‘English Climate’ by Sylvia Townsend Warner

The Second World War gave something of a boost to the short story in the UK: wily magazine editors managed to work the paper rationing system and authors were often able to respond relatively rapidly to current situations and concerns. This means that some stories from this period hinge on details of cultural history that can now seem obscure, but the best authors manage to convey the pressures and anxieties of the moment without getting bogged down in explanation. In Townsend Warner’s story, a young man goes home on leave. During his departure from his army camp, and as we follow him on his journey, we learn how much he’s looking forward to browsing the small library he’s accumulated in his bedroom at his parents’ house. When he arrives in his home town to find that a “Salvage Drive” is in progress, including a “Book Mile” laid along the road, it’s hardly a surprise to the reader that his treasured volumes are among those destined for pulping. And then, before he can go and rescue them, it starts to rain… Exhorted to be part of the war effort, and not affected by bombing, the town’s residents want to do what’s expected of them. But the son, the combatant, wants everything to remain unchanged, not understanding the complexities of what it means to be part of the ‘Home Front’. It’d be easy enough to condemn the mother who gave away her son’s precious books for recycling: but the lack of understanding in this story is multi-directional.

First published in The New Yorker, 1943. Collected in The Museum of Cheats and Other Stories, Chatto & Windus, 1947

‘The Children’s Grandmother’ by Sylvia Townsend Warner

Sylvia Townsend Warner, alongside Katherine Mansfield and Chekhov, of course, writes what I define as perfect short stories. Her stories are little jewels that encapsulate single occurrences, but that reflect images of entire lives lived, and contain other stories within. ‘The Children’s Grandmother’ is a bit different, though. An unnamed narrator thinks back on her role as a mother, wife and, more importantly, daughter-in-law. Her story unpacks the dynamics between herself and “the children’s grandmother”, as she mostly refers to her mother-in-law. It quickly becomes clear that the presence of the narrator’s children shapes their relationship, mostly underscoring differences in values and expectations. The grandmother is a formidable, somewhat domineering presence in the household. She exerts her influence with a mix of criticism and care, yet her love for the children is undeniable. She involves herself in their upbringing, and the narrator, shows herself to be a quiet and submissive woman, whose presence in the household counts but for little. As the story progresses, the narrator reflects on how the grandmother’s personality weighs on her mind as the children grow up. Yet as the grandmother ages and finally dies, the narrator gains a clearer understanding of the woman who felt her entire life the pain of being a mother.

First published in The New Yorker, 17 November 1950. Available in Winter in the Air, Faber, 2022. Can be listened to here, with an introduction by Colm Tóibín

‘A Love Match’ by Sylvia Townsend Warner

Chosen by Stuart Heath

While on leave in London, having survived the horrors of the Battle of the Somme, Justin finds solace in the arms of Celia, a young widow. Justin and Celia, however, are brother and sister. Living in a society that would be shocked by their love for each other, the couple go on to establish an outwardly conventional life together in a Northern English town. Included by Sylvia Townsend Warner in her 1966 collection A Stranger with a Bag (published in the US under the title Swans on an Autumn River), ‘A Love Match’ is a tale that permitted its author to comment indirectly on her own position as a lesbian in a long-term relationship in mid-20th Century England. Her prose here is, as nearly always, sharp & precise, yielding ample evidence of her wit and intelligence. Straightforwardly happy endings are as hard to come by in Warner’s fiction as they are in life, but this story of lovers never parted, and of a secret kept safe, comes closer to having one than most.

First published in A Stranger With a Bag and Other Stories, Chatto & Windus, 1966. Available to read online here, with a short introduction by Edith Pearlman

Stuart Heath is a middle-aged IT Consultant based in South Wales with no literary ambitions.

‘Tebic’ by Sylvia Townsend Warner

‘Humphrey, what is Tebic? What does it do?’
‘Its duty – as Woolworth’s expects of it. Now go on to something else, you’re only halfway down.’

Tebic is a small gift – wrapped in silver paper, encased in blue plastic and embossed with a head of Athene – that Humphrey Warburton gives his wife Lydia in her Christmas stocking. The problem: he can’t remember what it is, and she throws it aside – until one day, it is seized on by a lunch guest who declares herself a “Tebic addict”. What I love about this story is that I still don’t know what to make of it, having it read it over and over again, or refined my ideas of what the mysterious Tebic might be – the best I can do is to say it sits in my mind with a black-and-white framed photograph of the back of a woman’s head that I’ve had for years.

(First published in The New Yorker in 1958, and collected in The Music at Long Verney)