Not everything worth reading is hot off the press. In this section, we recommend "something old" that is still well worth reading. "Something Old" can mean anything from a venerable and antique classic to a good book first published year or two ago.
“CLOSE QUARTERS” by William Golding (published in 1989)
As the second of part of what was to become a trilogy, Close Quarters has a very different style from Rites of Passage. It is still told in the first-person by Edmond Talbot, but it has almost thrown away any idea of his writing a journal for his aristocratic grandfather. Only at the very end of Close Quarters is the journal mentioned, where there is some talk about having his journal sealed up in a trunk should the ship sink. Given that Golding had taken up a new style, we no longer have all the flourishes of Latin and Greek that pretentious Talbot had used in Rites of Passage. As a result, Close Quarters is far more easily read. Of course there are many terms used that would be alien to most modern readers, but they tend to be terms related to the craft of seamanship and they are explained; and there is some of the badinage that the upper-classes use when they are chattering at dinner, and some of the slang of the sailors. Rites of Passage left Captain Anderson’s ship in the middle of the ocean, less than a third of the way to Australia. Close Quarters takes us as far as South America and heading for Cape Horn, so we are still far from the Pacific Ocean. Golding [or rather Talbot] hastily wraps up Close Quarters with a “Postscriptum” which more-or-less resolves some of the problems that have arisen, and apologises for not concluding the whole tale. He pompously tells us that he might probably continue his story later.
Anderson’s ship is a very old ship, originally a warship, even though its task now is to take emigrants to Australia. The ship still had gun-ports, cannons, powder and shot. But even by early 19th century standards, the ship has many flaws, which become more obvious as the novel continues. Of course (minus the parson Colley) the same characters are the same people as they were in Rites of Passage, although Edmond Talbot is still sometimes haunted by the death of Colley, and later chooses to move into the cabin where Colley used to sleep. There is also the mysterious disappearance of Talbot’s servant Wheeler who seems to have fallen into the sea… until he is later picked up by another ship, after being three days alone in the ocean, and resumes working as Talbot’s servant. There is the ongoing problem of Lieutenant Deverel, who is at odds with Captain Anderson. Deverel not only drinks too much but he was not on watch when he should have been, and did not prevent the crippling of the ship when one of the masts fell apart in a storm. Anderson wanted to clap Deverel in irons.
But the most important thing is the appearance of another ship in the ocean. Mist surrounds them. Could the ship coming towards them be a French warship? There is panic. Some of the passengers become hysterical. The gun-ports are opened. The cannons are readied…. And then it turns out that the ship, the Alcyone, is an English ship bound for India and with the news that Napoleon is defeated, the war with France is over, and the two ships join together to celebrate. But the most important fact – at least where Golding’s story is going – is that in the moments of panic, Edmond Talbot has accidentally smashed his head against a beam in the cramped quarters of the gun-port. He becomes disoriented, weeps sometimes and has many illusions buzzing though his head. When wealthy aristocratic people come aboard from the Alcyone, and there is a celebration and a party on the deck and when the upper-class people have a feast, Talbot finds himself falling in love with a young woman called Marian, also called Miss Chumley, ward of Lord and Lady Somerset. In his mixed illusions, he sees her as his ideal, the perfect young woman, something out of a dream [even though she is a giddy teenager]. He thinks he could marry her. He even says he will jump ship and go the India with her even though she is a giddy teenager. But he is brutally pushed away by her wards. Even when she has gone with the Alcyone, he dreams of her and (here come the flourishes of Latin and Greek) he tries to write classical poems about her… but he is no good at it.
This whole section of the novel is really the heart of the story. Remember that in Rites of Passage, Talbot was the man had no qualms of violently (virtually) raping an eager prostitute. Now his mind is going to the other extreme, idealising a young woman whom he does not really understand or know. This is where Golding is at his best, showing how the mind can be moved and contorted by physical trauma. Golding moves intelligently almost into the field of psychology. Ultimately, Talbot comes to his senses when a new officer onboard, Lieutenant Benet, who was swapped from the Alcyone to Anderson’s ship, is able to tell Talbot that young Miss Chumley was used for his pleasure by Lord Somerset. And to make matters worse, it was the raffish Lieutenant Deverel who was the one swapped over to the Alcyone, likely to chase any woman available. Talbot’s delusions fade away. He is cured... or at least he seems to be. Nothing romantic here…. But when Talbot is sick, he is still fed opium, a common 19th century cure and this can often make his brain buzz.
If all this is the most important sequence in the novel, there are other intriguing moments, especially chapters in which some of the officers, and some of the passengers, want to persuade Captain Anderson to change course and call into a harbour for repairs, because the ship often seems unstable and in peril of falling apart. Much of this fear is partly caused by the possible damage that could be done by the drag-rope, which the sailors haul to clear off seaweed, which seems to be pulling thing off the keel. More vivid though, are the moments [especially in Chapter 13] when the ship rolls and sea-sickness is injuring nearly everybody aboard. Thus we fully understand that 19th century voyaging could be very miserable – and frightening. And yes, I forgot to tell you that Wheeler commits suicide with a bunderbuss.
Footnote 1: Golding often deals with social classes. It is rampant in the chatter of the upper class among the captains and the aristocrats as they eat their feast in a special dining room. At the very beginning of Close Quarters, there is a discussion Talbot has with Lieutenant Summers, who had risen from the ranks. They both agree, naturally, that only the best people – meaning the upper class - should be the only ones to rule. One says that he will rise by seeking out a rotten borough. Talbot sees this as reasonable. This was some years before the rotten boroughs were abolished; and of course it was very many years later that the suffrage was expanded. Talbot, at the end of the novel, tells Summers that he is a good friend… even if he had risen from the ranks.
Footnote 2: Once again, Golding gives the title of his novel is a sort of pun as he did with Rites of Passage. Passengers naturally have “close quarters” literally, because they are squeezed into very small cabins. But in much of the novel, there are two ships joined together at “close quarters”. And there are also the “close quarters” when Talbot tries to woo Miss Chumley.
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