Untitled

Christopher Breward
Margaret Marsh urges a rereading of the cliché of the frustrated office worker that
allows more space for the consideration of the satisfaction derived by men from
marital and paternal relationships in the social context of the suburb. Her focus
and material are American, but the thrust of her argument and the insights it
provides for a reconsideration of chronologies and priorities are equally instructive
for the British situation. She states that
When historians think about . . . men at the turn of the twentieth century, among the
images they usually conjure up are that of a bored clerk or middle manager in some
impersonal office . . . counting the company’s money, longing nostalgically for a time
when a man could find adventure and get rich . . . conquering new frontiers . . . We owe
the association of the corporate drone with the flamboyant Rough Rider to an influential
essay by John Higham who argued that one of the most significant American cultural
constructs at the turn of the century was a growing cult of masculinity . . . He cited the
growing popularity of boxing and football, a disaffection from genteel fiction, and, not
least, the rise in the level of national bellicosity, as important indicators of a new public
mood . . . Those anxieties . . . undoubtedly existed, but in the course of my research on
suburban families, I have discovered a different manner of middle class man. There is
evidence to suggest that historians will need to supplement the image of the dissatisfied
clerk, with a picture of a contented suburban father, who enjoyed the security of a regular
salary, a predictable rise through the company hierarchy, and greater leisure. 12
Marsh’s revisions find a resonance in the gentle tone of light domestic novels
published for a middle- and lower-middle-class London market from the late 1880s
onwards. Focusing on the routines of suburban life they provided reassurance for
their readers that the markers of their lives, moving house, pursuing courtships,
hiring servants, attending local functions, taking an annual holiday and occasionally
visiting the glowing lights of the West End, carried emotional worth. Largely
descriptive and lacking the reforming drive that informed social realist novels of
East End life, their purpose was reflective, self-validating, and entertaining. The
power of their humor relied on a close observation of, and sympathy for, the rhythms
of suburban life by the author, and a recognition of the veracity of situations and
character types by the reader. In this sense their overlooked narratives provide a
useful source for the historians keen to uncover nuances lost in the hostile characterizations
of the suburban by polemicists such as Masterman. The particular
value of the novels for the design historian lies in the emphasis they place on the
role of clothing and other commodities in establishing a sense of place, time, and
suburban order.
Foremost among the exponents of the genre was the novelist William Pett Ridge
whose obituary in The Times informed readers that
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