Jill - Philip Larkin

...harmless, but then John sees Jill one day, when browsing in an Oxford bookshop, and things take a more troublesome turn.

Jill could be viewed as a coming-of-age story, a fragment of time in the early years of the war just before classes were supposedly shattered and working-class people found it easier to succeed, but it is much more than that: it is about getting to know oneself, who you truly are. John constantly tries to deny his ...
...Self-discovery is deeply enmeshed in Jill and this especially applies to writing - John struggles to encapsulate the personality he has created, but can never quite get the wording right. When he is struck by a flash of genius, someone interrupts him and he forgets it.

He doesn't fit in with either Warner or Whitbread, who is disgusted by 'social climbers' who try to better themselves, but instead of finding people who he does fit ... more

Philip Larkin is best-known for his poetry, although he wrote two novels: A Girl In Winter and Jill, both written in his mid-twenties. He was an interesting character, said to be obsessed with pornography and racist, although Martin Amis (Larkin was a close friend of Kingsley Amis) denies this. I was surprised to discover that Larkin was also a Jazz critic and a great fan of Thomas Hardy's poetry, and was instrumental in the re-evaluation of Hardy's poetry, which tends to be ignored in favour of his novels - despite Hardy seeing himself as a poet foremost, an author second. His being a fellow fan of Hardy, I softened to him slightly…

I studied The Whitsun Weddings (Larkin's most famous collection of poetry) at college and, although I could appreciate their superb structure and sharp insights, he was never going to be my favourite poet. Therefore I was surprised to find myself not only enjoying this novel immensely, but rating it very highly. The novel is set around 1940 and is loosely based on Larkin's own experiences at Oxford; he shares his memories in the 1963 introduction in the Faber and Faber edition I had, first published in paperback in 2005 (ISBN 0-571-22582-9, RRP £7.99).

John Kemp is a working-class lad from a poor-but-supportive family in a Northern town who was persuaded, by his grammar school English master, to apply for a university scholarship a year early to avoid being called up for war duty. Shy and awkward, he spends most of his train journey down to Oxford starving hungry because he's too self-conscious to eat in front of people who are not eating. He discovers that he is to share rooms with Christopher Warner, a boisterous young man who boasts about his second-rate public school and is more interested in socializing than working for his degree.

Of course, Warner doesn't need an Oxford degree to get a decent job - his family has money - and his idea of studying is to copy John's essays. However, John is drawn to Warner and his flashy, sophisticated friends. They are worlds apart from what he has known and he envies their wealth and their confidence. The only other person who bothers to talk to John is the studious Whitbread, a Yorkshire lad on a scholarship who works hard and keeps pushing himself to do more.

In a bid to bond with Warner, John rashly invents a younger sister, Jill: a beautiful, austere girl of fifteen who goes to a posh boarding school that she detests. Warner is interested for a moment, but then becomes apathetic, but John is spellbound by this character he has invented. What started out as a foolish way to impress Warner soon turns into an obsession - John writes letters to her (even sending them to a fictitious address), creates a short story about her and composes a diary faithfully written by 'Jill'. Soon, he falls in love with the girl he's created, although he can never fully capture her character, her essence. Although obviously abnormal, this behaviour is discreet and harmless, but then John sees Jill one day, when browsing in an Oxford bookshop, and things take a more troublesome turn.

Jill could be viewed as a coming-of-age story, a fragment of time in the early years of the war just before classes were supposedly shattered and working-class people found it easier to succeed, but it is much more than that: it is about getting to know oneself, who you truly are. John constantly tries to deny his background, to cast aside his humble roots and loving family in favour of the kind of life that Warner and his friends lead. Self-discovery is deeply enmeshed in Jill and this especially applies to writing - John struggles to encapsulate the personality he has created, but can never quite get the wording right. When he is struck by a flash of genius, someone interrupts him and he forgets it.

He doesn't fit in with either Warner or Whitbread, who is disgusted by 'social climbers' who try to better themselves, but instead of finding people who he does fit in with, John bounces between the two. Larkin conjures up the confusion of youth with his intuitive, poetic prose and flawlessly evokes a specific time in the psyche of England. This is very much a character-driven novel (the plot is simply a means of developing the characters); the thoughtful portrayal of an Oxford undergraduate trying to find his way in life.

Jill is stunning in its simplicity and its honesty. Like Larkin's poems, this novel has a 'harsh edge' that creates a feeling of unease; something imbedded in his seemingly-superficial remarks and descriptions that reaches deeper than you expect. There's something quite seedy underlying even the most beautiful of his sentences. He captures the emotions and national perceptions surrounding the war perfectly - Warner and his friends joke to cover their unease as their hometown, London, is blasted to pieces and despite the carefree attitude of John's peers, the harsh truth is a fierce undercurrent running throughout the book.

Although undeniably a male-oriented novel, the themes of this novel apply to every one of us, whether you're remembering the awkwardness of youth or currently experiencing it - or if you're struggling with your literary characters and finding your own literary voice. I also get the impression that this is the kind of book that reveals new meanings, new significance, as you re-read it. The plot occurs over the space of a single term and yet the journey it takes you on is much longer: you may well find yourself, upon reading this book, questioning your own attitudes and ambitions. It's easy to see why Jill is often regarded, by critics, to be a "classic of its kind".
 

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