The critics were unanimous in their admiration, albeit with some reservations about the morality of the work. The Illustrated London News acknowledged that many readers would find it “an unpleasant book”, but praised it as “very sympathetic to one of the most touching and pitiful things in the world — the opening heart of a woman in unworthy surroundings”. The Spectator accused Mackenzie’s novel of displaying a “curious hostility toward the male sex” and a “frank disregard of the conventional canons of taste”, but admitted its “occasional brilliancy of presentation”.
Sinister Street is perhaps the most compelling of all. There are three key bildungsromane of this period that redefined the genre and offered realistic and unflinching portraits of adolescence. The first was Forrest Reid’s Following Darkness (1912), soon followed by the first volume of Mackenzie’s Sinister Street (1913) and James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916). According to Henry James, by writing Sinister Street Mackenzie had “emancipated the English novel”.
Sinister Street tells the story of the young Michael Fane, from his earliest memories in the crib to his graduation from Oxford University. Its frank depiction of the sexual impulse in youth, and even the homosexual activities that were commonplace in public schools, prompted many booksellers and libraries to ban it from their shelves. The added publicity inevitably made it a sensation. It was one of George Orwell’s favourite novels while a boy at prep school; he described in a letter to Julian Symons how he “got into severe trouble (and I think a caning – I forget) for having a copy”.
Although not in any sense an autobiography, Sinister Street does draw on many of the author’s experiences. While still at school, Michael finds himself in a social clique of homosexual aesthetes, led by the poet Arthur Wilmot. His manner of speech so perfectly captures that combination of the arch and the faux-grandiose that seems a perpetual characteristic of what has become known as the “gay sensibility”. “I should like to die as La Gioconda was painted,” says Arthur, “listening to flute-players in a curtained alcove; or you, Michael, shall read to me some diabolic and funereal song of Baudelaire, so that I may fearfully pass away.”
Mackenzie observed such characters at close quarters. He was only 16 when he befriended members of Oscar Wilde’s inner circle, including Lord Alfred Douglas, Robbie Ross and Reggie Turner. This was in early 1899, just four years after Wilde’s trial and a year before his death. On one particularly memorable night, Douglas invited Mackenzie to a dinner-party and took him afterwards to the Pavilion music hall in Piccadilly (now part of the Trocadero shopping centre). Douglas gave him a signed copy of his poetry collection The City of the Soul. “Someone pinched the volume from my library many years later,” Mackenzie notes in his autobiography. “I suppose it will turn up in a book-catalogue at some absurd price when I am dead.” A quick Google search confirms that he is correct; it was auctioned off for £1,000 in 2019.
Perhaps it was Mackenzie’s deep commitment to his Catholic faith that prevented him from dwelling on his unorthodox attitude to sexual convention. In all ten volumes of his autobiography, there is not one mention of his own bisexuality. When he lived on the island of Capri with his wife Faith between 1913 and 1920, the more tolerant attitude of the locals meant there was little need to keep such matters secret. After all, Capri had been the destination for many gay men fleeing England after Wilde’s imprisonment.
The marriage between Faith and Compton Mackenzie lasted for 55 years until her death in 1960. They had no children — other than a stillborn son in 1909 — but their mutual love and respect never wavered. Remarkable for the time, theirs was an entirely open relationship, in keeping with Faith’s belief in the principle of “love and let live”. Both had sexual relationships with men and women. Mackenzie’s affair on Capri with Luigi Ruggerio (brother of Capri’s most famous gardener, Mimì Ruggiero) coincided with Faith’s affair with the Italian pianist Renata Borgatti. In his book Capri: Island of Pleasure, the historian James Money notes that Mackenzie had invested in a second property, a cottage in the Valley of Cetrella, “for private meetings with his boy-friends”.
The thriving community of lesbian expatriates on Capri during the First World War was the subject of one of Mackenzie’s best works, Extraordinary Women (1928), the first novel about lesbians to be sold in British bookshops. Although often wrongly dismissed as homophobic, the subject of his satire is the pretensions of the privileged; the sexual orientation of his characters is treated throughout as entirely natural. The novel appeared a matter of months after Radclyffe Hall’s The Well of Loneliness, which became the subject of a famous obscenity trial for its portrayal of same-sex love. Perhaps the comedic tone of Extraordinary Women, and its male authorship, prevented it from stirring the antennae of the censors.
Extraordinary Women was the second of Mackenzie’s romans à clef about the people he knew on Capri. The first is the brilliant Vestal Fire (1927) , a work that reaches great satirical heights simply by accurately reflecting the realities of the colourful range of Anglo-American expatriates that occupied the island in the first part of the 20th century. The story revolves around the gay French aristocrat Baron Jacques d’Adelswärd-Fersen, who had fled Paris for Capri after a sex scandal, and the civil war that erupts in the expatriate community as a result of his presence.
The depiction of Kate and Saidee Wolcott-Perry, an American lesbian couple who had combined their surnames and lived as sisters, is particularly striking. Mackenzie changed the names of all the characters, and postponed writing the novel until the key figures had died in order to avoid libel, yet it provides a fascinating account of this bizarre little community who had found a corner of the world in which they could live without fear of judgement. Faith Compton Mackenzie had captured the sense of it when she later recalled that “everyone was either a little bit or extremely mad”.
It seems that Mackenzie was drawn inexorably to islands. Leo Robertson described him as an “island-addict” who was nonetheless “the least insular of persons”. After his time on Capri, he bought the lease for Herm and Jethou in the Channel Islands, living on one then the other until he eventually relocated to the island of Barra in the Outer Hebrides. Yet for a man who had lived such a rich life, and who had seen the utter transformation of his world, Mackenzie was never guilty of nostalgia. His was a belief in the eternity of the present. It was why he never revisited any of the islands where he had enjoyed his happiest moments. He only returned to Barra after his death, to be buried in the old churchyard of Eolaigearraidh.
He was able to retain his childlike energy and enthusiasm throughout his 89 years. “I am temperamentally incapable of dwelling upon unhappiness,” he wrote in My Life and Times, “I sympathise with the sundial’s preference for sunny hours.” There is a wonderful interview with Mackenzie for the BBC’s Face to Face, recorded in January 1962. At nearly 80 years of age, he has somehow retained the impish quality of his youth. That the interview takes place with Mackenzie lying in bed should not imply a lack of vigour; this was a theatrical device invented by the programme makers.
He did not necessarily fear death but, like a child, the idea struck him as faintly preposterous. He reflected on his own mortality in the ninth volume of his autobiography. “As I write these words on the edge of my 88th year I am becoming so much more and more aware of the sacredness of life that the obliteration of it by death becomes continuously more incredible.” Only his faith could make sense of it. “The Christian creed,” he wrote, “offers the only rational guide to an otherwise incomprehensible universe.”
A mere 50 years after Compton Mackenzie’s death, there is really no excuse for the way in which we have allowed him to be forgotten. And although most of his books are not easily found, they still merit our time and attention. That the most accomplished of artists are destined for oblivion is beyond our powers to prevent, but we might at least do our utmost to hinder the process.
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SubscribeVery interesting article. I just checked the online catalogue of our local library and they have several MacKenzie titles. I’ll give one a try.
Very interesting article. I just checked the online catalogue of our local library and they have several MacKenzie titles. I’ll give one a try.
The original film version of Whisky Galore was one of my favourites growing up and there was a half-decent remake in 2016, so the name Compton Mackenzie had a vaguely familiar ring when i read the headings for Andrew Doyle’s latest contribution. I’d no idea of the enormous scope of Mackenzie’s output though, so once again, thanks Andrew for drawing attention to a corner of our cultural heritage in danger of being lost from view..
As an aside, it’s also set me thinking about a Lancashire lass who found fame in the 1930s, Gracie Fields. She was condemned for going to live on Capri with her American husband during WW2 when it was said of her that she was failing to do her duty in the war effort by not entertaining troops, in the Vera Lynn style. Perhaps she was simply misunderstood and her move to Capri was for rather more personal reasons.
ROCHDALE lass please!
Whenever I hear of Brits on Capri, I think of Noel Coward and his Bar on the Piccola Marina.
Yes, the best song he ever wrote IMO.
Yes, the best song he ever wrote IMO.
This surprises me, given that Gracie Fields was well known for her performances for the troops. Example here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=roFRz15xhwQ
She did adore Capri. She’s buried there in the Cimitero Acattolico.
Sir William Walton, another Lancastrian (Oldham) seems similarly to have adored adjacent Ischia, and at about the same time.
Must be something to do with “Dark Satanic Mills” and “La Dolce Vita”
The latter is now just a well-known Italian restaurant on the outskirts of Greater Manchester!
Not by any chance near Mr Pierrepoint’s old pub?
Not by any chance near Mr Pierrepoint’s old pub?
The latter is now just a well-known Italian restaurant on the outskirts of Greater Manchester!
Thanks for that correction. It was something i’d just picked up anecdotally from my parents a long time ago, who’d previously been big fans of hers. Possibly an early example of misinformation!
P.G. Wodehouse suffered from that as well.
P.G. Wodehouse suffered from that as well.
Sir William Walton, another Lancastrian (Oldham) seems similarly to have adored adjacent Ischia, and at about the same time.
Must be something to do with “Dark Satanic Mills” and “La Dolce Vita”
Thanks for that correction. It was something i’d just picked up anecdotally from my parents a long time ago, who’d previously been big fans of hers. Possibly an early example of misinformation!
Her husband was Italian. They left England as otherwise he faced internment as an enemy alien.
ROCHDALE lass please!
Whenever I hear of Brits on Capri, I think of Noel Coward and his Bar on the Piccola Marina.
This surprises me, given that Gracie Fields was well known for her performances for the troops. Example here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=roFRz15xhwQ
She did adore Capri. She’s buried there in the Cimitero Acattolico.
Her husband was Italian. They left England as otherwise he faced internment as an enemy alien.
The original film version of Whisky Galore was one of my favourites growing up and there was a half-decent remake in 2016, so the name Compton Mackenzie had a vaguely familiar ring when i read the headings for Andrew Doyle’s latest contribution. I’d no idea of the enormous scope of Mackenzie’s output though, so once again, thanks Andrew for drawing attention to a corner of our cultural heritage in danger of being lost from view..
As an aside, it’s also set me thinking about a Lancashire lass who found fame in the 1930s, Gracie Fields. She was condemned for going to live on Capri with her American husband during WW2 when it was said of her that she was failing to do her duty in the war effort by not entertaining troops, in the Vera Lynn style. Perhaps she was simply misunderstood and her move to Capri was for rather more personal reasons.
. “I am temperamentally incapable of dwelling upon unhappiness,” he wrote in My Life and Times, “I sympathise with the sundial’s preference for sunny hours.”
What a lucky man to be blessed with such a cast of mind!
. “I am temperamentally incapable of dwelling upon unhappiness,” he wrote in My Life and Times, “I sympathise with the sundial’s preference for sunny hours.”
What a lucky man to be blessed with such a cast of mind!
I knew nothing of Compton McKenzie before reading this. If I didn’t trust the author I’d have assumed it were a fictional biography! Fascinating stuff.
I knew nothing of Compton McKenzie before reading this. If I didn’t trust the author I’d have assumed it were a fictional biography! Fascinating stuff.
What a great name for a ship, the SS Politician. Gives me a new vision when I think of rats deserting a sinking ship.
A few months ago I went on a fishing trip from Whitby and caught quite a lot of cod on the wreck of the SS Boris.
A few months ago I went on a fishing trip from Whitby and caught quite a lot of cod on the wreck of the SS Boris.
What a great name for a ship, the SS Politician. Gives me a new vision when I think of rats deserting a sinking ship.
Top shelf, Andrew.
Top shelf, Andrew.
For those of you inspired by this excellent article to read Mackenzie, if you’re reading any of his fiction published before c. 1925, do read them in order. The characters from different books meet, fall in love (and out), and affect each others’ stories, and in some of the later books, Mackenzie just summarises long conversations that happened in earlier ones.
For those of you inspired by this excellent article to read Mackenzie, if you’re reading any of his fiction published before c. 1925, do read them in order. The characters from different books meet, fall in love (and out), and affect each others’ stories, and in some of the later books, Mackenzie just summarises long conversations that happened in earlier ones.
And his autobiography is an absolute delight and a must read
https://www.amazon.com/As-Much-Dare-Autobiography-Mackenzie/dp/B000V3QF28
Ah, but that book was written by his wife!
Sounds intriguing, but I thought the article’s author said his autobiography was in ten volumes rather than one!
Ah, but that book was written by his wife!
Sounds intriguing, but I thought the article’s author said his autobiography was in ten volumes rather than one!
And his autobiography is an absolute delight and a must read
https://www.amazon.com/As-Much-Dare-Autobiography-Mackenzie/dp/B000V3QF28
Absolutely fascinating article. I am now on the scout for any of his works. Thank you.
Absolutely fascinating article. I am now on the scout for any of his works. Thank you.
Thank you for reminding me about Compton Mackenzie. I have Sinister Street on my bookshelves and first read it as a teenager about sixty years ago. Its time I read it again!
Thank you for reminding me about Compton Mackenzie. I have Sinister Street on my bookshelves and first read it as a teenager about sixty years ago. Its time I read it again!
Many thanks for this interesting essay on Compton MacKenzie. It is articles like this that keep me reading Unherd despite the tide of dross that all too often appears. I suppose it is hard to keep up a stream of decent articles and the publishers have to include the mediocre as well. It might be better stick to to publishing fewer but excellent articles instead of irritating the readership with poor material.
Many thanks for this interesting essay on Compton MacKenzie. It is articles like this that keep me reading Unherd despite the tide of dross that all too often appears. I suppose it is hard to keep up a stream of decent articles and the publishers have to include the mediocre as well. It might be better stick to to publishing fewer but excellent articles instead of irritating the readership with poor material.
Sinister Street is available on Project Gutenberg.
A very enjoyable article. Thank you.
Sinister Street is available on Project Gutenberg.
A very enjoyable article. Thank you.
About a year ago I came across his Rival Monster comedy about Nessie in a charity shop. I’d never heard of him but bought it and thoroughly enjoyed it. Thank you for this piece – it will act as s guide for me to read more!
About a year ago I came across his Rival Monster comedy about Nessie in a charity shop. I’d never heard of him but bought it and thoroughly enjoyed it. Thank you for this piece – it will act as s guide for me to read more!
I did try Monarch of the Glen a few years ago but could’nt get on with it. However I do have his book On Moral Courage which I enjoyed very much and value. I’ll definitely give one of his novels another go after reading this, thanks Andrew.
I did try Monarch of the Glen a few years ago but could’nt get on with it. However I do have his book On Moral Courage which I enjoyed very much and value. I’ll definitely give one of his novels another go after reading this, thanks Andrew.
“Cultural amnesia”: undoubtedly. Where is the recognition that criticism, distinguishing the profound from the shallow , the necessary to keep from the throw-away, to be found. Certainly not in university literature depts. obsessed with identity politics;certainly not in the review columns of the so-called quality press. No review of quality I know of has survived since Ian Robinson’s “Human World” in the seventies; F. R. Leavis- one of the most important intellectuals of the century is held in derision for being elitist and/or simply ignored. D.H. Lawrence the greatest English novelist , short story-writer is known only for his one-failure (yet another film edition of Lady C. is out apparently). Compton MacKenzie? While one appreciates what Doyle is doing here I have suspicions he is investing a small talent with greater significance than deserved. Lawrence rather brilliantly apparently used his island-hopping as the stimulus for his short-story “The Man Who Love Islands”. However, the article is a good encouragement to have another look.
By no means a small talent. Those who considered Mackenzie a major literary talent included Henry James, F. Scott Fitzgerald, George Orwell and P. G. Wodehouse. I’m with them…
OK-fair answer. I shall reconsider by reading a few.
I think Carnival, Sinister Street and Sylvia Scarlett are likely to be considered his best. Personally, I prefer Vestal Fire and Extraordinary Women – but I’m probably in a minority there.
THanks for this. I’ll try them.
THanks for this. I’ll try them.
I think Carnival, Sinister Street and Sylvia Scarlett are likely to be considered his best. Personally, I prefer Vestal Fire and Extraordinary Women – but I’m probably in a minority there.
I agree that his was a major talent. I suspect that one reason for his virtual disappearance from modern shelves (other than that strumpet Fashion) is also one of things that appealed to his original readers: his tight and detailed focus on contemporary characters and moeurs. I’m particularly fond of his church trilogy: The Altar Steps, Parson’s Progress and The Heavenly Ladder. the first two, in particular, are ‘romans à clef’ – one can identify many of the characters and institutions Mackenzie describes, and they’re a wonderful insight into the early 20th-century C of E.
OK-fair answer. I shall reconsider by reading a few.
I agree that his was a major talent. I suspect that one reason for his virtual disappearance from modern shelves (other than that strumpet Fashion) is also one of things that appealed to his original readers: his tight and detailed focus on contemporary characters and moeurs. I’m particularly fond of his church trilogy: The Altar Steps, Parson’s Progress and The Heavenly Ladder. the first two, in particular, are ‘romans à clef’ – one can identify many of the characters and institutions Mackenzie describes, and they’re a wonderful insight into the early 20th-century C of E.
By no means a small talent. Those who considered Mackenzie a major literary talent included Henry James, F. Scott Fitzgerald, George Orwell and P. G. Wodehouse. I’m with them…
“Cultural amnesia”: undoubtedly. Where is the recognition that criticism, distinguishing the profound from the shallow , the necessary to keep from the throw-away, to be found. Certainly not in university literature depts. obsessed with identity politics;certainly not in the review columns of the so-called quality press. No review of quality I know of has survived since Ian Robinson’s “Human World” in the seventies; F. R. Leavis- one of the most important intellectuals of the century is held in derision for being elitist and/or simply ignored. D.H. Lawrence the greatest English novelist , short story-writer is known only for his one-failure (yet another film edition of Lady C. is out apparently). Compton MacKenzie? While one appreciates what Doyle is doing here I have suspicions he is investing a small talent with greater significance than deserved. Lawrence rather brilliantly apparently used his island-hopping as the stimulus for his short-story “The Man Who Love Islands”. However, the article is a good encouragement to have another look.
Great essay
Thanks for this article. We watched the wonderful Ealing production of Whiskey Galore on DVD for the second time just before seeing this piece. I knew of Compton MacKenzie from that and also from a bound volume of the Gramophone from the early ’50’s that I dip into from time to time. I will have to find his novels: its always a treat to learn more about the world we have lost [or sometimes actively suppressed].