NORMAN LEVINE : FROM A
The Canadian writer Norman Levine is probably best known in this
country for his association with St Ives. In his native country he
has a different reputation, one founded on the stories and other
material he wrote about it. What he wrote didn’t always please his
fellow-countrymen, and one book, in particular,
Canada Made Me, didn’t
endear him to critics and others anxious to present a positive view
of
It was his time spent in
If that was true of what he wrote about his experiences in
It’s important to note that Norman Levine was mostly a writer of
short-stories. He did have a novel,
The Angled Road,
published in 1951 and dealing with his time as a member of the
Canadian Air Force based in
It is the short-story form in which he excelled. His bibliography
does refer to a second novel,
From a Seaside Town, but it might be debatable as to whether or
not it is a novel, as opposed to a number of inter-linking
short-stories. I’ll
have a closer look at it later. The fact that he was mostly
producing short stories, a form which has had its ups and downs in
terms of attracting attention and readers, and which is not noted
for bringing in high fees, points to something that frequently crops
up in Levine’s writing. He was usually hard-up.
There is a story, “I’ll Bring You Back Something Nice”, in which the
narrator, a supposedly established Canadian writer, meets up with a
group of fellow-Canadians he’d been at
Some might doubt that this story is totally autobiographical. Surely
a writer wouldn’t want his misadventures like this to be widely
known? Perhaps he simply fictionalised a situation in which he’d
perceived a certain potential? Perhaps? But knowing Levine’s
tendency to write directly out of his own experiences, I’m inclined
to think he may not have fictionalised very much. In another story,
“We All Begin in a Little Magazine”, the narrator brings his family
to
The location of the house is given as South London, but it’s
actually in
The impulse to make stories out of what he’d observed could
sometimes cause difficulties for Levine. In 1961 he published a
collection of stories with the title,
One Way Ticket. The lead
story (it’s actually a novella of around fifty pages) was called
“The Playground”, and was
quite obviously set in St Ives: “The water in the bay was a thick,
deep blue. The sun brilliant. It showed up the fields on top of the
cliffs of the far shore; the lower towans with the bald patches on
the coarse grass; the long line at the bottom of dazzling sand. And
the white lighthouse in the bay, a milk bottle with a camera stuck
in its throat. Two French crabbers, anchored beside each other in
the deep water, faced the wind”.
The story continues with the narrator’s vivid descriptions of the
town, and also his observations on its limitations. Fishing is
declining and increasing numbers of holidaymakers clog up the narrow
streets and crowd the pubs. He wants to meet more of the people who
actually live there, and gets to know some of what might be called
the “artistic community” and goes to “the round of parties in
A local man, a garage owner called Starkie, has become involved with
the artists and their hangers-on, but beset by debts and other
problems he commits suicide. The anger among the locals is
noticeable, and one of the genuine artists, a man who was actually
born in
I’ve given a brief outline of the story, and it’s much more subtle
in its portrayal of place and people than I’ve implied, in order to
highlight that Levine’s account, closely based on actual events,
angered some people when it appeared in print. He didn’t actually
name St Ives, and people were obviously given fictional names and
their characters loosely described, but it was clear to anyone with
even a casual awareness of what happened just who was involved. As
far as I know, Levine’s story didn’t lead to legal action in terms
of allegations of libel, and any problems he encountered were
related to personal reactions from individuals. They resented the
way in which he’d painted a picture of one aspect of a close,
small-town society that could cast a bad light on other parts of it
which hadn’t been caught up in the events concerned.
It needs to be emphasised that people are central to many of
Levine’s stories, and what they tell him provides the material for
what he writes. In “A Writer’s Story”, the narrator meets an old
lady who asks him what he’s currently writing. He tells her that he
isn’t writing anything, and she says, “You mean you don’t know any
stories? I know lots”. She tells them to him, and they’re not
made-up stories, but people and events from her own life. She
introduces him to a friend, a man who says, “I’ve met lots of
writers here”, and proceeds to recall visiting D.H. Lawrence and his
wife when they lived at Zennor, and meeting Frank Harris. He also
recalls seeing Stanley Spencer and watching Augustus John drink “a
half bottle of whisky”. The way Levine handles these anecdotes,
bringing out the character of the person recounting them, and the
surroundings where they’re told, differentiates him from a
journalist looking for local colour, or an academic researching the
past. He makes a story out of people telling stories.
In “From a Family Album” the narrator (I use that term, but it’s
obviously Levine) visits his late wife’s ailing mother, and then
tells her story. As a girl she’d shown some talent for art,
something her parents didn’t encourage, and had sent samples of her
work to
Because Levine was such a skilled storyteller it’s possible to
simply string together his accounts of human frailties and unusual
encounters in an entertaining way. In “I like Chekhov”, a small
group of teachers from a local school meet in a pub where they all
admire the landlord’s wife, “one of the attractive women in the
town”. It’s obvious that they, with the exception of
A story called “Gwen John” isn’t really about her, though it does
end with a brief account of her life and death: “With the Germans
invading, Gwen John left
I said earlier that Levine’s name is usually related to St Ives, and
he did live there for quite a few years, and continued to visit the
town when he moved away. But I hope I’ve indicated that the
subject-matter of his stories stretched far beyond the art and the
artists of
It is the “novel”, From a
The local, the everyday life, is an integral part of
From a Seaside Town, but
there are breaks in the routine. Charles Crater, an artist from
Other visitors turn up. A Canadian academic looks at something in
the window of an Arts and Crafts shop: “a glass container filled
with yellow coloured water and some wax. A light was at the bottom.
And as the wax was heated it rose slowly in the liquid changing into
different shapes. When the wax rose further it cooled and fell back
forming other shapes. Then it rose again. He was fascinated by this.
Watched it for several minutes “Somebody could have got a Ph.D with
this”, he said. It was his highest tribute”. Those five words neatly
sum up the kind of man he is.
Relatives from
I can’t fault the quality of the writing, which seems to me to
exemplify Levine’s assertion that he’s noted for “the cleanness of
his prose”. He thinks
it may be because he had to learn English as a foreign language. “I
have a small vocabulary. No long words”.
It’s worth adding that he also once said, “The leaner the
language, the more suggestive”.
I raised the question earlier about
From a Seaside Town and
its status as a novel, or whether it can be more accurately
described as a series of interlocking short stories. In a way, it
doesn’t matter as long as the whole reads coherently. And it does.
But, as a matter of interest, it’s worth pointing to how Levine
incorporated what had previously been published as stories into the
framework of the novel. The incident described in “I’ll Bring You
Back Something Nice”, where the impoverished writer scrounges money
from some fellow-Canadians he meets in London, crops up under the
title “A Trip to London” as a chapter in the novel. And the story,
“Why Do You Live So Far Away?”, is also used as a chapter in
From a
I’ve attempted to give a wider view of Norman Levine as a writer
than might be available if he’s only seen as someone writing about
St Ives. His work on that subject, and the town is in many ways at
the centre of his writing, is evocative in that anyone familiar with
the place will recognise his short, accurate sketches of its streets
and buildings. But the writing stretches out to take in many other
things. The subject-matter is not narrow. And when it’s dealt with
in the kind of precise and perceptive prose that Norman Levine
specialised in, the overall effect is impressive.
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
From a
“I’ll Bring You Back Something Nice” in
By a Frozen River. Key
Porter Books,
“We All Begin in Little Magazines” in
By a Frozen River. Key
Porter Books,
“The Playground” in Why Do
You Live So Far Away? Deneau, Ottaway, 1984. Also published as
“A View on the Sea” in The
Ability to Forget. Key Porter Books,
“A Writer’s Story” in By a
“From a Family Album” in By a
Frozen River. Key Porter Books,
“I Like Chekhov” in By a Frozen River. Key Porter Books,
“Gwen John” in By a Frozen
River. Key Porter Books,
“Soap Opera” in By a Frozen
River. Key Porter Books,
“Why Do You Live So Far Away?” in
By a Frozen River. Key
Porter Books,
“Gwen John” and “Soap Opera” were also published in
Something Happened Here.
Viking, London, 1991,
“I Like Chekhov”, “I’ll Bring You Back Something Nice”, “We All
Begin in Little Magazines”, “A Writer’s Story”, “Why Do You Live So
Far Away?”, were in Champagne
Barn. Penguin, Harmandsworth, 1984.
Everyone Was Working: Artists and Writers in Postwar St Ives
by Alison Oldham.
St Ives: The Art and the Artists
by Chris Stephens. Pavilion Books,
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