“You’ve had so many men. You might have left me mine,” I said ridiculously. — “Delicate Monster,” by Storm Jameson
Storm Jameson is a brilliant, often political, writer, best-known for her trilogy, The Mirror in Darkness. If Virago had not reissued the trilogy along with Women Without Men, my generation would not have have read her. Unfortunately, the Viragos are out-of-print.
Women against Men, a collection of three novellas, is a good place to start. The title is striking, though it does not apply to the first novella, Delicate Monster, in which two women writers, Fanny and Victoria, are pitted against each other. One writes literary fiction, the other best-selling blockbusters.
There is jealousy from the start. The narrator, Fanny, and her rival, Victoria, grow up in the same small town. Their teacher considers Victoria the better writer, but Fanny ignores her and continues to write. It is not until the girls move to London that they become close friends. They go to parties together and deride the behavior of the eccentric guests, until Victoria’s success with the literati divides the two girls.
Storm Jameson is a brilliant, often political writer, best-known for her trilogy, The Mirror in Darkness. If Virago, the women’s publisher founded in the UK in 1978, had not reissued the trilogy and a collection of novellas, my generation would not have discovered Jameson. Unfortunately, the Viragos are out-of-print now.Jameson’s Women Against Men is a good place to start. The title, however, does not apply to the first novella, “Delicate Monster.” In this fictional treatise on jealousy, two women writers are pitted against each other.
Fanny is a serious literary writer, while beautiful, promiscuous Victoria gains success by writing trashy best-sellers (part bodice-ripper, with a tad of family saga, and scenes borrowed from her friends’ lives). Soon charming Victoria is feted by critics, writers, celebrities and the upper-classes.
Fanny struggles. She writes very slowly. She continues to be an underrated and underread writer of literary fiction. Her books don’t sell: she can’t make a living writing. Eventually she finds a a job at a publishing company. Part of the job is dealing with egotistical writers. She observes, “Novelists are rarely tolerable. I say nothing of their vanity (‘A little vanity does no harm in life’), but novelists are almost alone in expecting to be paid highly for doing what they like.”
And she goes on: “… we have eight million authors, of which five thousand are writers on serious subjects, ten thousand dramatics, fifty are practicing poets, and the remnant (7,984,950) novelists.” (Very funny! Are the numbers still the same proportionately?)
It is easy to see quiet Fanny coping at her job and soothing the writers’ feathers. But her married life is rocky: she is shattered when she finds a love letter from Victoria in her husband’s raincoat pocket. And when Fanny approaches her, Victoria is impatient. “Oh, that!” And then Fanny learns that the two are still having an affair.
Fanny gets over it – the marriage is soon over – but can one be surprised that she is pleased when Victoria’s daughter Camilla visits to ask advice?
Victoria reminds me of the indelicate monster in Max Beerbohm’s satirical novel, Zuleika Dobson. The beautiful Zuleika drives hundreds of men to suicide, including an entire class at Oxford. (Well, perhaps it’s the whole university. I can’t remember!)
Delicate Monster is a haunting, realistic look at friendship, with its moments of joy and terrible sadness.
About the quote at the top: yes, it’s melodramatic, but if your friend steals your boyfriend, you might as well say this as anything else, because nothing will do any good!