I had moved on to adult literature around the time I read My Brother Michael, though I did not buy many English books in this connection. This was because there were plenty in the library at home, and after my father challenged me, saying that I should read Dickens and Thackeray instead of just Enid Blyton and her ilk, I moved swiftly to the Victorians, and then earlier and later English novelists, and also all of Shakespeare.
What I did buy, and still have on my shelves, are classics from Europe, French and Russian and a few German books too. And then when at Kurunagala I read my aunt Lakshmi’s collection of modern classics, including Gide and Moravia.
But these, as I have noted in talking about what might be termed modern classics, English and otherwise, are relatively serious, and this was not what I wanted in this recent period of convalescence. But I knew that My Brother Michael would qualify as easy reading, as had been the case with the thrillers I read, while at Nuwara Eliya and then in Canada, when I had periods of total relaxation in holiday homes, with Shan in Nuwara Eliya and at a lakeside cottage of friends of hers in Canada though sadly she could not join us.
Another book I thought would be easy reading, though I had not read it previously, was The Go Between by L P Hartley. While at Oxford I had seen the glamorous film of the book, made with Julie Christie and Alan Bates in 1971, and I knew the basics of the plot. The novel was about a schoolboy used by the sister of a friend he is staying with to carry messages to a farmer with whom she is having an affair.
That the story ended tragically I remembered, though I could not quite remember who it was that died. And then in reading the book I found that the meat of the book lay in its presentation of class divides, with the awkwardness of the boy who does not quite fit in a country house contributing to his willingness to be made use of.
But the plot was certainly gripping, if not entirely convincing, for as the boy wondered, how had the couple communicated before he arrived? But the manner in which he gets enmeshed, his anxiety to get away when he realizes the situation is serious (which is tempered by a desire to stay till his birthday which is to be celebrated in grand fashion), the slowly increasing awareness of his hostess that all is not as it should be with her daughter, are forcefully presented in the novel.
The denouement is dramatic, but what struck me most, which I could not recall at all from the film, was the aftermath, the boy’s discovery when he has grown old that both his friend and his older brother had died in the war. But the sister was still alive, having as her mother had wanted married a Viscount, and borne him an heir not long after they were married. The grandson, who is wary of his grandmother, resembles the poor farmer who had killed himself when he and his paramour were entwined on the ground by the boy and his hostess.