Кромерские tutti quanti: “The Fortnight In September” (En)

Many of us may remember a charming novel from the past, “The Fortnight In September” by R.C. Sheriff, about an ordinary family, the Stevenses, who are going on the much anticipated holiday to the seaside on the south cost of England, the West Sussex town named Bognor Regis*. As one of the Paris Review critics, Lucy Scholes, has pointed out,

“The novel’s premise is brilliantly simple. We accompany Mr. Stevens, an office clerk, his sweet but nervous wife Flossie, and their three children—Dick, who works for an auctioneer; Mary, a dressmaker’s assistant; and schoolboy Ernie—as they ready themselves for their summer holiday and take the train from London to the coast. Once there, they enjoy their getaway. Nothing in the story surprises. Nevertheless, it’s an absolute delight from start to finish.”

—And with each day going I can’t but think that the actual storyline, the barely existing plot, the arcs of the characters—everything reminds me of our own desire to reach Cromer, the excitement, the hardly-believe-I-am-here first two hours and even days, the delight of seeing the same things in the same places all over again yet the quietly building sorrow that everything might change whether we like it or not.

In the novel, the Stevens family stay at the same hotel (does it remind you of anyone?..), and the place is getting shabbier with each visit, but they love it even more.

Could there be anything out there that would describe our own experience with such sublime precision? There’s nothing wrong with our hotel: as a matter of fact, we both adore it, and it’s getting even more cosier, but we did spot some tiny—sad yet inevitable—changes in the immediate surroundings: the building site on the West part of the Promenade aside (it’ll be over soon), one of our favourite antique bookshops has closed down—not Bookworms, another one!—and it made us upset. I bought there a rare study of local history by M.R. James, “Suffolk and Norfolk: A Perambulation of the Two Counties with Notices of Their History and Their Ancient Buildings” for a few pounds, and a weird porcelain figurine of a clown, who is not menacing but rather quirky. Love both my discoveries dearly, and the talks with the owner of the shop, a brilliantly sardonic old man and his lovely delicate wife, will live in my memory forever.

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* if my memory serves me correctly, there was an interesting discussion about the book among my FB friends a year or two ago