Margaret Drabble : The Dark Flood Rises

Margaret Drabble has been described as a writer who has ‘achieved a panoramic vision of contemporary life’. She has written women’s lives from student days in The Summer Birdcage through motherhood in The Millstone and falling out with children in The Witch of Exmoor. She has also written biography and memoir and now in The Dark Flood Rises she turns her vision to old age and the approach of death. Her title is taken from a poem by D H Lawrence The Ship of Death,

Piecemeal the body dies, and the timid soul

has her footing washed away, as the dark flood rises.

Before I continue with some thoughts about this, her last book published in 2016, I should declare myself. Like many others I read her first four books and then moved on to other writers, so there are at least eleven books by her I haven’t read. I have had her 1995 biography of Angus Wilson on my tottering pile, as yet unread, and have had The Pattern in the Carpet, described as a memoir with jigsaw puzzles on my long list for some time. But it was not until I read Jacqui’s ( jacquiwine.wordpress.com )recent review of The Garrick Year that I remembered her and decided to read her last published work which concerned the different end of life approaches of a group of friends and acquaintances.

The protagonist who links all the characters together is Francesca Stubbs, known mostly as Fran. Through her we have glimpses into the lives of friends like Teresa and Jo, ex-husband Claude, children Poppet and Christopher, acquaintances like Bennet and Ivor. They all of course live in a milieu that is familiar to Margaret Drabble. They are mostly retired academics and writers and the life of the mind is the passion that moves them. They have all chosen different styles of old age living; Bennet and Ivor live in the warmth of the Caymans, Jo lives in a purpose designed retirement community that is like an ersatz Cambridge, Claude, Fran’s retired doctor ex-husband is the most accepting and comfortable lying in bed in his warm flat, attended by a highly paid and glamorous young woman with his cat sitting on his lap and his beloved Maria Callas on his music system. He has no angst. Unlike Fran, who in her seventies choses to live in a multi-story social housing block (she says for the views) and spends her life driving rather riskily around the country assessing aged care retirement communities.

The story opens with Fran hurtling along the road and reflecting on the death of an acquaintance Stella Hartleap. At first, I thought. ‘Oh no, present tense’, but soon I was deeply engrossed in the story of Fran’s life and worrying that she was going to have an accident. She is a risky driver who believes the accelerator is safer than the brake and gets herself into some tricky situations. Here is her take on Stella Hartleap’s death,

…Stella had died of smoke inhalation, having set her bedclothes on fire while smoking in bed in her remote farmhouse in the Black Mountains, and just having polished off a tumbler of Famous Grouse. So what? A better exit than dying in a hotel corridor while waiting for another dose of poisonous chemotherapy, which had recently been her friend Birgit’s dismal fate.

There is also a sub theme of the struggle against colonisation. Christopher’s partner Sara was a journalist and film maker who went to Lanzarote to film a young woman Namarone’s hunger strike to draw attention to her country’s problems with Morocco. But Sara dies very suddenly, and Christopher has to spend time in the Caymans sorting out the aftermath of her death and becomes close to Bennet and Ivor, the couple who have settled there.

It sounds complicated, but it all flows seamlessly together.

And wound through this is the story of the childhood friendship between Teresa and Fran. Teresa is now dying of cancer, but vaguely resorting to religion, or a combination of religion and ancient stories.

This book is funny and sad, quite a wonderful discussion of how to live a life and how to leave it.

Being by Margaret Drabble the characters are mainly of solid well-heeled upper middle-class stock. They have spent their lives in academic pursuits, and these are the things that still interest them. Research into ‘Marriage with deceased wife’s sister’ or social housing; art, literature, music, these are the things that give their lives meaning.

I realise this is not a topic that appeals to everybody, but it did make me reflect on what was missing from these people’s lives. I came to the conclusion it was the body. No accounts, as in Stella Gibbons, of glorious walks, no accounts of swimming or dancing or running or climbing. The mind rules. And it made me think about what gives my life meaning and came to the conclusion that I need laughter, singing, chatting, reading, writing, swimming, walking and random delightful conversations with strangers.

Margaret Drabble has elsewhere recommended her five favourite books on old age and death. Worth considering if the subject interests you.

Angus Wilson. Late Call

Simone de Beauvoir. The Coming of Age

Penelope Lively. Ammonites and Leaping Fish

Helen Small. The Long Life

Bernadine Bishop. Unexpected Lessons in Love

Her book is dedicated to Bernadine Bishop, a lifelong friend.