Future generations have strange ways. And if you don’t tell Winifred Watson, a forgotten British writer who developed a career of temporary success in just a decade from 1934 to 1945. Then silence. Its climax came with Miss Pettigrew’s Big Day, a delightfully erotic-sentimental comedy read today, a hearty reissue of the Cinderella tale, but which at the time of publication (1938) its publisher found too audacious under British moral law. (It should be noted that Lady Chatterley’s Lover, published in 1928, was not published in Great Britain until 1960). Fortunately, reality did not vindicate it, and the novel, with its liveliness, sharp and malicious dialogue, and frenzied humor, brightened up the uncertain days before the outbreak of World War II like a beautiful glow.
Then came the competition, and no one was ready for escapades about women empowering themselves through sex, alcohol, and nightclubs, no matter how mainstream their intentions were. Hollywood came to buy the rights to the novel, but the ashen spirit of the moment was stronger and the film was not made. It took seventy years for the project to crystallize in an adaptation with Frances McDormand and Amy Adams in 2008, when it was happily rediscovered in 2000; this was a feat Watson achieved two years ago at the age of 94. his death It should not be forgotten that the movie A great day for them was a pale reflection of this radiant story.
Watson marks in a frenzied rhythm from 9:15 am to 3:47 am in episodes that pass without giving the reader a chance to relax – in a one-day time frame, the D-Day protagonist, the titled Miss Pettigrew, a 40-year-old woman – was much more than today. she is considered more mature – the daughter of a governess and a parish priest. His was a gray life devoted to others without any emotional rewards.
A good mistake worthy of the best vaudeville causes Pettigrew to become an employee of Delysia LaFosse, a young singer with nothing on her mind; champagne and cocaine lines. Not a refreshing life, but a window into the glamorous life in the movies (and here a parallel can be drawn with Mia Farrow in The Purple Rose of Cairo) for the governess. As a result, he brings much more happiness in the virtuous and “decent” environments he has lived until now, without finding the slightest trace of understanding and compassion in them. Your reward is to be appreciated and recognized in that immoral world.
It is impossible not to be surprised by this. The readers of this work, which was the daughter of her time, must have interpreted it that way in the 1930s. Some overtly xenophobic comments about the work today – not so different from what we might read in a work by Agatha Christie – may shock us, and it is appreciated that no one has tried to purify them, because they provide valuable information about a way of life. this has little to do with our current fees.
Alba’s edition features original illustrations by Mary Thompson and, along with the text, ensures that you never smile as you read. It’s a pleasure.