Writing about my latest Furrowed Middlebrow / Dean Street Press read, I have to mention the recent, tragically early death of Rupert Heath – the brainchild behind Dean Street Press. He leaves behind him an extraordinary legacy of reprint publishing – thanks for everything, Rupert. You can read more about this at Scott’s blog.
And this blog post will be yet another tribute to what he has achieved, because Babbacombe’s (1941) by Susan Scarlett is a lovely book. It was recommended to me many years ago, but at that point it was impossible to lay hands on a copy – thank goodness it’s now available as a Furrowed Middlebrow book. And it is right bang in the middle of middlebrow – totally predictable, but all the more enjoyable for that.
If you don’t recognise the name Susan Scarlett, you may well known the writer behind the pseudonym – because this was the name under which Noel Streatfeild wrote her lighter novels. In this one, Beth has just left school and is getting her first job. She manages to secure one at Babbacombe’s – the department store where her father has worked for decades. It’s a large, tightly organised place where young employees have to quickly find their place in the whirring cogs of the machine, and Beth is keen to do her best in the frocks section. Less keen to please is Dulcie – a cousin who moves in with them. She considers herself a cut above because she is paying them board and has a small private income, and is keen to be a model in the shop – but instead finds herself as a ‘lift girl’. She is vain, impractical and selfish, and hung out to dry by the narrative in a way that did feel a bit uncomfortable to read in 2023.
Beth, on the other hand, is filled with decency and morals – but also, in order to make her lovable, a tendency to speak her mind to anybody. And that includes the curious young man she ends up stick in a lift with. (Being stuck in a lift with someone seems such a 1990s romcom trope, so it’s oddly reassuring to know that it’s been around since at least the 1940s.) She had previously caught his eye when she tripped over his brilliantly named dog, Scissors. And she tells him how much she loves Babbacombe’s and admires the owner, Mr Babbacombe, a self-made man who has worked his way from obscurity to riches – but, naturally, kept his salt-of-the-earth character. Not that she says all that; we see that for ourselves a bit later.
Little does she know – though the reader has probably suspected from the first time the man was introduced – that this is David Babbacombe, the son of the owner. He is an affluent idler, on his way up to ask his father for some more money. And, let me tell you, this way of life doesn’t strike Beth and her work ethic as being very noble:
Beth examined his lean, athletic figure in shocked surprise.
“Don’t you work at anything?”
“No. A little beachcombing now and again, and I’ve a hoard of silver cups won for this and that.”
Beth forget he was Mr. Babbacombe’s son and only felt that she liked him too much to want to despise him.
“I should have thought doing nothing but playing games was pretty dull.”
He tapped some ash clear of his coat.
“Oh, it’s all right.”
Beth hated that.
“But it isn’t. It’s miserable. You might as well be a cabbage.”
Rather chastened, David changes his mind when he gets to his father. Rather than asking for a handout, he asks for a job – and starting at the bottom.
The rest of this lovely novel is David winning Beth’s heart, and then convincing her that the class difference between them is immaterial. She takes some winning over, and in real life he would seem pretty appalling for how little agency he gives her, but Babbacombe’s is not real life and we all know the ending that we both want and are going to get. Along the way there is some fun mistaken identity business, stuff with a shoplifter, a rather tense section about an eye operation, and much more. The stakes may be high for the characters, but they are never particularly high for the reader because we know what sort of book this is.
You wouldn’t necessarily want to read a book like Babbacombe’s every day, but there is indisputably a talent in creating something this perfectly frothy and engaging. Even besides the delightful storyline, this is a wonderful novel for period detail on the inner workings of a department store – and I suspect there are many of us who can’t resist that.
When I posted a photo on Instagram, the comments were filled with other people saying how much they’d enjoyed this book. An absolute triumph and a perfect example of the sort of book it’s trying to me. Vale, Rupert, and thank you for all the lovely books like this.
Thanks for this. The book is in my list (for purchase consideration).
You won’t regret it :)
The news was shocking, wasn’t it Simon? Such a young age.
I’ve only read one Furrowed Middlebrow so far I think, though I do have a number of digital DSP books lurking. Plus I have a Susan Scarlett which I must read. There’s nothing wrong with a book where you know everything will turn out ok – sometimes that’s just what you need to read…
So young, and his wife just died too – shocking for the family.
There are so many Furrowed Middlebrow treats for you out there – one for more or less any club year!
Sounds like a lovely book. Dreadful loss of Rupert! I wonder if anyone else may jump in and keep the imprint going? I’ve read loads and hate to think there won’t be any more.
I really hope they will – I know that the series editors are external, so I suppose time will tell.
Very sad news. This is a lovely tribute to his work.
It has been lovely seeing tributes appear – many from the detective fiction blogging world too.
How sad and shocking about Rupert. I hope some way will be found to continue his legacy of bringing lovely old stories back for readers to enjoy.
Babbacombe’s sounds delightful.
Such a terrible shock – and what a legacy he leaves. I too hope it can continue with new titles, somehow.
Saving this as I have Babbacombe’s on the TBR. I know that all the books will remain in print as long as their copyright lasts, but there won’t be any new ones, if that helps anyone (advised by Rupert’s sister, who sent out an email to reviewers and the like).
Oh interesting – I got the email from his sister, but it didn’t have any details beyond the news of his death. Sad that there won’t be more.
I think it was when I went back to Victoria, sorry I didn’t reply to this at the time. And I LOVED Babbacombe’s – of course I did! Who doesn’t love a book set in a department store?
I have found this book last month, and was instantly intrigued – it sounds witty and charming. And the premises is a department store – I am now reading The Ladies’ Paradise (Emile Zola) which is also about department store, and find it quite interesting. Can’t wait to read it!
Oh that would be a good comparison, yes! It’s the sort of immersion in the detail of it that feels so natural, and you couldn’t get so believable in a historical novel.
I enjoyed Clothes Pegs and had my eye on this one for next. I’m saving up my Dean Street reads for Liz’s celebration in December, that is a time when I feel in the mood for middlebrow somehow. It is a sad loss of Rupert Heath but we can still celebrate how much he gave us.
I have Clothes Pegs on the shelf, so that’s good to know!
Rupert’s passing is so hard to comprehend.
This looks like a real winner of a book, though. Thanks.
Such a shock, so awful.
I loved this book. Totally shocked at the death of Rupert. He used to write such lovely emails to me.
Yes, he always did send such generous and kind emails
Shocked and saddened by Rupert’s death.
I wasn’t sure if Susan Scarlett would be too light for me, but I must say this sounds delightful. I may get this one.
It really is lovely.
Just what I want/need to read right now – thank you very much for this wonderful review, a joy to read in itself!