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“A Dance to the Music of Time” is one of those books I’d always promised myself that I’d read. I first became aware of it when the book was dramatised on Radio Four, back in the early 1980’s. At the time, the previous Mrs Bailey was an avid listener to the broadcasts, and although I dipped in and out of the dramatisation, I never properly got into it. That wasn’t quite true as I remained mildly fascinated by such a lengthy novel, so some 40 years on was determined to fulfil my desire to one day read the book, in its entirety. So, in June last year, I bit the bullet and placed an order for “Spring,” the first volume in the series. I have been reading my way through that, and subsequent volumes until the present date, and have enjoyed the books immensely. I still haven’t finished – more about that later.
“A Dance to the Music of Time” is a multi-volume novel, published in twelve instalments between 1951and 1975 and spans a large chunk of the 20th Century, from the years before the First World War to the early nineteen-seventies. It was written by English writer Anthony Powell – pronounced “pole” rather than “pow-ell,” who was a contemporary of other 20th Century literary luminaries, such as Evelyn Waugh, Graham Greene and George Orwell.
It has a cast of several hundred characters, drawn largely from the English upper middle classes. This was a society where the well to do and the bohemian overlap, and a world where no-one appears to have a proper job. As the novels progress, it is clear that this society was disappearing, even as Powell wrote the books, so for those interested in mid-20thCentury history, the novels provide a fascinating insight, into a rapidly vanishing world.
Another element about the series, and one which keeps readers on their toes, is the various characters come and go throughout the books; just as they might in real life. At times it is hard to keep up, as some characters who might have just a minor role in one volume, appear later with a major one later in the series. The same is true the other way around.
The books are narrated by a writer called Nicholas Jenkins, who is closely modelled on Powell himself, and many of the events portrayed in the narrative, reflect similar happenings in the life of the author.
The twelve books, whilst not quite stand-alone novels, run roughly in chronological order through Jenkins’s life; although there are a couple of exceptions which appear almost as flashbacks. The twelve books are grouped into four sets of three novel volumes that reflect the seasons, and are titled accordingly Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter.
The Spring volume chronicles Nick Jenkins and his friends, from their time at public school – almost certainly Eton College, through to them making their way into what Powell describes as the “acceptance world.” This is a world of debutantes and society balls which, whilst sounding glamorous, turn out to be predictable and often boring affairs.
Summer continues this theme through the late 1920’s and into the 30’s, detailing the comings and goings amongst the crowd that Jenkins falls in with. Although members of the aristocracy many of the characters have fallen on hard times. There is also a definite bohemian element amongst them. Nick marries into the aristocracy by wedding Isobel, one of the Tolland sisters; siblings of Lord Erridge, Earl of Warminster, an eccentric socialist peer, who goes off to take part in the Spanish Civil War. Nick’s marriage, mimics that of Powell’s own to Lady Violet Packenham, daughter of the 5th Earl of Longford.
The third book in this volume is a flashback to 1914, when Nick was still living at home with his parents. The events of that summer, which led to the start of the First World War, are deliberately set against the storm clouds that gathered over Europe during the latter part of the 1930’s, with the Spanish Civil War casting a shadow and acting as a chilling precursor to the horrors of World War II.
Autumn details Nick Jenkins’s experiences through that war, and to me is the dullest and most drawn-out of the four volumes. Given his age, Nick does not see active service, but does eventually obtain a posting within the section set up to liaise with the forces of the occupied countries who are fighting the Nazis alongside the western allies.
One character who crops up throughout the series, is Kenneth Widmerpool, a slightly tragic, anti-hero, described by one critic as “one of the most memorable characters of 20thCentury fiction.” Because of his awkwardness and total lack of any self-shame, Widmerpool is ridiculed and made fun of by his peers, but despite this becomes determined to show the world what he is made of.
He turns into a real social climber who, against the grain, achieves high office, first in the military and then in politics and, much to Nick's chagrin, keeps popping up in his life, often at the most awkward of moments.
The Winter volume covers the years following World War II,up until the 1970’s. Here, Nick continues his literary career, becoming the reviewer for "Fission," a socialist magazine, backed by Quiggin, a Marxist writer and adversary from his time at Oxford. Financial backing for this magazine comes from non-other than Kenneth Widmerpool.
I have now started the second book of this final volume, which jumps forward to the late 1950’s, and sees Nick attending a literary conference in Venice; a city he remembers from visits during childhood, with his paents. Even whist far away from home shores, it comes as no surprise that he should bump into Widmerpool, accompanied this time by his highly attractive, but "man-eating" wife, Pamela.
I have been thoroughly engrossed in this series of novels for the past 14 months; so much so that it will be a shame in some respects to finish them. I of course, had aspirations of reading one of these volumes whilst lounging out on the deck of the Queen Mary 2, on the cruise Mrs PBT’sand I booked, across the North Sea to Hamburg, but alas it was not to be. Instead the books helped keep me sane through the long weeks of lock-down and into the unsettled times we now find ourselves in. There’s much to be said about “a book at bedtime,” especially as one can lose oneself in another word, before drifting off into a restful sleep, and I’m certainly glad I embarked on this marathon, 12 book novel.
So if there are any literary gems, or even a plain old novel that you’ve always promised yourself you’d read, you could do far worse than just follow you desire and discover whether or not that special book really was worthy of your time and your patience.

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