What is Social Respectability?

The plot wasn't the thing that got my attention. I read it grim-faced because it promised to unfold into a melodrama of angst, wrong choices and more stereotypes. But the writing was good and so after the first five paragraphs, I soldiered on. Set in South London in the 1970s, Tessa Hadley's 'After the Funeral' was published in digital The New Yorker on March 21, 2022. 

The short story described the life of "pretty and nice" homemaker Marlene and her two young daughters Charlotte and Lulu after pilot Philip — their breadwinner/husband/father's death from a sudden heart attack. It laid out the overarching maternal and matriarchal figure in their lives, the father's mother — stern Nanna/Grandmother. It followed the widow's path, chosen jobs, and their relationships with the husband's family for almost a decade till the elder Charlotte graduated from high school, got a job instead of going on to college. Charlotte felt that she had to marry off her mother, and take care of her, otherwise the mother would be a wreck and helpless. 

Once it became clear that Marlene had no idea about money, Philip’s brothers carried off from his desk all the papers that Marlene superstitiously wouldn’t even touch, in case she messed something up. It turned out that Philip hadn’t had much idea about money, either. The Lyonses convened a family conference; there was grim satisfaction in how Nanna broke the news to them. Philip hadn’t taken out any life insurance, and there was very little pension: they would have to move out of the bungalow, which was the only home the girls could remember, because the rent was too expensive. Philip’s brothers would club together to keep the girls at their fee-paying school, but to cover the rest of their costs Marlene would need to go out to work. 

Half way through, I realized that there was an incredible amount of details provided in the book. Those are more than enough for me to get a short film going in my head. There were colors and texture, and maybe even smells with whisky in their tea. 

The author discussed her approach and narrative style in an interview with the magazine's Deborah Treisman titled 'Tessa Hadley on Building a Story from Details'. There was a particular question and answer about a theme in the story that didn't quite occur to me. Of 'shame'. Was there shame? And whose shame did it belong to? We would assume the shame is with Marlene. But nope. There's no shame there. Marlene has held down jobs and earned a stable income, first as a receptionist at the doctor's office, and as an assistant at the supermarket with all its colorful characters and patrons. 

“I’m afraid for my grandchildren,” Nanna said. “When I see the way you live.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a bit of fun,” Marlene said stubbornly.

Nanna was frozen, offended to the soul. “Is that what you call it? Fun?”

“You don’t need to worry about us,” Charlotte reassured her.

I took it for granted that there's a role reversal of mother and daughter responsibilities since someone had to step up to the plate. Marlene was socially judged by people she knew, once termed as family. She seems to be a free spirit of sorts and totally doesn't mind being judged. In that, she didn't sink into depression at her state of reduced circumstances in life.  

The story also turns around the idea of shame: Marlene has none, doesn’t understand why she should. Charlotte is enveloped in the shame of having a mother and sister who don’t aspire to respectability. Why do you think she’s so sensitized to this and the others aren’t? Does she have more in common with Nanna than she thinks?

I do drop hints that, in some ways, Charlotte resembles her grandmother more than either of them is aware. But I wouldn’t want to overstate this—who knows what particular history produced Nanna’s sourness and passion for control? Charlotte’s story is going to be different—she’s shaped somewhat by the power of her father’s family, yes, and she’s sensitive to their condemnation. But, overwhelmingly, she’s formed and nourished by the warmth and crazy cheerfulness of her mother and her sister, the coziness of the three of them together under the telly blanket. Actually, I’m glad that Charlotte blunders so disastrously at the end of the story. To me, it’s a sign of her resurgent life, her capacity to make mistakes and take risks and break things. Obviously, there’s going to be a lot of pain for her in the process.