If we set H. E. Bates’s best tales against the best of Chekhov’s, I do not believe it would be possible, with any conviction, to argue that the Russian was the finer artist.
H. E. BatesHerbert Ernest Bates (1905-1974) was born in Rushden, Northamptonshire. He married Madge Cox, his neighborhood sweetheart, and moved with her to Kent. He was very prolific during his lifetime, author of more than a hundred novels and short story collections. He was appointed Commander of the Order of the British Empire in 1973.
Readers who have discovered the delights of the British master storyteller H.E. Bates in A Month by the Lake and A Party for the Girls (published by New Directions in 1987 and 1988) will welcome this third collection, Elephant’s Nest in a Rhubarb Tree. Gathered here are twenty stories written between 1938 and 1964 which, like those of Chekhov, to whom Bates has often been compared, are gems of human observation. There is the sheer hilarity of “An Italian Haircut,” the wincing cruelty of “The Captain,” the childhood enchantment of “Love in a Wych Elm,” the estrangments of divorce in “Some Other Spring”––to mention just a few of the colors on H.E. Bates’ palette. And any reader who has met the dotty Aunt Leonora (in “The Chords of Youth” and “A Month by the Lake”) will relish meeting her again in the “The Trespasser,” the concluding story of this volume.
The six long stories of A Party for the Girls present H.E. Bates at his finest. A crack shot at understated tragedy, Bates is perhaps at his best with comedy and character––consider the opening line of the title story: “Miss Tompkins, who was seventy-six, bright pink-looking in a bath-salts sort of way and full of an alert but dithering energy, looked out the drawing-room window for the twentieth time since breakfast and found herself growing increasingly excited.” Though virtually unknown here, as Publishers Weekly put it in their review of Bates’s A Month by the Lake & Other Stories (1987), his nearly perfect stories…should set his readers clamoring for more… He is as adept at the seductive rise and fall of his narrative voice as he is cunning with naturalistic dialogue. Comparisons to Joyce, Chekhov, and Mansfield are inevitable.
If we set H. E. Bates’s best tales against the best of Chekhov’s, Graham Greene declared, I do not believe it would be possible, with any conviction, to argue that the Russian was the finer artist. The sampler of H. E. Bates stories presented here shows the merit of that praise and displays the range and aspects of Bates’s work from his first published story, “The Flame,” to one of his very last, “The Song of the Wren.” In his long and prolific literary career, Bates (1905-1974) produced twenty-five novels, a three-volume autobiography, nine books of essays, several plays and children’s books, as well as his important and perhaps most enduring achievement, twenty-three collections of short stories. A Month by the Lake & Other Stories displays Bates’s extraordinary talent for concisely getting at the heart of the matter. Whether he is dealing with romance in middle age (the title story), or the most painful clarity of a child’s world (The Cowslip Field), or encapsulating the disintegration and tragedy of a man and a house and the era and class they represent (The Flag)––Bates’s compassion for humanity remains constant. As Anthony Burgess remarks in his introduction, Bates achieved such sovereignty of what literary land he inherited that he deserves the homage of our uncomplicated enjoyment… Bates’s affection for ordinary people is one of his shining virtues. But he himself, as I knew, and as this compilation should make clear, was, is, far from ordinary.
If we set H. E. Bates’s best tales against the best of Chekhov’s, I do not believe it would be possible, with any conviction, to argue that the Russian was the finer artist.
He was without an equal in England in the kind of story he had made his own.
He is the Renoir of the typewriter.
His tales have… a real vitality, a kind of sunlit vivacity of phrase and incident, which gives brightness to stories even of relatively sombre themes… He can mingle comedy and emotion with a fine balance. He is always sensitive, often tender, and has a fine detachment in narrative and power of complete evocation in description.
