Review: Saturday Night Sunday Morning

You know the type, works at a semi-skilled job in the factory, where his dad works, makes good money, on piece work and he knows how to work the system. He goes home in the evening to his mum and dad's rented terraced house, where his mum has his tea ready, then he puts on one of his many suits, maybe the Teddy one, and goes down the pub. There to get as many as possible “down his neck”. Then maybe on to his girl's place for a bit of loving.

But not “his” girl, but someone else’s wife. There are less complications for him, he only has to fill in for the “slow” husband, and not get involved or committed.

But he does not vote Labour. He steals his father’s polling card to vote Communist, "because they’re different from those big fat Tory bastards in parliament", but he’s not interested in the party’s politics, he is no socialist. During his National Service, a sergeant major tells him to get his hair cut because "he is a soldier now, not a Teddy Boy", Arthur knew he was wrong in either case: "I’m me and nobody else; and whatever people think I am or say I am, that’s what I’m not, because they don’t know a bloody thing about me." And he is deeply unpatriotic about the war.

Hang on, you don't know the type? Well of course you young things don't know this post-war time of National Service, just after rationing was no longer necessary (last restriction lifted in 1954), when you could just walk out of that job and get another as soon as you wanted.

This world has gone, but when this book was written it was still there and the book caused quite a stir when it finally found a publisher. It was a world that the middle class wanted swept under the carpet .... but "my dear they really can't be like that surely". Yes the working class, to be despised, kept in their place, cannon fodder.

But here they are, real people, living real lives, not your middle class life, but real none the less. And not the life you want them to have, but they are here, visible, and we are actually talking about them. After this ground breaking book came all the others, the angry young men “Kathy come home” kitchen sink ... no more novels about upper middle class garden parties and croquet on the lawn, but raw life instead.

This is no 'kitchen sink' socialist piece about hardship and hope, in the spirit of Love on the Dole.

Arthur ain't no socialist: he hates paying taxes, hates unions (as well as employers), wants to blow stuff up and just loves spending his money on booze, sharp new clothes, showing his girl a good time. I have already mentioned Arthur's version of “his girl”, although towards the end, he does begin to think that un-married Doreen might be ok.

Reading this book now is almost like reading history, so much has changed, aspirations have altered.

The working class replaced by the non-working class, doing as you like replaced by day to day survival. Unwanted pregnancies replaced by single parent families.

Do we like Arthur? Not a lot but we do see he is a man of the times. Does he make good. Well there is a book written later about him (Birthday) that might answer that. I must read it!