Our Noble Selves by Kate Atkinson: A very British treat

A new Kate Atkinson is always a cause for celebration for me. I’ve been a fan since Behind the Scenes at the Museum back in 1995. Set against the backdrop of 1951’s Festival of Britain, Our Noble Selves follows Harry Flynn who becomes involved in the organisation of the extravagant event aimed at reviving British spirits after the war and showcasing what the country can offer the world.

He thought of his heart, if it had existed at all, as something that had started to ossify some time ago, petrification that was completed in Burma. The little dog, gazing miserably at him, threatened to crack open the calcified organ as easily a nut.  

Flynn’s living in a pokey flat on the edges of Soho after his departure from the Wealdstone house of his war widow wife, leaving his sulky stepdaughter and Mrs Betty, his beloved dog, behind, when Gerald Barry spots him in a park, staring into space. Flynn had ended up in Burma by way of a short stint as a war correspondent working for Barry. His new job involves trawling through the execrable poetic contributions from the public for the Festival Anthology, joining the team making similar judgements about the astonishingly eccentric artefacts donated for the Lion and Unicorn stand. Despite his unassuming manner, Flynn is a magnet for women, one of whom invites him for a drink before disappearing after rudely walking out on him leaving Flynn flummoxed and wondering why he has a black eye the next day after drowning his sorrows as he so often does. Before long, he finds himself drawn into a labyrinthine intrigue which sees him almost on first name terms with the Bow Street police and in bed with an MI5 agent. By the end of the Festival, the puzzle of Delphine’s disappearance will have been satisfyingly solved, Flynn will have been reunited with his stepdaughter, and more importantly with Mrs Betty who’s delighted to see him.

The Boy’s own father having died before the war (of something simply referred to as ‘lungs’ by his mother), Evans had taken him under his wing and, in loco parentis, had assumed the task of trying to civilize the Boy before he evolved into Man and was therefore for ever damned.  

Atkinson fans will recognise many of her trademarks in this new novel: a multitude of literary and classical allusions; the slightly puzzled decent male protagonist; smart, quick-witted women and a dog, safe to the end. Rationing is still in force, bombsites have yet to be built on and there are many men, quietly keeping the horror of their war experience to themselves. Atkinson’s characters are always well drawn but the irrepressible Boy attached to Flynn’s team who’s never seen a cow and is happy to dispose of any weird or wonderful artefacts, and waspish Veronica, considerably savvier than her stepfather, are the stars of the show. There’s a good deal of characteristic knowing wit to enjoy and the plot pleasingly thickens as Flynn sets about his investigations, unwittingly making things worse. I loved this one which seemed to fit somewhere between Lissa Evans and Jonathan Coe’s novels to me. It more than made up for the slight disappointment of At the Sign of the Rook.

Doubleday Books: London 9781529937824 352 pages Hardback (NetGalley)