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A Male Child
During World War II Ian Canning returns to England from service in India and becomes disillusioned
- GenresFiction
220 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1956
About the author
Paul Scott
121 books146 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
Paul Scott was born in London in 1920. He served in the army from 1940 to 1946, mainly in India and Malaya. He is the author of thirteen distinguished novels including his famous The Raj Quartet. In 1977, Staying On won the Booker Prize. Paul Scott died in 1978.
Paul Scott was born in London in 1920. He served in the army from 1940 to 1946, mainly in India and Malaya. He is the author of thirteen distinguished novels including his famous The Raj Quartet. In 1977, Staying On won the Booker Prize. Paul Scott died in 1978.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
April 27, 2019
a moody and thoughtful novel about the pressures and problems two young men face after World War II. the deliberate pace, rigorous honesty, and atmospheric prose are all laudable, but it is unlikely that most modern readers - outside of Paul Scott completists like myself - will find much of interest in this book.
but you're not like "most modern readers", are you?? you're better than that. embrace your inner special snowflake and read this poor unsung book! or don't. *shrug*
I read for entertainment, for pleasure, rarely for edification. different books bring different pleasures to me. specifically, three sorts of pleasures. a book with a strong, tight, sharp narrative, a narrative like a trap, will hold me captive and I'll think of nothing else but the story of the book. a looser book, say one with a wide sweep and/or a lot of fascinating speculation and/or a world that is being carefully built, will often give me the space to inspire my own book-making: I will think of what it would be like to live in that world, who else would live there, how it would feel; I will think of similar worlds and populate that world with my own ideas, inspired by the book I'm reading. the third sort of pleasure - and I'm not sure if "pleasure" is even the correct word - arises with books whose strongest traits are their interiority, in particular around characterization, and their resonance, mainly due to the book's themes and my connection to those themes. these books force engagement with my own life, and the people who are or who have been in it.
A Male Child provides "pleasure" of the third variety. when contemplating sickly, too-thoughtful Ian Canning, his hesitancy and his questioning of life and his lack of affect, I often thought of myself and my own experiences: of the barriers I've created between me and others, of the frequent futility of "trying to do the right thing" and of truly understanding other people, as well as the quiet, sometimes lonely satisfaction that trying to live the life you want to live can bring. when reading about his friend Alan, an equally kind man who is everything Ian is not (and vice versa) - physically robust, a guy's guy, just about the opposite of an intellectual - I thought of my fraternity years and the surprise I'd feel when realizing a guy I had pegged as nothing more than a simple-minded, horny jock, was not just those things but also a genuinely good person; and the resulting realization that one doesn't have to be thoughtful or clever to be decent or kind. a no-brainer now, many years older, but not so much when I was young and thought I understood everything about everyone.
when reading about Alan's mother, the fascinating monster Mrs. Hurst, and Alan's attempt to be a supportive son to her despite all of her malevolence, I thought of my neighbors: the eccentric older lady and her teen son, the image of them 15 years ago when I first met them, and then what they've become today: an alcoholic old woman disabled physically and mentally yet capable of whining, screaming fits of rage, self-pity, and petty meanness; a no longer young man who has let himself remain captive for those 15 years, looking after her carefully, bathing her, measuring her drinks, the most common word I hear from him: "Patience." it's a heartbreaker; at times I close my window to avoid hearing their voices. and lastly, when letting the theme of A Male Child resonate with me, when considering that theme carefully, I saw myself in Ian again: a character who sees the stories surrounding him, curious as to how those stories began and how they will finish, sometimes fascinated by the narratives, other times bored, or appalled; a person who sees the world and the people in it at a certain remove: characters in the book of life, a world viewed as a novel is read. one can live in that novel alongside those characters, feeling their emotions, and then shut the book, close the window, separate and ensconced. they are just characters after all. distance can be maintained; the world can be safely enclosed; the reader can remain protected - and apart.
but you're not like "most modern readers", are you?? you're better than that. embrace your inner special snowflake and read this poor unsung book! or don't. *shrug*
I walked towards Sloane Street and thought of a child; something substantial, something definite to look forward to: a male child, a projection of yourself in flesh into a future you would not otherwise know.perhaps not the most admirable of reasons to have a child, eh?
I read for entertainment, for pleasure, rarely for edification. different books bring different pleasures to me. specifically, three sorts of pleasures. a book with a strong, tight, sharp narrative, a narrative like a trap, will hold me captive and I'll think of nothing else but the story of the book. a looser book, say one with a wide sweep and/or a lot of fascinating speculation and/or a world that is being carefully built, will often give me the space to inspire my own book-making: I will think of what it would be like to live in that world, who else would live there, how it would feel; I will think of similar worlds and populate that world with my own ideas, inspired by the book I'm reading. the third sort of pleasure - and I'm not sure if "pleasure" is even the correct word - arises with books whose strongest traits are their interiority, in particular around characterization, and their resonance, mainly due to the book's themes and my connection to those themes. these books force engagement with my own life, and the people who are or who have been in it.
A Male Child provides "pleasure" of the third variety. when contemplating sickly, too-thoughtful Ian Canning, his hesitancy and his questioning of life and his lack of affect, I often thought of myself and my own experiences: of the barriers I've created between me and others, of the frequent futility of "trying to do the right thing" and of truly understanding other people, as well as the quiet, sometimes lonely satisfaction that trying to live the life you want to live can bring. when reading about his friend Alan, an equally kind man who is everything Ian is not (and vice versa) - physically robust, a guy's guy, just about the opposite of an intellectual - I thought of my fraternity years and the surprise I'd feel when realizing a guy I had pegged as nothing more than a simple-minded, horny jock, was not just those things but also a genuinely good person; and the resulting realization that one doesn't have to be thoughtful or clever to be decent or kind. a no-brainer now, many years older, but not so much when I was young and thought I understood everything about everyone.
when reading about Alan's mother, the fascinating monster Mrs. Hurst, and Alan's attempt to be a supportive son to her despite all of her malevolence, I thought of my neighbors: the eccentric older lady and her teen son, the image of them 15 years ago when I first met them, and then what they've become today: an alcoholic old woman disabled physically and mentally yet capable of whining, screaming fits of rage, self-pity, and petty meanness; a no longer young man who has let himself remain captive for those 15 years, looking after her carefully, bathing her, measuring her drinks, the most common word I hear from him: "Patience." it's a heartbreaker; at times I close my window to avoid hearing their voices. and lastly, when letting the theme of A Male Child resonate with me, when considering that theme carefully, I saw myself in Ian again: a character who sees the stories surrounding him, curious as to how those stories began and how they will finish, sometimes fascinated by the narratives, other times bored, or appalled; a person who sees the world and the people in it at a certain remove: characters in the book of life, a world viewed as a novel is read. one can live in that novel alongside those characters, feeling their emotions, and then shut the book, close the window, separate and ensconced. they are just characters after all. distance can be maintained; the world can be safely enclosed; the reader can remain protected - and apart.
March 5, 2021
A Male Child, the third novel written by Paul Scott, is a brilliant tale of a dysfunctional family attempting to redeem and perhaps even reinvent itself. One critic described it as “a distinguished, grave and original novel.” At the same time, Scott accurately captures the atmosphere of post-war London and the multiple varieties of desperation faced by its population: returning soldiers struggling for direction; unstable prices on everything from petrol to paper; and rationing on food and other commodities.
Ian Canning is the first person narrator who becomes an unwitting catalyst in how the story unfolds. While serving with the army in India in the early 1940s, Ian contracts an unidentifiable tropical disease that baffles army doctors as well as those in England, where Ian is sent. Ian also befriends fellow soldier Alan Hurst, who reconnects with Ian in London once war is over, and invites him to stay at Aylford, once the large Hurst family house, but now divided up into smaller units.
Scott introduces many characters quickly to set the stage for the unfolding drama. There is Alan’s alcoholic widowed mother, who takes an unhealthy interest in Ian as he bears a strong resemblance to Alan’s dead brother Edward. George, Louisa, and Isobel, Alan’s father and two paternal aunts, are also dead, but Isobel’s husband, Rex Coles, is Marion’s unofficial bootlegger for her alcohol supply. Stella, who once was Edward’s girlfriend, transfers her affections to brother Alan. Ian himself is being divorced by wife Helena. Into the mix are also thrown David and Peggy, who rent Ian’s flat while he remains at Aylford, and Adela, Rex’s daughter from a previous marriage.
Readers will be surprised when Alan turns out to be more of a protagonist than narrator Ian. Ian navigates relationships with all of these players with sincere intentions to help all of them in different ways. From each, he learns more and more of the convoluted connections that pre-date his arrival. Alan, macho and a man’s man, is ready for his next adventure, only to be thwarted by Stella’s pregnancy with his child. When Ian decides it might be best to leave Aylford, Marion traps him into remaining and “taking charge” of her drinking problem. Adela, also a former lover of Alan, aids and abets the action from the fringes, and Rex plots various get-rich-quick schemes.
Both the history of the players and the current connections are revealed to Ian, layer by detailed layer, in separate gripping and fairly lengthy conversations (which will be a Scott trademark he carries over into the four novels of The Raj Quartet). The vast amounts of dialogue make this a very fast read. By the novel’s end, Ian is left to wonder whether this is simply a cycle of family history repeating itself, especially since Scott structures his novel into three parts: Seed, Gestation, and Parturition.
Though a very early novel in his writing career, Scott regarded this as his masterpiece. This brilliant examination of the complexities of marriages, families, and friendships is highly recommended!
[This reviewer also recommends, and has Goodreads reviews of Scott’s The Raj Quartet, comprising The Jewel in the Crown, The Day of the Scorpion, The Towers of Silence, and A Division of the Spoils.]
Ian Canning is the first person narrator who becomes an unwitting catalyst in how the story unfolds. While serving with the army in India in the early 1940s, Ian contracts an unidentifiable tropical disease that baffles army doctors as well as those in England, where Ian is sent. Ian also befriends fellow soldier Alan Hurst, who reconnects with Ian in London once war is over, and invites him to stay at Aylford, once the large Hurst family house, but now divided up into smaller units.
Scott introduces many characters quickly to set the stage for the unfolding drama. There is Alan’s alcoholic widowed mother, who takes an unhealthy interest in Ian as he bears a strong resemblance to Alan’s dead brother Edward. George, Louisa, and Isobel, Alan’s father and two paternal aunts, are also dead, but Isobel’s husband, Rex Coles, is Marion’s unofficial bootlegger for her alcohol supply. Stella, who once was Edward’s girlfriend, transfers her affections to brother Alan. Ian himself is being divorced by wife Helena. Into the mix are also thrown David and Peggy, who rent Ian’s flat while he remains at Aylford, and Adela, Rex’s daughter from a previous marriage.
Readers will be surprised when Alan turns out to be more of a protagonist than narrator Ian. Ian navigates relationships with all of these players with sincere intentions to help all of them in different ways. From each, he learns more and more of the convoluted connections that pre-date his arrival. Alan, macho and a man’s man, is ready for his next adventure, only to be thwarted by Stella’s pregnancy with his child. When Ian decides it might be best to leave Aylford, Marion traps him into remaining and “taking charge” of her drinking problem. Adela, also a former lover of Alan, aids and abets the action from the fringes, and Rex plots various get-rich-quick schemes.
Both the history of the players and the current connections are revealed to Ian, layer by detailed layer, in separate gripping and fairly lengthy conversations (which will be a Scott trademark he carries over into the four novels of The Raj Quartet). The vast amounts of dialogue make this a very fast read. By the novel’s end, Ian is left to wonder whether this is simply a cycle of family history repeating itself, especially since Scott structures his novel into three parts: Seed, Gestation, and Parturition.
Though a very early novel in his writing career, Scott regarded this as his masterpiece. This brilliant examination of the complexities of marriages, families, and friendships is highly recommended!
[This reviewer also recommends, and has Goodreads reviews of Scott’s The Raj Quartet, comprising The Jewel in the Crown, The Day of the Scorpion, The Towers of Silence, and A Division of the Spoils.]
December 15, 2014
Dated ,obviously,to some extent.Well written by a writer who went on to greater heights.Well constructed and quite gripping as the small scale domestic unfolds but I doubt that many young readers would agree.Would appeal to older readers familiar with post war London.It tells how two wartime friends adjust to life after the war and how they find the will to live in peacetime.
November 18, 2013
Interesting to read about the years directly after the war. Some echos of what was to come in The Jewel of the Crown.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews