The Hazelbourne Ladies Motorcycle and Flying Club

This section of the novel develops its presentation of the social upheaval and tensions of postwar Britain. It expands on the male experience, showing that it is not only women who are forced to endure difficult treatment after the war but also wounded veterans—especially amputees—who are subject to society’s desire to resume a sense of normalcy. This is made particularly explicit in Chapter 9, which explores the hypocrisy of these attitudes: When Harris goes to the bank, Mr. Llewellyn applauds the firm’s efforts to employ the wounded, saying, “[W]e go above and beyond here to hire our men wherever we can” (122). However, when discussing one veteran with a disfigured face, the banker says, “Of course you can’t put a man like that in the banking hall where the customers might see him” (122). The novel makes explicit that the public doesn’t want to be reminded of the war or of the physical (and mental) toll it took on so many, so those with obvious injuries—like amputees or ones whose faces are badly scarred—are hard to employ. As Iris points out when discussing the vets at the convalescent home, “Sometimes it seems as if the dead are more convenient than the wounded” (131). This irony suggests that everyone knows how to feel about a man who gives his life in a war; his death doesn’t create mixed emotions or confusion. Grief is painful but straightforward. However, while the public might overtly applaud the sacrifice of the men with shocking injuries, coming face-to-face with such a person creates very different feelings: sympathy, certainly, but also revulsion. The novel shows that these men are the victims of society’s selfish wish to turn away from the consequences of war, made explicit by Iris’s words that newspapers avoid showing these men because their presence “spoil[s] the victory with a full display of the cost” (131). The wounded prove that the world has changed when most people prefer to believe that life can simply return to the way it was. The novel therefore focuses on the experience of the underdog, showing commonalities between the treatment of women and the treatment of injured veterans immediately after the war. This is underpinned by the fact that the women characters often challenge prevailing attitudes toward these veterans, perhaps reflecting a sense that they suffer from the same social forces. Characters like Harris, for instance, show that this sense of solidarity is not reciprocal, as the men generally feel that women’s emancipation is part of the problem for veterans’ reassimilation into normal life. These complex undercurrents, created by the interplay of the characters’ experiences and opinions, enrich the exploration of The Arbitrary Nature of Gender Roles.

The other side of this coin is that many characters are shown developing a new and enhanced Perspective Created by Loss. The grief caused by the war and influenza pandemic creates a new perspective for some. A changed Mrs. Fog, for example, says to Constance, “[S]hould these times not teach us to seize life and live it now, while we can? There is no time left to waste your youth and beauty. You must live life to the full” (34). Her losses resulted in a change to her worldview, and she no longer ascribes much importance to social status or “respectability.” She is willing to try new things, like embracing the idea of Poppy’s lady chauffeurs, and even rekindle old relationships with individuals who her class—represented by her daughter, Lady Mercer—deems “unsuitable.” Likewise, Jock tells Harris, “You have no idea what it is to lose everything,” and “Harris fe[els] a small creeping shame, conscious that he spen[ds] much of his time thinking he d[oes]” (212). Harris has lost a great deal: his leg; his sense of identity, especially around traditional ideas of masculinity; and his father. However, Jock lost more when his wife and two young daughters died. Recognizing Jock’s loss creates a new perspective for Harris, who realizes that he is not as bereft or hopeless as he once believed.

Meanwhile, Constance’s dynamism as a character is revealed by her increased courage, part of the upward trajectory of her character arc in this part. Spending time with the Hazelbourne Ladies Motorcycle Club helps to shift her priorities and enables to novel to contrast and compare female attitudes and approaches. In this way, Constance’s journey as a character is linked to the theme of Social Pressure for Female Respectability, as she is seen gradually reconsidering and casting off the constraints of a “respectable” upper-class woman. On the day of the Victory Parade, “Constance th[inks] it strange that she had so recently longed to be called pretty, but today, among these women, she would [] give[] anything to join the ranks of the competent” (139). She boldly agrees to ride with the club, risking social criticism for being “unfeminine.” She also refuses to avoid the unpleasant feelings associated with seeing the wounded at the Penneston convalescent home. She overcomes her anxiety about facing men with life-altering disfigurements and goes “forward to be introduced as a new member of the club, [hoping] no one w[ill] detect that behind her grin she [i]s speaking sternly to herself all the while” (128). Constance doesn’t allow herself to avoid discomfort, as she once might have, because she doesn’t want to let the men down. This practice of strengthening and emboldening herself pays off when Constance is faced with Lady Mercer’s hauteur. She surprises herself when she speaks in a voice that is “calm now but firm,” telling the imperious woman that her “mother would not appreciate such treatment of her daughter” by her so-called friend (208). Constance is changing from a young woman bound by duty and convention into one who is much more self-assured and willing to stand up to the status quo.