When I started The Four Graces by D.E. Stevenson I was instantly charmed. But Stevenson can be tricky: as delightful and promising as I found the beginning of the book, the second half let it down. It is an excellent reminder of what makes Stevenson such an attractive and, at the same time, frustrating author.
The Grace family – four daughters and their widowed father – is wonderfully close and companionable, not to mention living in the nicest-sounding vicarage I’ve ever come across in fiction. Their afternoon teas and evening chats in front of the fire perfectly sum up my (admittedly semi-Victorian) fantasies of domestic bliss. They banter back and forth, teasing and advising one another, and I could not help but instantly feel attracted to this delightful family. These times together are the highlight of the girls’ days and, for me, they were the highlight of the book as well:
“I look forward to this all day – sprawling and drinking tea and saying whatever happens to come into my head. Heaven will be like this – not golden gates and harps.”
The four Graces are: Liz, the outgoing eldest daughter who is spending the war working on a nearby farm; Sally, the “serene and sensitive” homemaker; Tilly, the “shy and gentle” organist who, like Sally, spends most of her time at home; and Addie, the energetic youngest daughter who is out of sight for most of the novel, engaged in war work in London. Mr Grace is a quiet but intelligent man who remains largely in the background while his daughters run their lives and his. He is “perfectly capable of holding his own” against them (he does so at one point, rebelling against their use of slang with the perfect phrase “your uncouth idiom revolts me”) but does so rarely. For the most part, he is left in the background, which seems a shame.
Set during the Second World War (though published in 1946), the action is mostly limited to the small village of Chevis Green where the Graces live. Though Stevenson temptingly alludes to Chevis Green as “a modern version of Highbury” (which is why Sally counts Emma as one of her favourite books), there are no Highbury-esque supporting characters to entertain us. Instead, Stevenson focuses on the sisters’ romantic entanglements and, for me, this is where the book started going wrong.
Two men enter the Grace family’s social circle over the course of the novel: Captain Roderick Herd, a rather flashy young officer stationed nearby, and the much quieter, older, and awkwardly large archaeologist William Single, who comes to lodge for the summer with the Graces. William is very likeable but Roddy is so poorly fleshed out that he seems rather suspicious – not a good impression when you’re supposed to be happy about his marrying one of the heroines! There are complications and confusions over who is interested in who and by the end I was not satisfied with either of the pairings.
The real problem with The Four Graces is that it is far too short. If Stevenson had written a longer book and had time to develop each of the daughters (or at least the three who play major roles here), giving them distinct personalities and making the reader care for each of them, then I’m sure it would have been an immensely satisfying story. While a fair amount of time is spent developing both Tilly and Sally, Liz is largely ignored; a confusing choice, given what an important role she plays in the romantic pairings. And when attention is belatedly shifted over to Liz, Tilly is abandoned. It is an unfortunate decision, since Tilly was the only character I had any real interest in, and the one who, early on, Stevenson devoted the most energy to describing. The book begins with Tilly and discovering that she was not to get any special storyline herself was a great disappointment to me. But difficulty in recognizing which characters her readers are most interested in seems to be one of D.E. Stevenson’s recurring problems.
Though I was ultimately disappointed by this book, I think I will always love it for the wonderful way it begins. (Though I may never entirely forgive Stevenson for the way it deflates after such a strong opening.) It is still a cosy, unchallenging and pleasant read but I really felt that, to do justice to the first half of the story, Stevenson would have needed a book two or three times as long.
You’ve written a very articulate review here, Claire, pinpointing just where the author has let the reader down in this particular novel. She *is* very uneven, isn’t she? Her endings tend to be much weaker than her extremely promising beginnings! But there is enough good in those good bits to keep one going back for more…
I had to go back and sneak a look at my own review of ‘The Four Graces’ from a year or so ago; I didn’t really have too much to say but that it was a cosy, nostalgic, English village family story and romance. My memory of it was that it was rather “slight”, but an easy, “everything comes out all right in the end” read. I did appreciate the inclusion of the rather awkward William Single as a romantic interest as a contrast to the usual traditionally handsome young men we usually find in tales such as this one.
Not one of Stevenson’s stand-outs, I think (going by those I have read, which is not all of them by a far stretch), but certainly not one of her worst, either. “Cosy, pleasant and unchallenging” describes it very well.
The author does seem to be working under her potential much of the time, though, doesn’t she? Glimpses of a much stronger ability and technique abound.
One of my favourites. Though really, the confusion about who Roddy loves is somewhat contrived. You’re right about Roddy. Very slick. We’re supposed to like him, because, after all, Sal deserves a good man, but I never could. William Single, on the other hand, is among my top men in DES.
I read this about a year or so ago and I’ve all but forgotten it. It didn’t make nearly as much of an impression as Miss Buncle’s Book or Miss Buncle, Married. I even remember The Two Mrs. Abbots more. Oh well, apparently Stevenson wrote lots of other books,
I really enjoyed this blog and I think you’ve pinpointed one of Stevenson’s main flaws. She was so prolific and must have just rattled through stories using a very tried and tested formula. I also think this formula may have become dated within her lifestyle. I’ve just finished reading Anna and her Daughters (1958) and it features and England and a Scotland that’s very between the wars in culture (gentry intact, nice old retainers, jolly villagers etc). That being said, I absolutely adore everything she has written, for me she’s like a dose of Valium…and relax….Also, don’t you think that Amberwell is bloody good? As good as Dorothy Whipple, perhaps.