Mary Hocking (1921–2014)
Author of Good Daughters
About the Author
Series
Works by Mary Hocking
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Canonical name
- Hocking, Mary
- Birthdate
- 1921-04-08
- Date of death
- 2014-02-17
- Gender
- female
- Nationality
- UK
- Birthplace
- Acton, London, England, UK
- Places of residence
- Lewes, Sussex, England, UK
- Education
- Haberdashers' Aske's Girls' School, Acton, England, UK
- Occupations
- novelist
local government official - Organizations
- Women's Royal Naval Service (WWII)
- Short biography
- Mary Hocking was born in Acton, west London, England, and educated at Haberdashers' Aske's School for Girls. During World War II, she served in the Women's Royal Naval Service (WRENS). After the war, she became a local government officer in the Middlesex Education Department and worked there for many years until the success of her first novel, The Winter City (1961), enabled her to become a full-time writer. Most of her novels are set in contemporary England, although He Who Plays the King (1980) was a historical novel set in the last years of the Wars of the Roses. The popular Fairley family trilogy -- Good Daughters (1984), Indifferent Heroes (1985) and Welcome, Stranger (1988) -- spanned several decades of the 20th century.
Members
Discussions
Mary Hocking in Virago Modern Classics (April 2016)
Reviews
A gently drawn character study of a group of middle aged people in an English village. The church is a central theme, with trips to Walsingham and Easter Liturgy, and the mild plot is the married vicar's emotional affair with a lonely woman in the congregation.
I found this in a book sale, and was drawn to it, and really enjoyed it. It has a wry eye for people, and also a kindness and a wisdom. It is also full of a love of literature, theatre and the church of England. It is hard not to read Hester as an author-insert, the solitary author, resenting those who impinge on her peace and quiet. The descriptions of suddenly falling in unexpected love, of the joy that seems to infuse everything and how you rise up above life's troubles are very well drawn. As is the commitment to a marriage that is far from perfect, but valuable and important.
I found the ending a little too tidy. Although marriage is prized, the mad love between the adulterers is well drawn as a beautiful thing - 'And what if it wasn't a judgement? What if their love was a gift, the last and most precious life would offer her?' 'We have walked and talked and held hands. And kissed too. Kissed and embraced. Nothing more. So little. Why should we be held to account for so little? To live with nothing - it's not possible; it couldn't be borne.' So how does the author resolve this? The other woman nobly and beautifully dies of a brain tumour, smiling at the vicar as she passes away, and the vicar's wife learns and grows as a person who works harder at her marriage.
I loved the way it showed how people view other people's choices through the lens of their own choices.
And I enjoyed all the cast of characters, the gentle snark about pilgrimages and plays, liturgy and dealing with blocked drains and life's other crises.
'Three days they had snatched in County Galway. And each of those days they had looked across the bay to the low green hills of Clare which seemed to belong to an Irish fairy story, a place that beckoned but remained out of reach, for the only bus which went to Clare arrived, for some peculiarly Irish reason, ten minutes after the departure of the only bus which would bring them back. Each day their longing for the hills of Clare had increased. Yet we could have gone, she thought. It was only that we couldn't get back.'… (more)
I found this in a book sale, and was drawn to it, and really enjoyed it. It has a wry eye for people, and also a kindness and a wisdom. It is also full of a love of literature, theatre and the church of England. It is hard not to read Hester as an author-insert, the solitary author, resenting those who impinge on her peace and quiet. The descriptions of suddenly falling in unexpected love, of the joy that seems to infuse everything and how you rise up above life's troubles are very well drawn. As is the commitment to a marriage that is far from perfect, but valuable and important.
I found the ending a little too tidy. Although marriage is prized, the mad love between the adulterers is well drawn as a beautiful thing - 'And what if it wasn't a judgement? What if their love was a gift, the last and most precious life would offer her?' 'We have walked and talked and held hands. And kissed too. Kissed and embraced. Nothing more. So little. Why should we be held to account for so little? To live with nothing - it's not possible; it couldn't be borne.' So how does the author resolve this? The other woman nobly and beautifully dies of a brain tumour, smiling at the vicar as she passes away, and the vicar's wife learns and grows as a person who works harder at her marriage.
I loved the way it showed how people view other people's choices through the lens of their own choices.
And I enjoyed all the cast of characters, the gentle snark about pilgrimages and plays, liturgy and dealing with blocked drains and life's other crises.
'Three days they had snatched in County Galway. And each of those days they had looked across the bay to the low green hills of Clare which seemed to belong to an Irish fairy story, a place that beckoned but remained out of reach, for the only bus which went to Clare arrived, for some peculiarly Irish reason, ten minutes after the departure of the only bus which would bring them back. Each day their longing for the hills of Clare had increased. Yet we could have gone, she thought. It was only that we couldn't get back.'… (more)
The Bright Day Mary Hocking’s 1975 novel does have a very seventies feel to it. The sense of time and place is always strong in a Mary Hocking novel, and I so enjoy a seaside setting!
“…the bright day is done
And we are for the dark”
The place is Scotney – the fictional seaside town in the South East of England, a typical seaside town ripe for redevelopment that butts up against marshes and the Sussex Downs.
“The river twisted through a flat valley with the Downs rising on either side. The valley was treeless and rather drab with pylons striding across it. There were one or two herds of cattle. The only sign of human occupation was an old cottage standing beside what had once been a railway halt. It was a melancholy place, a half-way house between dream and nightmare; it had an attraction for Hannah which she could not define, except to say ‘it speaks to my subconscious.’ Whenever she came to Picton’s Quay, she made a point of visiting the cottage; it was more than a habit, it was a ritual and if she didn’t perform it she felt uneasy.”
A local election has returned Neil Moray as an independent member of Parliament for Scotney. On the night of the election, William Lomax; editor of the town’s newspaper receives a visit from the estranged wife of Moray’s main opponent. She has a tale to tell about Moray’s campaign manager Rodney Cope – which is suggestive of underhand dealings. Mrs Ormerod is known to drink rather heavily, suspected of being rather irrational – Lomax treats her story with little interest initially. However, Lomax’s journalistic interest has been spiked. He starts to wonder.
A great deal has been made of Neil Moray’s personal integrity – his determination to clean up Scotney – and Lomax can’t help but sense there is a story there somewhere. The West Front re-development is a big talking point in Scotney and naturally formed a big part of both Ormerod and Moray’s campaigns. Two very different businessmen have plans for the development, neither of them exactly squeaky clean. One of these men, Mario Vicente is a larger than life Italian, owner of several local restaurants, but who wants to retain the character of the development of the town. The other man, Heffernan sits at the helm of a big company, his plans for the town will change it out of all proportion. So, while Neil worries he may have shown too much bias toward Heffernan over Mario – Lomax wonders whether Rodney Cope could have been just a little too self-serving in his dealings before the election.
Hannah is Neil Moray’s secretary – he takes her for granted – and the scales have started to fall from Hannah’s eyes already. Hannah takes walks past an old abandoned cottage on the marshes outside the town, one day spotting two people who really shouldn’t be there. She spends time ruminating on her family’s disapproval of the choices she has made. They don’t think much of Scotney, would prefer Hannah to just get married. Hannah thinks Scotney has life – and has thrown her lot in with Moray to prove it – living in a small flat above a lock up garage near to the seafront. Now with the election over and won, the only thanks she gets from Neil is a half-hearted bunch of flowers – bought at the last minute – it really doesn’t feel like quite enough to Hannah.
Then, Mrs Ormerod is found dead. Rodney Cope – a nasty, self-serving man if ever there was one – continues along his own path, shrugging off any suggestion of scandal or corruption. Seemingly able to charm everyone around him, with his peculiar fascination. Hannah and Neil begin to look at Cope anew – exhausted after an election campaign but with so much still to do – they begin to recognise there is an enemy much closer to home. Neil begins to see there are more challenges ahead for him than perhaps he had first realised. Distracted, uncomfortable about his campaign manager and the promises his campaign might have made about the development, Neil seems ill-equipped to meet them.
“This disorientated feeling had been even worse this morning. The heat didn’t agree with him. It was still very warm now. Everywhere, windows were open and music blared into the streets; people spilled out of pubs and stood drinking and laughing on the pavements. A young couple strolled in front of him, the tips of their fingers touching; this roused more erotic sensations in him than if they had been mauling each other. The girl wore a long brown dress which looked dowdy and old fashioned. Moray didn’t like brown.”
Lomax steps up his investigation into Cope’s affiliations, putting himself into unexpected danger.
As the summer season gets under way and the weather hots up, holiday makers queue for donkey rides and troupe down to the beach. Meanwhile the scene is set for a dramatic standoff, police sharp shooters gather in a street outside a first-floor office, with TV cameras ready to capture every move.
This isn’t the first Hocking novel I have read that has such a dramatic ending – proving once again that she is a really versatile writer. Where Hocking’s strength lies for me has always been in her exploration of her characters’ psychologies – here beautifully capturing both naïve, and self-serving personalities. She is also adept at making the absurd both plausible and realistic. In The Bright Day small seaside town politics, corruption and journalism make for a compelling story.… (more)
“…the bright day is done
And we are for the dark”
The place is Scotney – the fictional seaside town in the South East of England, a typical seaside town ripe for redevelopment that butts up against marshes and the Sussex Downs.
“The river twisted through a flat valley with the Downs rising on either side. The valley was treeless and rather drab with pylons striding across it. There were one or two herds of cattle. The only sign of human occupation was an old cottage standing beside what had once been a railway halt. It was a melancholy place, a half-way house between dream and nightmare; it had an attraction for Hannah which she could not define, except to say ‘it speaks to my subconscious.’ Whenever she came to Picton’s Quay, she made a point of visiting the cottage; it was more than a habit, it was a ritual and if she didn’t perform it she felt uneasy.”
A local election has returned Neil Moray as an independent member of Parliament for Scotney. On the night of the election, William Lomax; editor of the town’s newspaper receives a visit from the estranged wife of Moray’s main opponent. She has a tale to tell about Moray’s campaign manager Rodney Cope – which is suggestive of underhand dealings. Mrs Ormerod is known to drink rather heavily, suspected of being rather irrational – Lomax treats her story with little interest initially. However, Lomax’s journalistic interest has been spiked. He starts to wonder.
A great deal has been made of Neil Moray’s personal integrity – his determination to clean up Scotney – and Lomax can’t help but sense there is a story there somewhere. The West Front re-development is a big talking point in Scotney and naturally formed a big part of both Ormerod and Moray’s campaigns. Two very different businessmen have plans for the development, neither of them exactly squeaky clean. One of these men, Mario Vicente is a larger than life Italian, owner of several local restaurants, but who wants to retain the character of the development of the town. The other man, Heffernan sits at the helm of a big company, his plans for the town will change it out of all proportion. So, while Neil worries he may have shown too much bias toward Heffernan over Mario – Lomax wonders whether Rodney Cope could have been just a little too self-serving in his dealings before the election.
Hannah is Neil Moray’s secretary – he takes her for granted – and the scales have started to fall from Hannah’s eyes already. Hannah takes walks past an old abandoned cottage on the marshes outside the town, one day spotting two people who really shouldn’t be there. She spends time ruminating on her family’s disapproval of the choices she has made. They don’t think much of Scotney, would prefer Hannah to just get married. Hannah thinks Scotney has life – and has thrown her lot in with Moray to prove it – living in a small flat above a lock up garage near to the seafront. Now with the election over and won, the only thanks she gets from Neil is a half-hearted bunch of flowers – bought at the last minute – it really doesn’t feel like quite enough to Hannah.
Then, Mrs Ormerod is found dead. Rodney Cope – a nasty, self-serving man if ever there was one – continues along his own path, shrugging off any suggestion of scandal or corruption. Seemingly able to charm everyone around him, with his peculiar fascination. Hannah and Neil begin to look at Cope anew – exhausted after an election campaign but with so much still to do – they begin to recognise there is an enemy much closer to home. Neil begins to see there are more challenges ahead for him than perhaps he had first realised. Distracted, uncomfortable about his campaign manager and the promises his campaign might have made about the development, Neil seems ill-equipped to meet them.
“This disorientated feeling had been even worse this morning. The heat didn’t agree with him. It was still very warm now. Everywhere, windows were open and music blared into the streets; people spilled out of pubs and stood drinking and laughing on the pavements. A young couple strolled in front of him, the tips of their fingers touching; this roused more erotic sensations in him than if they had been mauling each other. The girl wore a long brown dress which looked dowdy and old fashioned. Moray didn’t like brown.”
Lomax steps up his investigation into Cope’s affiliations, putting himself into unexpected danger.
As the summer season gets under way and the weather hots up, holiday makers queue for donkey rides and troupe down to the beach. Meanwhile the scene is set for a dramatic standoff, police sharp shooters gather in a street outside a first-floor office, with TV cameras ready to capture every move.
This isn’t the first Hocking novel I have read that has such a dramatic ending – proving once again that she is a really versatile writer. Where Hocking’s strength lies for me has always been in her exploration of her characters’ psychologies – here beautifully capturing both naïve, and self-serving personalities. She is also adept at making the absurd both plausible and realistic. In The Bright Day small seaside town politics, corruption and journalism make for a compelling story.… (more)
There are several conflicts at the centre of Mary Hocking’s 1964 novel The Sparrow. Conflicts of family, community, and the personal conflict that sometimes exists between the devotion to a cause and personal obligations. Mary Hocking is very good at weaving together the complexities of lives lived by fairly ordinary people.
“He was not in jail. The thought gave him no satisfaction as he mounted the chancel steps and turned to face the congregation. In fact, he felt rather more martyred here in St. Gabriel’s than he would have done had he been condemned to spend the morning at Cannon Row police station.”
Hocking stands back from her characters with a cool apraising eye – it’s a style not all readers love perhaps, but is one adopted by many exceptional writers like Elizabeth Taylor. I have written quite a lot of posts about Mary Hocking over the last three or four years so I shall resist the urge to go into a lengthy introduction about her – though I am aware that there will some newer readers who do not know who she is. For those wanting to know more there are plenty of old posts that you can explore.
Back to the novel itself.
Ralph Kimberley is a London vicar, an active supporter for the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament he has already been on several high profile demonstrations. Now Ralph – and some of his activist friends long to get arrested, as if only that can properly demonstrate their commitment to the cause. Ralph is a good man, though fails to properly realise the effect his political activism is beginning to have on his family and his parish.
“Now he did look at the clock. Just after six. But there was something the clock did not tell him. This was Saturday: the Saturday. The morning sweetness had not been entirely illusory, after all. In the breathless calm of the house he could prepare himself, undisturbed by other claims and demands, for the day’s burden, this enterprise so far removed from the narrow routine of his life; it was more like a promise of fulfilment. He still believed in fulfilment in spite of all the small frustrations.”
At home Ralph’s wife Myra feels neglected and unloved. The couple have no children of their own though Myra’s recently orphaned niece Sarah (around ten) is living with them, and Ralph’s grown up niece Jill – accompanies him on his demonstrations. Naturally, Sarah is feeling unwanted and rather lost – she is not the most appealing child – (though I really liked her) – she is desperately sad in her loneliness. There’s certainly a feeling that the adults don’t have a clue what might be going on in her head.
“Aunt Myra who usually hated doors to be slammed, looked up from the stove but made no complaint. After breakfast, she said to Sarah: ‘Run along and play with Sukie.’
The day when her parents went off in the car, her mother had said: ‘Run along and play with Nancy, there’s a good girl.’
‘I don’t want to play!’ Sarah said vehemently to Aunt Myra, ‘I want to stay here.’”
I found Sarah a brilliant creation, she is sometimes quite unkind, obsessed with the impending death of her friend Joanna – she takes quite violently against Keith Wilson, who comes to stay with Ralph and Myra.
Ralph has taken Keith under his wing, he is a young man recently released from prison – and Ralph is keen to give Keith the opportunity to put his life back together. Keith is rather prone to bitterness, angry with the way society now sees him. Not everyone in the parish knows about Keith’s conviction, and the verger, Spencer is jealous and suspicious of Keith, while the church warden is irritated at his vicar’s distractions. Ralph recklessly puts Keith in charge of the youth club – which inevitably lead to confrontations and recriminations. With Ralph so often absent – Myra feels inappropriately drawn to Keith – but Keith is more interested in Jill. Though there are elements of their relationship I wasn’t especially comfortable with – and I am sure that is intentional.
Ralph needs to acknowledge that obligations to is family and parish must begin to take precedence and the time comes when Ralph must no longer seek the role of martyr but accept a new start for himself as various conflicts are brought to a head.
The Sparrow is an excellent early Hocking, intelligent and at times dramatic, it kept me wonderful company during a very slow reading week. This might now be one of my favourite Hocking novels.… (more)
“He was not in jail. The thought gave him no satisfaction as he mounted the chancel steps and turned to face the congregation. In fact, he felt rather more martyred here in St. Gabriel’s than he would have done had he been condemned to spend the morning at Cannon Row police station.”
Hocking stands back from her characters with a cool apraising eye – it’s a style not all readers love perhaps, but is one adopted by many exceptional writers like Elizabeth Taylor. I have written quite a lot of posts about Mary Hocking over the last three or four years so I shall resist the urge to go into a lengthy introduction about her – though I am aware that there will some newer readers who do not know who she is. For those wanting to know more there are plenty of old posts that you can explore.
Back to the novel itself.
Ralph Kimberley is a London vicar, an active supporter for the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament he has already been on several high profile demonstrations. Now Ralph – and some of his activist friends long to get arrested, as if only that can properly demonstrate their commitment to the cause. Ralph is a good man, though fails to properly realise the effect his political activism is beginning to have on his family and his parish.
“Now he did look at the clock. Just after six. But there was something the clock did not tell him. This was Saturday: the Saturday. The morning sweetness had not been entirely illusory, after all. In the breathless calm of the house he could prepare himself, undisturbed by other claims and demands, for the day’s burden, this enterprise so far removed from the narrow routine of his life; it was more like a promise of fulfilment. He still believed in fulfilment in spite of all the small frustrations.”
At home Ralph’s wife Myra feels neglected and unloved. The couple have no children of their own though Myra’s recently orphaned niece Sarah (around ten) is living with them, and Ralph’s grown up niece Jill – accompanies him on his demonstrations. Naturally, Sarah is feeling unwanted and rather lost – she is not the most appealing child – (though I really liked her) – she is desperately sad in her loneliness. There’s certainly a feeling that the adults don’t have a clue what might be going on in her head.
“Aunt Myra who usually hated doors to be slammed, looked up from the stove but made no complaint. After breakfast, she said to Sarah: ‘Run along and play with Sukie.’
The day when her parents went off in the car, her mother had said: ‘Run along and play with Nancy, there’s a good girl.’
‘I don’t want to play!’ Sarah said vehemently to Aunt Myra, ‘I want to stay here.’”
I found Sarah a brilliant creation, she is sometimes quite unkind, obsessed with the impending death of her friend Joanna – she takes quite violently against Keith Wilson, who comes to stay with Ralph and Myra.
Ralph has taken Keith under his wing, he is a young man recently released from prison – and Ralph is keen to give Keith the opportunity to put his life back together. Keith is rather prone to bitterness, angry with the way society now sees him. Not everyone in the parish knows about Keith’s conviction, and the verger, Spencer is jealous and suspicious of Keith, while the church warden is irritated at his vicar’s distractions. Ralph recklessly puts Keith in charge of the youth club – which inevitably lead to confrontations and recriminations. With Ralph so often absent – Myra feels inappropriately drawn to Keith – but Keith is more interested in Jill. Though there are elements of their relationship I wasn’t especially comfortable with – and I am sure that is intentional.
Ralph needs to acknowledge that obligations to is family and parish must begin to take precedence and the time comes when Ralph must no longer seek the role of martyr but accept a new start for himself as various conflicts are brought to a head.
The Sparrow is an excellent early Hocking, intelligent and at times dramatic, it kept me wonderful company during a very slow reading week. This might now be one of my favourite Hocking novels.… (more)
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This is the first part of a trilogy. I look forward to the next one. Highly recommended.… (more)