I really enjoyed this book. Within a few pages it created a sense of anticipation about the direction of three young lives, which I looked forward to resolving as I read.
It begins with a scene in a graveyard in the late summer of 1946 where three young women — Hester ‘Hetty’ Fallowes, Lieselotte Klein and Una Vane – have gathered following the news that morning that each of them has been awarded a state scholarship, an important award because it finances their place at university, which they can now take up.
Hetty is to read Literature at London, Una is off to Cambridge to read Physics and Lieselotte is to Cambridge as well to read Modern Languages. As the girls lounge among the gravestones, their feet on a tomb, Gardam gradually introduces us to their lives.
We learn that Hetty’s father is a former intellectual, ruined by the effects of World War 1 and not suitable for much besides gravedigging; her mother is an anxious individual, constrained by her husband’s lack of ambition, and one of those characters that sets the restrictive moral tenor for the small town in which they all live. Una’s father was a doctor who committed suicide when Una was young so Una’s mother tries to make ends meet running a hair salon. Lieselotte is a Jew from Hamburg, who arrived in England in 1939 ‘on the last train full of refugee children, the Kindertransport’, and as a consequence has no parents. She has lived with a childless Quaker couple for six years after losing her papers that would have seen her united with a relative.
The book follows the group in the couple of months before they begin university in October: Hetty takes herself off to the Lakes District to study, Una bicycles around the countryside with her friend Ray, and Lieselotte vanishes to London following a bureaucratic breakthrough in finding her relative.
What I liked about this book was the strong, feisty, multi-dimensional characters –- from the three young women to their parents, and other adults in their lives. In the cases of Hetty and Una, I enjoyed the exploration of the relationships each had with their mothers — a type of exploration I haven’t really encountered before in much fiction. Mothers tend to be characterized as foils, as others, as objects to be defined against, or just plain perfect. But in The Flight of the Maidens this bond is examined, looking at how it’s maintained and valued despite its imperfections.