by Simon Thomas (from Stuck in a Book and my co-host of our reading weeks); he’s series consultant on these books and provides some interesting thoughts about the book and its context.

There’s scanty information about Berridge out in the wider world, and although she published intermittently she was also a regular newspaper critic, as well as writing plays. Certainly, on the evidence of the two books of hers I’ve read, she’s most definitely deserving of rediscovery; I hope that more of her work comes back into print, but in any event I shall be looking out for older editions of her books!

(Review copy kindly provided by the publisher, for which many thanks!)