There’s something in the story and atmosphere of Hartley’s novel that reminds me of Ian McEwan’s Atonement (it must be McEwan’s novel that’s similar to The Go-Between, and not the other way around, but I read Atonement earlier than this): it’s an ominous, cruel, and fateful atmosphere.
At the beginning of the novel, Leo, a man in his sixties, comes across an old journal and other mementos of the past he had carefully hidden from himself throughout his life because confronting them would have been too painful. However, the moment of truth is finally here, so Leo starts out on his journey to the past.
The main story is set in the summer of 1900, when one hot day follows another. And weather is important here – there’s something menacing in the long heatwave of the summer, as it creates an atmosphere full of anticipation, an atmosphere with an oppressive and hypnotic force. You know the heatwave will end sooner or later, but while it lasts, it feels as if time has stopped, as if nothing could lead to consequences, and this encourages reckless, thoughtless behavior.
Leo, aged 13, spends the month of July vacationing at the pleasant country estate of one of his rich classmates of noble descent, and somehow he ends up being the messenger between the young lady of the house and two men who want to win her heart and hand. Leo dutifully carries the messages to and fro among the three adults, and for a long while he doesn’t suspect the significance of the verbal messages and written notes – and even when he learns about it, he still doesn’t grasp the real seriousness of the situation.
Which is, of course, understandable – England in 1900 was probably a very innocent world (or rather: a world full of pretended innocence), and Leo at the age of 13 has absolutely no idea what passions, feelings, and hidden motivations guide the mysterious adults. Leo is still just an average little boy (probably dreamier than average, and with perhaps more propensity to embellish the truth than the average boy), whose favorite pastimes include sliding down on haystacks and looking for treasures in the garbage pile. His mind is usually not on girls – and even when it is, he only thinks about them in a purely abstract sense, without the idea of bodily contact, and he finds the idea of lovemaking simultaneously boring and nauseating.
It’s hardly a surprise then that all this secret messaging leads to nothing good, but the process leading up to this nothing good is much more interesting than the events themselves, and the most interesting here is the behavior of the characters: their secretive and pretentious ways, the way they use, abuse, and manipulate each other without qualms, and the way they cheerfully ignore the possible consequences of their actions. It’s an amoral bunch, here (with one exception – who, naturally, suffers the direst consequences). And even if Leo is supposedly just an innocent child and isn’t much to blame, still – even he is amoral, frighteningly emotionless, and rather cruel – in a way children can be.
And seeing the events from Leo’s immature, naïve, childishly selfish perspective is strangely unsettling. Sure, there’s the usual dramatic irony at work here, and it’s upsetting that the reader knows and understands a lot of things better than the narrator. But it’s unsettling for me mainly because Leo as an adult is just as incapable of understanding the significance and the real meaning of events as he was at the age of 13.
Like I said, the story is told by the old Leo, not the 13-year-old one, and he interprets the events of his childhood as an adult now. We might assume that perhaps there’s a spark of empathy in him now, and that perhaps he’ll be able to understand things more now. But no. He just doesn’t get it. And reading his clueless recounting of the events I feel like crying tears of rage and desperation, and my heart breaks.