Major Fun

The Fab 5 spent some time with Major Pettigrew tonight, and we found him quite charming. Actually, the word "charming" was in just about every review of the book that I read before I actually read the book.

Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, by Helen Simonson, is a sweet novel, humorous and light in spite of the many human failures and frailties that come up in it. Major Pettigrew is a retired British officer who develops a relationship with a widowed shopkeeper of Pakistani descent. Their friendship reveals many of the prejudices of his traditional English village.

While his fellow villagers seem to have no trouble speaking their minds, the Major feels that the most important thing is politeness. He cringes at bad manners and addresses everyone as "my dear boy" or "my dear woman." He delivers some great lines, such as when one young man asks if he knows what it's like to be in love with an unsuitable woman. The dear Major says "My dear boy, is there really any other kind?"

The young men in the book are struggling to find how the women they love will fit into the plans they have made for themselves. Both the Major and the young Muslim man, Abdul Wahid, are committed, for better or for worse, to protecting their families' honor. Mrs. Ali and the Major are both looking for companionship in the midst of their grief and isolation. The general answer to these issues is ultimately "seize the day."

We had some questions. Mrs. Ali, the Pakistani woman in question, was born in Cambridge. At what point do you stop being from the country of your descendants? The Fab 5 is basically a group of Dutch Americans. I personally am of 100% Dutch ancestry (give or take a stray ancestor), as is my husband. My mother is the child of immigrants. Which generation ceases to be Dutch and becomes American? Some immigrant communities seem to hold onto their identity longer than others.

We wondered if the division in this novel is due more to Mrs. Ali's ethnicity or the fact that she is a shopkeeper? Is it Islam vs. Anglican? Obviously each difference plays a part, but it's hard to tell if it is in greater part racism or classism. We think it's hard to imagine being so classist. However, we would probably be in the "shopkeeper" class. None of us has inherited land or homes or titles, so it might be harder for us to understand.

In relationships we've seen, when a couple falls madly in love, the fact that they don't share the same religious views doesn't seem insurmountable--it seems like something they'll be able to work out. But in the long haul, it can become a much bigger issue than originally thought. The vicar in this novel, though not a terribly sympathetic character, echoes this reality in his opinions on such marriages. There are no easy answers here.

Though some of the events are over the top, we enjoyed it. Barbara suggested that the book is a bit like the Mitford series, with a little more fornication. Nancy declared it "Britford."

Since we were all up during a tornado warning in the middle of the night last night, we felt too tired to make many intelligent comments. There were several moments of silent staring into the distance. We were all impressed when Nancy pointed out that there were two spellings of the same word on a page--fiance and fiancee (with the little mark above the first e that I can't seem to make happen on the computer). Even more impressed when Sonya informed us that fiance refers to the male partner in the relationship, and fiancee refers to the female.

But our night got a little more interesting when Barbara's creepy neighbor got into his pickup and started methodically peeling out in the street every few minutes. We tried to watch him out the window without looking like we were watching him out the window. Barbara said he acts like he lives in "the freakin' country," not that there's anything wrong with that, of course. Just think of it as the shopkeeper pot calling the country boy kettle black.