I bet the title The Skin Chairs creates all sorts of weird and vivid images in your mind. They are indeed what you are probably imagining them to be, which is sort of a scary thought, but don't be put off by either the title or the chairs. (Well, maybe the chairs--I was, and so was Frances). Barbara Comyns's The Skin Chairs was a delightfully off-beat sort of read, quite unexpected as I had an entirely different mental image of what to expect from her work. I have a little confession to make. I once tried to read Ivy Compton-Burnett, but didn't get on well with her, though she seems someone I would normally really like. I think it was more me than her and I fully intend to give her another try (sometimes it's just a matter of finding the right book, right?). But I seem to always equate the two authors (and their work does overlap a bit as they were both writing at about the same time). I didn't get on well with one, so wasn't expecting to get on with the other. I have been proven wrong, however, and happily so.
Barbara Comyns seems an interesting woman. She was educated by governesses and went on to attend art school. She worked in an advertising agency, a typewriting bureau, dealt in old cars and antique furniture, bred poodles, converted and let flats and exhibited pictures in The London Group. That's quite a wide and varied work life and perhaps her experiences helped inform her writing, which charming as it is, it's also a little on the eccentric side. There's something a little macabre about her writing, which is hinted at in The Skin Chairs, and seems even more so in her other books (typically, I liked this book so much I've started looking for and buying her others).
The Skin Chairs is narrated by ten-year old Frances whose family has come down in the world upon the death of her father. The novel isn't a coming-of-age story per se, but it does have all the wonder and innocence (or understanding of the world) you would expect when seen through a child's eyes. Frances is one of a brood of children. Her elder siblings are away at school and the younger ones are often sent off into the country to stay with family. Frances herself is sent to live with her Aunt Lawrence and cousins Ruby and Grace, and it's there she first learns of and sees the famous skin chairs. The chairs, five black and one white, belong to a neighbor who was a General in the Boer War. No doubt the chairs were some sort of strange souvenir, and they both fascinate and repel Frances who calls them 'weirdly mysterious'. They do play a role in the story but are not really the focus of it.
Aunt Lawrence (and young Grace, too) take a morbid pleasure in reminding Frances and her mother that they are no longer wealthy and can't expect to have nice things. No pretty clothes for Frances, no coming out party and no prize turkey for the holidays (a slightly old pheasant good enough surely, which is what Aunt Lawrence sends them for their Christmas dinner). The family is even forced to take a much smaller house with no maid, for which they are ill-suited but try to make the best of. Fortunes often reverse and so they do in an unexpected way for Frances and her family.
What really makes this book are the characterizations, which are unique and detailed. Eccentric though they may be, it's easy to imagine the sorts of people found in this small village community. Frances and her cousin take to visiting Vanda, a young mother with little sense of responsibility and no parental savvy, and somehow Frances is befriended by Mrs. Alexander who has an assortment of animals including an irate pet monkey who Mrs. Alexander is determined to tame into submission (to poor results I might add). Frances's sister Polly is burdened with the running of their new household, which she does with an iron fist, and cousin Ruby throws the family into a stir when she attempts (and succeeds) in getting out from under her mother's thumb.
The characters are nicely rounded and this is a story that for all its whimsy is one where you feel like you've been somewhere and done something, if that makes sense. The young voice of Frances feels very authentic and you can't help but like her. Virago published a number of books by Barbara Comyns, though they mostly seem to be out of print. She's best known for The Vet's Daughter, which is available from NYRB Classics, and which I have on my reading pile along with Our Spoons Came from Woolworths. I've also added to it, Sisters by a River (which is supposed to be autobiographical), Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead, and am waiting for a copy of A Touch of Mistletoe to come in the mail sometime after the holidays. I will certainly be revisiting her work in the new year. As a matter of fact there are a number of authors from this period I look forward to reading more of in 2013 including Muriel Spark, Elizabeth Taylor, Rose Macaulay and another attempt at Ivy Compton-Burnett!