The Ballad of Peckham Rye (Penguin Modern Classics) [Paperback]

This is an extraordinary story full of humour, both in exchanges between the characters and overall. It is a well-written book full of satire and whimsy.

It is hard to explain why this book is so good without disclosing too much of the story-line, but I will try. Dougal Douglas, a young Scots Arts graduate, is taken on by a small manufacturing company in Peckham. In short order, by a combination of devilry, charm, loquacity and sheer cheek, he manages to hold down two jobs, while also writing a book. He is a mischief-maker and almost everyone he comes into contact with becomes disturbed, even distressed. This leads to a murder, an attempted murder and a jilting at the altar. He makes a speedy exit when he is in danger of being unmasked. One doubts whether this sleepy part of South London will ever be the same again.

I really enjoyed "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie", but this book is in a class apart. Another writer would have told the story in twice the length, but Miss Spark tells it with sparse prose, for twice the effect.

Muriel Spark's work deserves to be revisited. Her style is very economical, presenting credible characters in just a few words. The Peckham Rye of the 1950s comes alive in her humorous account, which is short, but perfectly formed.The Ballad of Peckham Rye (Penguin Modern Classics)

This novel was new when I first picked it up for a train journey. I had been reading a good deal about Muriel Spark in newspaper notices at the time, so this was the chance to find out for myself. It was love at first read, and I was curious whether the wonder of it all might have survived the decades.

Muriel Spark's work is commonly classified as `satire', and I suppose that's fair. However something that her early admirers, including Evelyn Waugh, stressed was that she is not really like anyone else, and I believe that is true also. Obviously, satire has contemporary themes, so it might seem a likely candidate for early obsolescence, but a few moments' thought suggests otherwise. Juvenal Voltaire Swift and Macaulay have not exactly gone out of fashion, and are still read with enjoyment by people who cannot be bothered to look up their contemporary allusions, and 40 or more years after it was launched the satirical magazine Private Eye seems not only to be still going strong but to have passed on its special vocabulary, originally attached to figures now little remembered, to a new generation of fans. Small wonder in that case that Mrs Spark is still wearing well.

For newcomers to the author, this is as good an introduction as any. It is completely characteristic of her, it does not threaten memory overload with a huge cast of characters as The Bachelors possibly does, it stops short of being downright weird like The Hothouse by the East River, but on the other hand it escapes being lightweight like The Abbess of Crewe or even the immortal Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Of the standard Spark features, Catholicism is relegated to a brief mention, of much the usual kind, in the last page or two, but two of the characters, including the principal character (hardly qualifying as any `hero') are Scots. Her ear is as acute as ever, and readers old enough to remember the fashion for addressing people with rhyming animal names (`See you later, alligator.' `In a while, crocodile.' etc) must smile at the way the thing is done here.

The book evokes an era, and one that I remember quite well. This was the impoverished post-war Britain of dull clothes and duller food, before we first swang in the Swinging Sixties. Small manufacturing companies were still common, and it was still common for them to be British-owned and managed before automation, globalisation, the EU, MBA's and consultant-speak set in. Mrs Spark is a talented observer and mimic, and as usual there is little or no sense of affection for, or between, any of her characters. She is funny in a wry way rather than any aisles-rolled-in way, and as usual you never quite know where you are with her. Situations can become serious and even lethal in the proverbial twinkling of an optic, and one of her dramatis personae in this book is murdered and there is another attempt at murder or at least serious assault.

There is no outright irrationality this time, at least if you opt as I do for the theory that the bumps on Dougal's head are only sebaceous cysts. However Spark's characters are mainly just marionettes puppets and caricatures, and I'd say that goes for all of them in this book. I'm not sure whether I have been to Peckham in south London or to the Rye, which is an area of parkland or similar, but it features occasionally these days in news items about gang crime, knife crime and gun crime, often with an ethnic basis. It got headlines just a day or two ago when the ineffable current holder of the post of Home Secretary told us that she was afraid to go out at night for a takeaway meal in Peckham, and she has a constant police escort. That was what prompted me to reread the Ballad of Peckham Rye, because the title is a good one - like the ancient ballads this novel captures the feel of a time and place otherwise receding into inexact memory and helps us match it up against what it is like, or what we are told it is like, now. I never met Muriel Spark in person, I may or may not ever have seen Peckham Rye, but in a sense I shall always know her from there.