'A City of Bells' by Elizabeth Goudge

Jocelyn Irvin has just returned from the Boer War with an incurably lamed leg. He heads for the cathedral town or Torminster, where he recovers his love of life in the invigorating company of his cousin, Hugh Anthony, his grandfather, the Canon and Henrietta.

When Jocelyn moved into the little house where Ferranti once had lived, a dark Byronic spirit haunted its rooms. Was Ferranti alive or dead? Until they knew, Jocelyn and Felicity must reach out to him. Until Ferranti no longer needed them, they must yield slowly to the madness of love. So the ghost of Gabriel Ferranti guided their lives in surprising ways, and more than one bewildered heart was restored to the wonder and magic of living.

MY THOUGHTS:

This is one of my favourite Goudge novels so far. It was published in 1936 but set even earlier, around the turn of the 20th century.

Jocelyn Irvin is a disconsolate young Boer War vet who's been wounded in combat and wonders what he now has to offer the world. When he goes to stay with his grandparents in the Cathedral town of Torminster, big surprises unfold. Jocelyn is coerced to rent an abandoned premise on the High Street and start a bookshop. 

Next, he discovers some intriguing snippets of verse and marginalia by the former resident, a down-and-out poet named Gabriel Ferranti, who has disappeared. When Jocelyn decides on a whim to fill in the gaps and finish Ferranti's project, he has no idea how it's destined to take shape. 

Meanwhile, Jocelyn is often followed around by two polar opposite kids; his inquisitive cousin Hugh Anthony who is always demanding to know the 'whys' of everything, and the dreamy, contemplative adoptee, Henrietta, who is a bit of a nature mystic. Their childhood antics comprise the second main thread of the book.

I like Jocelyn's predicament, as he embodies the optimistic theme that life may still hold lots in store for someone who is burned-out. Sometimes destiny takes a bit of arm-twisting from others. Felicity, his future love interest, and Henrietta,  who'd both only just met him, shed bitter tears to think that he might refuse to open the bookshop. The sensible part of me says, 'Gee whiz, girls, a bloke doesn't have to open a bookshop if he doesn't want to,' while my romantic, Goudge-inspired soul urges, 'Come on mate, you'd better just cave in and do it.'  

Being an early 20th century novel, we come up close and personal with some outdated attitudes, especially from 'Grandmother.' Here's her attitude when Jocelyn decides to start the shop after all. 

'Every time she bought a leg of mutton from Mr Atkins the butcher, she would be obliged to remember that her own grandson was a colleague of Mr Atkins, and Mr Atkins would probably remember it too and the mutton would be tough in consequence. And every time she bought a spool of cotton from Mr Bell the draper, she would remember that just behind her across the marketplace, Jocelyn was selling Eric or Little by Little to Canon Elphinstone for Canon Elphinstone's grandson's birthday present... The same wooden counter separating her from Mr Bell, emphasising the gulf between them, would be separating Canon Elphinstone from her own grandson. And Canon Elphinstone, whose blood people said was not nearly so blue as he gave one to understand, would be very patronising about it.' 

Whew, what can you do about snobbery like that? Sorry to any retail workers.

Elizabeth Goudge wields a magic pen, same as her characters Ferranti and Jocelyn. I'm surprised I loved this novel as much as I did, because it's riddled with tedious tropes and stereotypes. Ferranti is the typical depressed and tortured artist who's his own worst enemy, and the discovery of little Henrietta's parentage is predictable and dare I say corny. Honestly, Goudge would have been far less slick and more true to life had she allowed Henrietta's background to remain a mystery. But she's forced similar startling coincidences in some of her other novels (for example, the revelation of Stella's parents in Gentian Hill.)  

Even though Goudge recycles her own plot points in the most heavy-handed way, this book is great! Perhaps she performs a similar sort of 'thought transference' on her readers with which she credits Ferranti and Jocelyn, because its beauty and old world charm make me happy, just as I'm sure Goudge intended. It's a joy to see these inhabitants of Torminster observing every ancient church celebration with the vigilance they deserve. She puts the holiness back into holiday. This lifestyle clearly added colour and variety to each year, and no doubt we're poorer for the lack of sanctified rituals in the 21st century. 

I enjoyed it enough to try to get hold of a copy of its rare, out-of-print sequel, Henrietta's House (Done! Review here). 

🌟🌟🌟🌟½