Elizabeth von Arnim, Expiation (#BookReview #1929Club)

I cannot remember when I last laughed out loud – a lot – when reading a book. The book that broke the drought is Elizabeth von Arnim’s Expiation. Even in her darkest, grimmest novel, Vera (my review), Von Arnim managed to make me splutter several times, albeit ruefully. Expatiation, though, caused no such qualms.

I have loved Elizabeth von Arnim since I read Elizabeth and her German Garden in the early 1990s when Virago started publishing her. I went on to read several more of her books over the next few years, but then had a big gap until this year, when I read Vera. It reminded me how much I enjoy her. So, when I saw she had one published in 1929, I selected it for Karen and Simon’s 1929 Club. I finished it more or less on time, but the last couple of weeks have been so busy that I didn’t get to post it until now.

The edition I found was published by Persephone. They describe publishing it as first for them, because “it’s a novel by a well-known writer that has been entirely overlooked”. While most of Von Arnim’s books are in print with other publishers, Expiation, which they were now publishing ninety years after its first appearance, had been ignored. Why, they ask? Good question. I admit that, not having seen it around, I did fear it might be lesser.

Persephone offers some reasons. Firstly, the title “is not very catchy”. True, it’s not. They also suggest that its adultery theme would have been “faintly shocking” in 1929, and further that, although we now read it as a satire, at the time “the characters and their milieu may have seemed rather tame”. Would the satire have been missed? Anyhow, they quote from the novel’s opening chapter, which describes the novel’s central family and the London suburb they live in:

That important south London suburb appreciated the Botts, so financially sound, so continuously increasing in prosperity. They were its backbone. They subscribed, presided, spoke, opened.

This last sentence, Persephone says, “was what deliciously and instantly convinced us that this was a book for us”. I am so glad they did because from the first few pages I could tell it was a book for me too. It truly is delicious.

So now, the book. As you’ve gathered, the plot centres around adultery, which is made clear in the opening chapter. Milly has just been widowed, and her wealthy husband, Ernest Bott, has only left her £1,000 of his £100,000. The rest he has left to a charity for fallen women, with the cryptic note that “My wife will know why”. She does, of course, but thought she had got away with it. What is remarkable about this book, which chronicles how both Milly and the Botts react to the situation, is that we remain sympathetic to Milly. She’s a sinner, she knows she’s a sinner, but she wants to expiate. How, is the question?

The Botts, meanwhile, don’t know what to do. They do not want scandal to ruin their good name, and, anyhow, the male Botts in general rather like round, plump Milly versus their “bony” wives. Moreover, they are not known for meanness: “The family had always behaved well and generously in regard to money, and it would never do for Titford to suspect them of meanness.” Hmmm, a bit of appearance-versus-reality going on here. So, having decided, Jane-Austen-Sense-and-sensibility-style, not to give Milly some of their money, they agree to take her into their homes, in turn, until it all dies down, after which she can go live with Old Mrs Bott, who is perfectly happy to have her. Old Mrs Bott is the voice of reason in the novel. Experience has taught her

that in the end it all wouldn’t have mattered a bit what Ernest had meant or what Milly had done, and that they might just as well have been kind and happy together on this particular afternoon, as indeed on all their few afternoons, and together comfortably eaten the nice soup and sandwiches.

However, a spanner is thrown in their works when the shocked and mortified Milly disappears the day after the funeral. To say more about the plot would give too much away – even though the plot is not the main thing about this book.

What Von Arnim does through this plot is take us on a journey through humanity. Milly’s attempts at expiation often fall flat, either because she doesn’t manage to do what she plans or because others don’t behave towards her as she expects, even wants, them to do. For example, on one occasion, she has “no doubt at all that here at last she was in the very arms of expiation” and yet it comes “to her so disconcertingly, with a smile on its face”. Can this really be expiation? Milly’s not sure. One of the book’s ironies – and points – is, in fact, that the greatest sinner, technically, is among the kindest in reality.

The thing I like about Von Arnim is her generosity. It is on display throughout this novel as Milly, seeking expiation (but also to survive) moves between people she knows, from her previously sinning sister and her obliviously self-centred lover to the various Botts who range from the puritanical and pompous to the warm and lively. Most of these characters, like Austen’s, may come from a narrow realm of society but they represent a much wider spectrum of human behaviour. Like Austen, too, Von Arnim’s targets are not just the personal – greed, selfishness, narrow-mindedness, silliness, pride, self-importance, ignorance, and so on – but the societal, particularly gender, marriage and money. “Too much worldly prosperity”, she writes for example, “deadens people’s souls”.

So, in Expiation, Von Arnim skewers human nature and her society much like Jane Austen does. Sometimes the situations may be a little dated as they can also be in Austen, but human nature itself doesn’t change much – and this is so knowingly, so inclusively, and so generously, on display. There are some less than stellar people here, of course, but as in Austen, they are treated with respect for their humanness by the author, while also being exposed for exactly who they are. I’m going to – with difficulty – choose just a couple for you, one touching on the theme of sinning and morality, and the other on money.

Here is the eldest Bott, Alec, trying to avoid hosting Milly first, because of his wife’s puritanical approach to life:

He stopped, an undefined idea possessing his mind that Milly might be purer after having passed through the sieve of other visits, and more fit to stay with his wife …

Von Arnim’s language – so fresh and funny. And here is another Bott, Fred, telling his sons they will be helping Milly:

“Do you mean financially?” inquired Percy, his eyes still on his paper.
“Kindness,” said Fred.
“Kindness! Well, that’s cheap, anyhow,” said Dick.
“And easy,” said Percy, turning the pages. “I always liked Aunt Milly.”

Finally, I will leave you with one more bon mot from Old Mrs Bott who reflects, at one point during the novel:

It seemed as if these poor children had no sense whatever of proportion. They wasted their short time in making much of what was little, and little of what was much.

With a wit and a sense of humanity that is a joy to read, Expiation encourages us to think about what is important to living both a good life, and a kind and fair one.

Elizabeth von Arnim
London: Persephone Books, 2019 (orig. pub. 1929)
ISBN: 9781906462536

37 thoughts on “Elizabeth von Arnim, Expiation (#BookReview #1929Club)

  1. I’ve only read Enchanted April of hers and was not in the mood but looking back I think I’d read it again as now in mood for it! I do like her writing style but have not explored her other works. I might just have to do that TAnks for a great post that inspires me to read the books of the past which I generally enjoy.

  2. I have one EvA on Audible – Love – though it might be a while till I get to it. As for your review, not being a god botherer I don’t care whether or not people are ‘sinners’ and so don’t expect them to seek expiation. I would have been barracking for her to challenge the will.

    • Ha ha Bill, that would have been a step too far – and anyhow, I think fidelity in a relationship is not limited to god-botherers? Milly does talk about ”sin” but I never got the sense that religion was really the issue for her, just the sense of doing wrong.

    • I’ve been thinking a bit more about your “sin” comment Bill. “Sin” is I guess an old-fashioned term, common for that time, but I feel the discussion in the novel is more nuanced than the traditional religious-based heaven-hell dichotomy. For example, the idea is raised as to whether how much of a sin it is if it made her a better wife to her dull husband. It’s a good read.

      • My reaction to sin and adultery is that they imply ownership. But you’re right, most people in couples expect fidelity, and feel betrayed when they don’t get it. Nevertheless, it’s not the business of anyone not in the couple.

        But where would literature be without the tension of ‘illicit’ relationships.

        • True … it’s really about the agreement each couple has. In this case Ernest certainly expected fidelity and he made the lack of it everyone’s business when made his will the way he did.

          Literature needs its little dramas, as you say – and this is this book’s!

  3. Hi Sue, I have reserved Vera, but no luck in reserving Expiation – not in libraries. Did you know that Gabrielle Carey published in 2020 – Only happiness here : in search of Elizabeth Von Arnim?

    • Vera is her darkest Meg, but I think you can take it!

      And yes, I knew about Gabrielle Carey’s book – I’ve reviewed it here. Another book about her was published around the same time, Joyce Morgan’s The countess from Kirribilli. I haven’t read that, but I do have yet another biography – a fuller more academic one published around 2015. She’s come back into the zeitgeist in the last few years all of a sudden!

  4. This does sound spectacularly good. I agree with your comments about von Arnim’s ability to skewer human nature and the workings of society with wit and precision. She does this very effectively in The Caravaners, too – a book had that me laughing my head off at various points, so I can relate to your response to this one!

    • Thanks Jacqui, that’s one of the ones I want to read next as I’m pretty sure I haven’t read it. I know I’ve read seven now, and there are a couple of others Including this that ring a bell but I think that it’s just because I had them on my virtual TBR!

  5. Oh, goodness. When I read this, I immediately thought of Elon Musk: “Too much worldly prosperity”, she writes for example, “deadens people’s souls”.

    It’s funny that this is the second review I’ve read tonight in which the blogger let it be known that she found a book very funny and provided quotes as example, and I did not laugh. I say that to say this: I think culture plays a great deal in what we find funny and neither blogger I’m referencing is from the US. I find this so cool and interesting!

    • Oh that’s interesting Melanie … it’s a wry, ironic humour … that could be more English perhaps. It certainly reminds me of Austen. It’s partly how she says it as well as what she says. The idea of sin being sieved out of Milly thus making her purer tickles my fancy on so many levels.

  6. Hi Sue, I have read Vera, has a very good ending. I, also read Gabriel Carey’s book on von Arnim, which was okay. Joyce Morgan’s biography on von Arnim was excellent.

    • Thanks very much Meg. Carey’s book is a bit of an odd one. I enjoyed it, but it has a very specific purpose which makes it less of a biography and so a little frustrating from that point of view. I’d never heard of Morgan before hers came out so have been wondering about it. However, I already have the other biography that I mentioned on my TBR so that should be the one I read next!

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