Mary Gladys Meredith Webb (1881–1927)

Mary Webb and Precious Bane came at me utterly by surprise. I had never heard of her or of the book until a friend of mine spoke very often, in the week or so that we were going through her books, of her strong and early love for Mary Webb, and particularly for the protagonist in PB, Prue Sarn. Eventually I decided to take the book and see for myself.

Although published in 1924, the book has an older feel to me. Webb lived in Shropshire and writes of the poor farmers who lived there. She writes in a beautiful dialect, easy to read and yet filled with words that were new to me but whose meaning were clear from the context. I don’t know exactly when this is set but there are no motorcars, no planes, and life is lived according to season and weather and custom.

Prue is born with a harelip. The folk belief is that a hare looked at her mother when she was carrying Prue in her womb, and because of that she has her slight deformity. She is said to be a witch because of it, tho' it is mostly the unkind gossip of a few rather than the grim belief of the many. But even those who love her know that she will never marry because of her harelip. And though she wishes for her own wifely life, she has no great hopes. Not even when she meets the new Weaver.

Prue's father dies early in the story and the farm falls to her brother Gideon. He sets his eye on a grand house in town and the desire to gain that house and go to the Hunt ball with his wife and in every way command the respect of the people around him. So he works himself and his sister, Prue, nearly to death to achieve that aim. But she has agreed to the dream and to the work and although she disapproves or worries at times about her brother, she is fond of him and works as hard as he.

I’ll say no more of the plot, and here I give you very little — just the beginning. I’ll turn back, instead, to the writing.

As she moves through the days of her life Prue gives great attention to the natural world around her, and her pleasure in it is a deep pleasure to this reader. It is as if I have spent weeks in her world, that I know the countryside almost as well as she does, that I have felt the sun and the rain and seen the mist and shared her joy in everything. I have even gotten to look over her shoulder as she writes in her journal in the attic.

The unhurried unfolding of what is in the main a rich and joyful tale, despite whatever tragedy comes along, is a rare and wonderful gift. This hurried world we live in, where the pace of writing is meant to be breakneck much of the time and tense the rest, seldom permits such a gentle character to truly have her voice. But Webb does so with Prue. She is the unforward, uncritical narrator who observes so well and forgives so much, who allows herself her own quiet world and ways, and who never suspects that she is the protagonist of her own tale.… (mais)