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A review by ergative
Strange Journey by Maud Cairnes, Simon Thomas
3.75
NB: More coherent, edited review to come in Nerds of a Feather mid-March.
This was really cute: a 1930s body-swap book in which the two swappers differ wildly in class, each finding in the other something she'd been yearning for. Polly Wilkinson, a middle-class housewife, is dazzled by the glamour and luxury of the life Elizabeth Forrester, a wealthy aristocrat, lives, but what I found most striking was the brief commentary on the freedom that Elizabeth enjoys. Polly does not even have time to write letters to her own college friends, and can't find time to nip downtown and have a private meeting with a Elizabeth. And she hasn't even realized the constraints on her freedoms until she experiences the life without it. (Although I felt this particular point in her character arc was very underdeveloped).
Elizabeth has a strained marriage, and finds herself loving Polly's cosy domesticity and easy affection with her husband, and adores Polly's children, playing with them and telling them stories (which they then demand Polly continue, which Polly finds rather trying, since she doesn't know how the stories began).
Throughout their repeated unintentional swaps, they find themselves in a position to either cause trouble for the other, or perhaps smooth over difficulties that the other doesn't have the ability to handle. Polly finds herself determined to figure out what's wrong with Elizabeth's marriage and fix it, while Elizabeth helps Polly organize some visits and dinner events with Polly's husband's boss, since her superior social status insulates her from being overawed by them, as Polly had been hitherto.
Everything resolves itself in this book exactly as you might expect from a respectable novel of this era. A modern book would definitely dive deeper into a lot of things that are skipped over more delicately in the book. The tensions between Polly and Elizabeth, as each thinks the other is responsible for the swaps, and gets quite idignant and starts trying to make a bit of trouble, is very funny, but it could be taken much further, with corresponding consequences for when they finally meet each other in person. And the core of unhappiness in each that motivates the swap could be given a great deal more thoughtfulness. Elizabeth's unhappiness springs from exactly the tedious source you might expect in a book of this era, and is resolved just as tediously. Polly's is barely mentioned.
And then there are the ethics of sex in other people's bodies, when you yourself are married to someone else when you're in your own body. Elizabeth is careful never to sleep with Polly's husband; and despite Polly's efforts to reconcile Elizabeth's body with Elizabeth's husband Gerald, she nev never actually sleeps with him or even kisses him. She just evokes the potential without letting it go too far (which leaves some extremely mixed signals to poor Gerald). Suppose she did take it further. Would it be it cheating? More concerningly, would it be rape? If so, of whom? Of Gerald, who most certainly did not consent to sleep with Polly, whatever she looks like, or perhaps of Elizabeth, who is not on terms of sexual intimacy with Gerald and would not consent for her body to be used in this way? I'm not sure Maude Cairns ever got beyond the 'is it cheating' question in her head, but I'm pretty sure a modern book woud have at least one husband-wife pair sleep together, and use that to motivate the tension between the women when they meet later.
I'm reminded a bit of some discussions of Star Trek episodes involving the mirror universe, in which prime universe characters are put in positions of sleeping with mirror universe characters under the guise of being their own mirror universe selves. This is pretty unambiguously accepted as rape on the podcasts I listen to, since the prime characters are pretending to be someone they're not, so the mirror characters are not actually consenting to sleep with them. Body swapping feels like a similar situation in some respects (certainly with respect to the rights of the sexual partner), but differs in that the actual body performing the action is the 'correct' body, but the mind inside it is not.
Nevertheless, despite the missed opportunities for deeper consideration, this book is light and fun, and I had a great time reading it. The class-based mistakes are very funny, and it's quite striking how Polly's errors of class (e.g., calling Elizabeth's father 'Dad' instead of . . . Papa? Father?; brutally snubbing a concert pianist by criticizing his music, which has no good tunes in it) are taken as a joke, until they start causing offense; whereas Elizabeth's errors of class (being haughty and high-handed with tiresome relatives) make Polly's life easier. It's as if incorrectly importing aristocratic manners into middle-class life solve problems; while importing middle-class manners into aristocratic life creates them. Perhaps that asymmetry simply reflects the asymmetries inherent in a class-based society; or perhaps it springs from an inherent bias in the writer, who herself was a titled aristocrat. (Again, I'm reminded of Star Trek and the mirror universe--this time the TOS episode, in which Spock immediately detects the mirror universe imposters in the prime universe, because, he says, it is easier for a civilized man to pretend to be a barbarian than vice versa.)
Anyway: good book. Very fun. I'd love to see it redone for a modern audience. And it would make a terrific movie, with wonderful range for the actors who must play Elizabeth and Polly, with two distinct personalities in each body, that must nevertheless match across the actors' performances. Hollywood, take note!
This was really cute: a 1930s body-swap book in which the two swappers differ wildly in class, each finding in the other something she'd been yearning for. Polly Wilkinson, a middle-class housewife, is dazzled by the glamour and luxury of the life Elizabeth Forrester, a wealthy aristocrat, lives, but what I found most striking was the brief commentary on the freedom that Elizabeth enjoys. Polly does not even have time to write letters to her own college friends, and can't find time to nip downtown and have a private meeting with a Elizabeth. And she hasn't even realized the constraints on her freedoms until she experiences the life without it. (Although I felt this particular point in her character arc was very underdeveloped).
Elizabeth has a strained marriage, and finds herself loving Polly's cosy domesticity and easy affection with her husband, and adores Polly's children, playing with them and telling them stories (which they then demand Polly continue, which Polly finds rather trying, since she doesn't know how the stories began).
Throughout their repeated unintentional swaps, they find themselves in a position to either cause trouble for the other, or perhaps smooth over difficulties that the other doesn't have the ability to handle. Polly finds herself determined to figure out what's wrong with Elizabeth's marriage and fix it, while Elizabeth helps Polly organize some visits and dinner events with Polly's husband's boss, since her superior social status insulates her from being overawed by them, as Polly had been hitherto.
Everything resolves itself in this book exactly as you might expect from a respectable novel of this era. A modern book would definitely dive deeper into a lot of things that are skipped over more delicately in the book. The tensions between Polly and Elizabeth, as each thinks the other is responsible for the swaps, and gets quite idignant and starts trying to make a bit of trouble, is very funny, but it could be taken much further, with corresponding consequences for when they finally meet each other in person. And the core of unhappiness in each that motivates the swap could be given a great deal more thoughtfulness. Elizabeth's unhappiness springs from exactly the tedious source you might expect in a book of this era, and is resolved just as tediously. Polly's is barely mentioned.
And then there are the ethics of sex in other people's bodies, when you yourself are married to someone else when you're in your own body. Elizabeth is careful never to sleep with Polly's husband; and despite Polly's efforts to reconcile Elizabeth's body with Elizabeth's husband Gerald, she nev never actually sleeps with him or even kisses him. She just evokes the potential without letting it go too far (which leaves some extremely mixed signals to poor Gerald). Suppose she did take it further. Would it be it cheating? More concerningly, would it be rape? If so, of whom? Of Gerald, who most certainly did not consent to sleep with Polly, whatever she looks like, or perhaps of Elizabeth, who is not on terms of sexual intimacy with Gerald and would not consent for her body to be used in this way? I'm not sure Maude Cairns ever got beyond the 'is it cheating' question in her head, but I'm pretty sure a modern book woud have at least one husband-wife pair sleep together, and use that to motivate the tension between the women when they meet later.
I'm reminded a bit of some discussions of Star Trek episodes involving the mirror universe, in which prime universe characters are put in positions of sleeping with mirror universe characters under the guise of being their own mirror universe selves. This is pretty unambiguously accepted as rape on the podcasts I listen to, since the prime characters are pretending to be someone they're not, so the mirror characters are not actually consenting to sleep with them. Body swapping feels like a similar situation in some respects (certainly with respect to the rights of the sexual partner), but differs in that the actual body performing the action is the 'correct' body, but the mind inside it is not.
Nevertheless, despite the missed opportunities for deeper consideration, this book is light and fun, and I had a great time reading it. The class-based mistakes are very funny, and it's quite striking how Polly's errors of class (e.g., calling Elizabeth's father 'Dad' instead of . . . Papa? Father?; brutally snubbing a concert pianist by criticizing his music, which has no good tunes in it) are taken as a joke, until they start causing offense; whereas Elizabeth's errors of class (being haughty and high-handed with tiresome relatives) make Polly's life easier. It's as if incorrectly importing aristocratic manners into middle-class life solve problems; while importing middle-class manners into aristocratic life creates them. Perhaps that asymmetry simply reflects the asymmetries inherent in a class-based society; or perhaps it springs from an inherent bias in the writer, who herself was a titled aristocrat. (Again, I'm reminded of Star Trek and the mirror universe--this time the TOS episode, in which Spock immediately detects the mirror universe imposters in the prime universe, because, he says, it is easier for a civilized man to pretend to be a barbarian than vice versa.)
Anyway: good book. Very fun. I'd love to see it redone for a modern audience. And it would make a terrific movie, with wonderful range for the actors who must play Elizabeth and Polly, with two distinct personalities in each body, that must nevertheless match across the actors' performances. Hollywood, take note!