Dance Night - Dawn Powell

[bookgazing]

Like dogs and their owners places and their place names often seem to resemble each other. New York sounds sharp, flashy and exciting, while Slough sounds undeniably depressing and dull (no offense, but when I visited Slough it did not scream ‘fun’). And so it is with Lamptown, the setting for Dawn Powell’s novel ‘Dance Night’, which is a small, safe, ordinary town that doesn’t stand out in any special way. For the main characters of ‘Dance Night’ Lamptown is both the safe haven where they feel secure and the small frame that keeps their expansive dreams from becoming reality.

Morry Abbott is the son of the local milner, Elsinore and her cruel, travelling salesman husband Charles. On one of his infrequent visits home Charles pushes Morry to support his mother financially, so Morry takes a job at the Works, Lamptown’s factory and principle source of industry. Morry has vague dreams of being a big shot in Lamptown, but has no idea how he might achieve this goal, in fact dreaming about doing something seems to almost satisfy him. However, when he befriends a younger girl Jen St Clare, who has been adopted by the local saloon owner to help his mother with her work, and Jen’s adoration makes Morry restless to the point where he tries to make his dreams a reality. The pressure that Morry feels causes him to misinterpret his own feelings and makes him determined that Jen shall not have a hold on him, which makes for a painful situation for both characters.

Lamptown is a place that provokes conflicting emotions in its inhabitants. Morry and Jen often determine to leave the town, but then become incredibly invested in improving Lamptown and their position in it. Their inability to leave somewhere they believe they dislike and ultimately their indecision about whether they really want to break from somewhere that offers safety is a theme that runs through many other characters lives. Powell writes characters who make it hard to see whether the best course of action is to let go, or to hold on. Some characters are unable to let go, but would undoubtedly be better off if they did, for example Bill Delaney, the saloon owner who is often crippled by the memory of a train crash that happened when he was operating engines. It seems that some characters will never do as well outside of Lamptown, as they have done in the town, such as Charles Hunt who is shown up as a minor player when other men of business begin to arrive in Lamptown. Jen and Morry must grapple with the contradictory fear that leaving Lamptown inspires, even as they come to recognise that Lamptown is not able to give them everything they want.

I suspect that Morry’s mother’s storyline captures Powell’s personal thoughts about letting go and holding on. Elsinore contentedly accepts her bitter husband’s demands and lives for the weekly dance night when she can be near Harry Fischer, the town dancing master. Neither of these distant attachments are healthy for her as Charles is jealous and works to restrict his wife’s innocent enjoyment, even though he sleeps with women on his travels and Fischer fails to notice Elsinore’s interest in him, while she exists in a state of limbo waiting to be near him. After discovering Fischer’s relationship with another woman in town, after hearing her husband explicitly accuse her of adultery when she is blameless, Elsinore acts to dramatically cut her connections with these men. After her life changes Powell seems to make Elsinore’s personality harder and it is questionable whether her life is much better, or if it is just different. I don’t think that matters so much, readers can make their own judgements about whether Elsinore’s business success is more important than her new hard nature (I’m still out on that myself), the important thing for Powell is that her character has made a decision, which means that her life can progress. The decision may turn out to be wrong, but it is better than the perpetual indecision that Morry suffers.

There’s so much right with this book that it’s impossible to fit it all in to one review. Jen, I haven’t even talked about what a wonderful character Jen is! She’s scrappy and purposeful, but also a dreamer who is sometimes afraid. Her fear and the way she embraces the small, imperfect Lamptown, because she’s never had a true home before make her so much more than a courageous orphan girl. I found the sections of the book told from her perspective really made the rest of the world disappear for me.

In fact all the female characters made a significant impact on me, even the proud and disagreeable characters like Nettie and Dode. They’re just more present, more active than the men who are always to be found in the saloon talking. The women have to be forthright because there are hundreds of them competing for status and dates in a town where men are scarce. Their pushy showiness and angry battle for control angers Morry, as he feels incapable of getting on and making the best decision, while the women around him act. His mother’s placid lack of drive in the beginning of the book and Jen’s sister’s lack of opinion is why he adores these two women, but just before the end of the book he seems to realise that he needs something more from a woman. He needs a truly challenging woman who will slap his face, rather than the easy compliance he seems to find in even the most disagreeable Lamptown natives.

There’s quite a bit in the novel about youthful idealism and whether it’s foolish, or terribly important. One of my favourite quotes from the book shows what Morry thinks about this subject:

‘That’s the way people were. Nobody believed in the things you believed but yourself, nobody believed that even you were really sincere about it, people believed whatever was good business for them at the time. Nobody believed in anything but good business. Clover Heights was blown up, the world was blown up, by good business. Everybody knelt to good business. No use counting on anybody having faith in an idea for it’s own sake. ’

That really resonates with me and I think it gives a little flavour of why ‘Dance Night’ is relevant today. Hopefully it also shows the quality of Powell’s writing, which I can only compare to what it might feel like to eat the best chocolate cake, while knowing that the cake is doing your body good. It’s such a smooth read, readers might assume it’s, light and inconsequential prose being used to express Powell’s complex ideas, but on examination it is clear just how hard Powell must have had to work to ensure such a swift passage for her readers. More please.

I’d love to hear from anyone else who’s reviewed this book in the comments (especially about the ending, do you think Morry will stick to his guns and will Jen forgive him?) and please leave a link to your review if you want me to link to it at the bottom of this post.

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