Post-war Britain and family strain - "The Soldier's Return" at Book Club

Ten of us met on 13 January at Hanami as usual, and Lorna introduced The Soldier's Return by Melvyn Bragg. She reminded us that Bragg has had a long, varied and very successful career as a writer and broadcaster. He was brought up in Wigton, a small town in northern Cumbria, the son of a publican who had served in Burma during the Second World War, and the novel has a strong autobiographical component. 

This is the first of a trilogy (later extended to a tetralogy) about the family of Sam, who returns home from Burma in the spring of 1946. Soldiers who fought in Europe had, of course, returned earlier, so there is much less fuss and welcome for those coming back from the Far East, and many jobs have already been re-filled. Sam is met by his wife Ellen and his six-year-old son Joe, whom he has never met (and whose experiences clearly reflect those of the young Melvyn Bragg). The job Sam was promised at the start of the war would be kept open for him has gone, and he can find only poorly paid, dull work.

Sam is suffering from what we would now recognise as PTSD but he is unable to talk about it or even to see that he might need to. At least one of his old friends is far worse, unable to leave his home because there are “Japs everywhere”. Ellen, meanwhile, has become more independent; she has two jobs and no intention of being a full-time housewife again. Joe is increasingly afraid of his father, who sees him as weak because he cannot stand up to gangs of older boys. Levels of distrust and even fear gradually increase. All three are deeply unhappy, but there seems to be no way to break through the silence and misunderstanding. Eventually Sam decides that the only solution is to emigrate to Australia with one of his army friends, but Ellen's whole life is Wigton and she cannot face the idea of leaving it.

Overall we all enjoyed the book and found a lot to admire. The sense place and time and the social circumstances of post-war Britain are very well drawn, reminding us – as with our recent Colm Tóibín books – just how much has changed within most of our lifetimes. The stoicism, the inability to talk about difficult (or indeed any) feelings and the slow build-up of tension and even a threat of violence between essentially loving and kind people all felt convincing.

The ending comes as a surprise (spoiler alert, Sam doesn't emigrate!), but most of us found it rather unconvincing and contrived, though we thought it would probably work better in a film. A few people also found Bragg's style a little clunky, although Lyndsay recommended the audiobook, read in a Cumbrian accent, which she felt really brings it to life.