Americans tend to think of World War II in terms of the attack on Pearl Harbor, which was followed by the battles we undertook on two fronts. But while our attacks on Germany and Japan occurred far from home, England endured daily bombings, and her people lived in constant fear of invasion. They endured long lines for items we take for granted, and often had to make do with a fraction of what is available today. They left home and returned to piles of rubble. Husbands spent their evenings in the Home Guard or the ARP or on Fire Watch. Wives worked in the war industries. Parents sent their children off to live outside the big cities. While much fiction covers this era (C.S. Lewis’ Narnia stories, and the recent novels Blackout and All Clear by Connie Willis stand as obvious examples), a British TV scif-fi/comedy show helped me better comprehend all that the English endured during WWII.
In “Goodnight Sweetheart,” Gary Sparrow works in the present day as a television repairman. On one of his calls, he wanders down an unfamiliar street, and emerges in a rundown area of London. In The Royal Oak pub, he meets Phoebe and her father. The tape on the windows, the décor, the landlord’s intense questioning of his appearance, the locals’ conversation, and the more formal dress suggest an earlier era. He decides he must be dreaming, and opts to play along with his subconscious mind. Passing himself off as a spy and a singer/songwriter, he entertains customers with songs by future artists such as the Beatles and Elton John. He sells his modern pen because he lacks the tuppence farthing for a beer. Then alarms sound, and he must hurry into the pub’s cellar before the German planes arrive and start dropping bombs.
As the series progresses, he wonders why he keeps returning to 1940, knowing he could be killed at any time. His wife Yvonne is ambitious, and wants him to commit to elevating their social and financial status. But something always holds Gary back: he refuses to buy a suit when interviewing for a promotion; he spends substantial sums on 1940s books and paraphernalia; he bores her and everyone else with the minutia of what Londoners endured during the Blitz. Only his friend Ron puts all the clues together and believes that Gary can go back in time. To everyone else, he is a loveable loser: unskilled for anything but the job he has trained for, and lacking in the aptitude and drive necessary to succeed in life.
But Gary has all he needs and more. Armed with his expert knowledge on daily occurrences, he prevents Phoebe from dying during an air raid. With his singing and piano-playing, he lifts the spirits of those whom the constant bombing has dulled. He can pop into the past with bars of chocolate, a pair of tights, or even a few bananas; amid rationing and constant shortages, he breathes life into a community struggling for existence. Eventually, he falls in love with Phoebe, which further strains his commitment to the present. This forces him to live a double-life that complicates his relationship with Yvonne and costs him his job. But he overcomes the hurdles he faces with inventiveness and ingenuity. Partly this is due to the claustrophobia and fear that makes his enduring constant bombings impossible. Partly this is because he needs access to items in the modern world to continue playing the role he has assumed in the 1940s. But also, he never settles for one era because, as with Yvonne and Phoebe, he loves them both too much to forsake either.
I’m not affirming Gary’s life choices, but like him, I often feel as though others must view me as a “loveable loser,” someone who dares to dream, yet lacks the aptitude and the determination to succeed. My office is cluttered with manuscripts I never finished or grew tired of submitting. Worse, there are the novels that, for one reason or another, I never seriously submitted for publication. I’ve often spent too much time rewriting, and not enough on finishing and selling. Some could claim that the time I devote to this blog will only delay my eventual publication. (They may be right). Everyday I believe I journey closer toward my dream of publication, yet am confronted by the reality that, as yet, I have nothing to show for my efforts.
One day, I hope to demonstrate that I am better than Roger Zelazny’s characters Drax and Dran, who argue over the type of future they hope to create, but never build it. I hope that every day I opt for the achievable, like Number One in “The Cage,” rather than adopting Mr. Spock and Dr. Phil’s wait-and-see attitude. Until I achieve my goals, I hope this blog inspires others for whom life seems forever in flux. After all, if Horace Rumpole would believe the best of me, than I want to believe in (and encourage) all who strive to achieve the seeming impossible.
WWII and the Blitz threw life into chaos. “Goodnight Sweetheart” reminds us how bleak those times could seem. But as Gary constantly promises Phoebe, things will be better in the future. "The world will be a different place, where you will be able to live as you desire." Your life may be in flux. But that is only because you are working toward a better tomorrow.
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