The Country Girls, by Edna O'Brien

This book struck me as both so timely, and so dated; as a result, I simply couldn't get enough of this novel, at times reading in a sense of horrified anticipation. The main character, Caithleen, seems intensely naive in her story telling, despite (or perhaps because of) the adult world she is so desperate to enter into. This old-world innocence is juxtaposed with an all too current event of the over-sexualisation of young girls.

Caithleen lives in a world of uncertainty: her father is an abusive drunk, her mother dies suddenly, and she is left to divide her time between the cold convent in which she receives her education, and the dishonest and over-privileged home of her bullying 'best friend', Baba. By comparison, the elegant figure of 'Mr Gentleman' seems an attractive shelter from the storm- despite the fact that he is married and far, far older than her. He starts to cultivate a relationship with Caithleen, still very innocent at first, but clearly masking a distasteful interest on his behalf.

Caithleen is breathtakingly juvenile about the relationship, convinced the pair are in love. And perhaps love does enter the equation; at the very least, Mr Gentleman develops an obsession with Caithleen's youth and sweetness, but it does become unsettlingly apparent that she is not his first youthful prey, and that this relationship must have a termination date, which can only end painfully for Cait.

This storyline sounds abhorrent, but somehow the innocent wishfulness of Cait, as she tells her story (of moving to Dublin and making her own life, of unsatisfactory attempts to find love in the city, of refusals of other older men, of finally standing up to Baba in small ways) paints it all in a rose tinted light. Caithleen is a charming character, and the reader can't help but hope for her happiness. The ending, suprisingly, wraps up very little, but hints at a new path, which could finally lead Caithleen to that joyous life we, as reader, feel she deserves. 

The L-Shaped Room, by Lynne Reid Banks

This novel marked the first of my Cheltenham Shortlist (the books which, had the Man Booker existed 50 years ago, would likely have been shortlisted), other than those I had read at an earlier stage. It is an interesting project to switch from reading the most prized, very-modern literature, to a novel whose style and subject would have been intensely modern in the 1960s. However, through its sheer 60s-ness, it also seems very dated.

The L-Shaped Room deals with the then-controversial subject of an unmarried woman in her late 20s falling pregnant, and the circumstances that occur after her standoffish and conservative father rejects her, and ejects her from the family home. Determined to lead a hermetic life in her new, cheap digs, Jane soon makes connections to new folk, expands her horizons and learns to accept herself, and her baby.

The book traverses some pretty controversial material for the time, but it is unable to completely shake the notion that pre-marital sex is 'wrong', that unmarried motherdom is 'wrong'. Jane may be pregnant, but it was a result of her first sexual experience (and an unenjoyable one, at that). Despite her father's rejection, Jane is constantly supported by other men in her life. Jane is moving towards being a symbol of independence through having a job, and being prepared to 'do it on her own', but this notion is undermined by the fact that the other strong women in the novel are either harridans, prostitutes or doomed to die alone.

While the novel toys with several moments of Jane's ability to choose her path, including abortion and raising a child alone, in the end it ties things up with happy coincidences and twee unions and reunions. The novel is an interesting read, if only for an insight into the mindset of 1960, but in the end felt a bit hollow and unsatisfying.