Representing the Male: Masculinity, Genre and Social Context in Six South Wales Novels

REPRESENTING THE MALE

Gender Studies in Wales

Astudiaethau Rhywedd yng Nghymru

Series Editors

Dawn Mannay, Cardiff University

Rhiannon Marks, Cardiff University

Diana Wallace, University of South Wales

Stephanie Ward, Cardiff University

Sian Rhiannon Williams, Cardiff Metropolitan University

Series Advisory Board

Jane Aaron, University of South Wales

Deirdre Beddoe, Emeritus Professor

Paul Chaney, Cardiff University

Mihangel Morgan, Aberystwyth University

Paul O’Leary, Aberystwyth University

Teresa Rees, Cardiff University

The aim of this series is to fill a current gap in knowledge. As a number of historians, sociologists and literary critics have for some time been pointing out, there is a dearth of published research on the characteristics and effects of gender difference in Wales, both as it affected lives in the past and as it continues to shape present-day experience. Socially constructed concepts of masculine and feminine difference influence every aspect of individuals’ lives; experiences in employment, in education, in culture and politics, as well as in personal relationships, are all shaped by them. Ethnic identities are also gendered; a country’s history affects its concepts of gender difference so that what is seen as appropriately ‘masculine’ or ‘feminine’ varies within different cultures. What is needed in the Welsh context is more detailed research on the ways in which gender difference has operated and continues to operate within Welsh societies. Accordingly, this interdisciplinary and bilingual series of volumes on Gender Studies in Wales, authored by academics who are leaders in their particular fields of study, is designed to explore the diverse aspects of male and female identities in Wales, past and present. The series is bilingual, in the sense that some of its intended volumes will be in Welsh and some in English.

REPRESENTING THE MALE

Masculinity, Genre and Social Context

in Six South Wales Novels

John Perrott Jenkins

© John Perrott Jenkins, 2021

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any material form (including photocopying or storing it in any medium by electronic means and whether or not transiently or incidentally to some other use of this publication) without the written permission of the copyright owner except in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act. Applications for the copyright owner’s written permission to reproduce any part of this publication should be addressed to the University of Wales Press, University of Wales Registry, King Edward VII Avenue, Cardiff CF10 3NS.

www.uwp.co.uk

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 9781786837783

eISBN: 9781786837806

The right of John Perrott Jenkins to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 79 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

The publisher acknowledges the financial support of the Books Council of Wales.

The publisher has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for any external or third-party internet websites referred to in this book, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Cover image: J. H. Jenkins at Windsor Colliery, Abertridwr, 1949. © Popperfoto/Getty Images.

For Steph

and in memory of my mother and father

Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

1Dominant, Residual, Emergent: Forms and Formations of Male Identity in Gwyn Jones’s Times Like These (1936)

2Genre and the Tribulations of Masculinity in Lewis Jones’s Cwmardy (1937)

3Investigating Genre and Gender in Menna Gallie’s Strike for a Kingdom (1959)

4Reading Hector Bebb: Masculinity and Mythic Paradigms in So Long, Hector Bebb (1970)

5Patriarchy, Power and Politics: Masculinities in Dark Edge (1997) and Until Our Blood is Dry (2014)

Conclusion

Notes

Bibliography

Acknowledgements

I am indebted to Professor Diana Wallace for suggesting that I write this book; to Dr Rob Gossedge who guided it through as a doctoral thesis, on which it is based; to Dr Marina Williamson for being a critical but constructive reader and adviser from the start of this project; to Professor Angela V. John for generously providing background information on Menna Gallie; to Dr Aidan Byrne who so kindly offered me access to his research at an early stage of my own into anglophone Welsh writing, and for friendship thereafter; to Professors Katie Gramich and Jane Aaron for their help and support; and to Lesley Berry for her gift of a copy of an unpublished essay by her father.

I should like to thank Lawrence and Wishart for permission to quote from Lewis Jones’s Cwmardy (1937); Honno from Menna Gallie’s Strike for a Kingdom (1959); Parthian from Ron Berry’s So Long, Hector Bebb (1970) and Kit Habianic’s Until Our Blood is Dry (2014); and Seren from Roger Granelli’s Dark Edge (1997). All efforts have been made, without success, to locate the copyright holders of Gwyn Jones’s Times Like These, and I encourage them to contact me.

I am enormously grateful to the staff at the National Library of Wales, Aberystwyth, for their patience, efficiency and kindness during my work there on the archives of Gwyn Jones and Menna Gallie, and to the staff at both the University of Swansea Library and the Miners’ Library for their help in gaining quick access to the Ron Berry archive and invaluable material on Lewis Jones respectively.

Further thanks are due to Sian Rhiannon Williams, and to Llion Wigley, Bethan Phillips, Siân Chapman, Dafydd Jones and Bronwen Swain at the University of Wales Press, whose guidance, help, patience and advice have been truly invaluable. I am also grateful to UWP for permission to include chapters on So Long, Hector Bebb and Strike for a Kingdom that have appeared in shorter forms in Fight and Flight: Essays on Ron Berry, ed. Georgia Burdett and Sarah Morse (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2020), and the International Journal of Welsh Writing in English (vol. 7. Issue 1. 2020) respectively.

Sarah Chase found the time to read the chapter on So Long, Hector Bebb with her usual perspicacity, and suggested several improvements to style. Caitlin Abbey’s close reading of an early draft of the Introduction drew attention to those areas needing attention. Anne and John Phillips, and Bridget Baker were instrumental in making the front cover available for reproduction, and Kate Abbey was always there with sound editorial advice. Grateful thanks to them.

And Steph. What can I say? Thanks and thanks again don’t begin to cover it.

Cultures which exult in the belief in the intrinsic maleness of such values as control, indifference to feelings and a ruthless pursuit of power produce a psychopathic masculinity from which not merely women but many men turn away.

(Anthony Clare, On Men: Masculinity in Crisis)

[F]orms and genres may have long and fascinating histories, not as static and separate but entwined, interacting, conflicting, contesting, playing off against each other, mixing in unpredictable combinations, protean in energy, moving quickly between extremes from pathos to farce, intensity to burlesque, endlessly fertile as narrative, theatricality, and performance.

(John Docker, Postmodernism and Popular Culture: A Cultural History)

The creative liberty of writers from peripheral countries is not given to them straight away: they earn it as the result of struggles whose reality is denied in the name of literary universality and equality of all writers as creative artists, by inventing complex strategies that profoundly alter the universe of literary possibilities.

(Pascale Casanova, The World Republic of Letters, trans. M. B. Devoise)

Introduction

Masculinity was once regarded as a settled state of being, a nexus of attributes supposedly present in Men that made them different from Women.1 It was taken to be an arrangement ‘Ordained by Nature’.2 ‘Real’ men, those engaged in physically taxing and dangerous activities like miners, boxers and soldiers, brought the frisson of danger, strength and an edgy presence to burnish further the allure of masculinity and justify its claim to power. Within the structural arrangement of patriarchal capitalism and its consequent gender asymmetry such as operated in the industrial south Wales Valleys, men dominated public space, and created and organised the means of production, distribution and exchange, while women managed the household economy and brought up the children. It was, as the philosopher and gender theorist Rosi Braidotti states, a ‘falsely universalistic model, which results in reducing difference to pejoration, disqualification and exclusion’.3 The historian Deirdre Beddoe had already observed in 1986 that such ‘differences’ made Welsh women ‘culturally invisible’.4 Welsh men, however, suffered no such handicap. Beddoe records that there was, given their different gender practices from women, a specific image of Welsh men – or, rather, Welshmen, for they appeared to be indistinguishable from each other. Collectivised into one homogeneous group, they were coal miners, rugby players and male voice choristers, instantly identifiable as ‘male and mass, [and …] macho’.5 They were patriarchal figures exhibiting an unqualified masculine presence. Post-structural feminism and post-industrial decline in Wales have made more visible the hitherto marginalised female presence, but reappraisals of Valleys’ fiction challenging this universalistic image of patriarchal empowerment have been less forthcoming.6 This book subjects six Valleys’ novels – Times Like These (1936), Cwmardy (1937), Strike for a Kingdom (1959), So Long, Hector Bebb (1970), Dark Edge (1997) and Until Our Blood is Dry (2014) – to gender-specific reading to argue that within the prevailing assumptions of ‘masculinity’, it was not only women who were subjected to ‘pejoration, disqualification and exclusion’.

The expressive nature of fiction offers an ideal route into examining how cultural influences shaped the representation of male characters in these novels. Focusing on the complex interaction between individual subjects and their phenomenological context, fiction offers an arena where the cultural practices and the individual consequences of performing what is considered normative masculinity can be identified, inspected and discussed from a variety of theoretical perspectives. As I propose to demonstrate, when examined through a gender-specific prism, these novels challenge the image that the coordinates of Valleys’ masculinity were uniform and comprehensive, while acknowledging that such coordinates had enormous signifying power during the Valleys’ industrial century. When subjected to individual, gender- specific examination, the universal image of ‘corporate ranks’ of Welshmen,7 stable in their identity, hegemonic in their patriarchy, and collectively coded by their male-voice choir blazers and rugby-club kit breaks ranks and retreats. The image of the ‘heroic’ miner served the material demands of patriarchal industrial capitalism and gave the miner in return the small compensation of status, but the image of a transcendent masculinity, generated and promoted by this cultural system, was as unrepresentative of the individual self as it was of the mythic homogenised group. Collectively, the structure of Valleys’ industrial capitalism consigned men to labour as expendable wage-slaves, and women to lives of domestic drudgery. Individually, the stable, dominant masculinity expected of the model patriarch imposed an array of desirable but rarely achievable or even consistently identifiable masculine signifiers. In the words of Stephen Whitehead, they often led to the ‘pathological and emotionally damaging consequence of striving to live out [an] unattainable masculine behaviour’.8

Among the gender theorists whose ideas have greatly influenced the chapters that follow, the work of two, R. W. Connell and Judith Butler, requires some explanation. As a historian whose work melded with the sociology of gender, R. W. Connell was intrigued by how hierarchical power systems such as patriarchy come into being and are sustained through practice. It was from his study of Antonio Gramsci, an Italian Marxist imprisoned by Mussolini for his political sympathies, that Connell evolved his influential theory of the power structures that enabled gender asymmetry. In his Prison Notebooks, Gramsci observed that a power system, a hegemony, comes into being when

a perfect formulation of directives is matched by a perfect arrangement of the organisms of execution and verification, and by a perfect preparation of the ‘spontaneous’ consent of the masses who must ‘live’ those directives, modifying their own habits, their own will, their own convictions to conform with those directives and with the objects which they propose to achieve.9

Adapting Gramsci’s theory that patriarchal capitalism is an instrument of political control to his own theory that power structures, not nature, determine gendered identity, Connell postulated a form of gendering in Gender and Power (1987) that he called ‘hegemonic masculinity’. Hegemonic masculinity, he argued, is the most privileged form of masculinity within a patriarchal system, and is always constructed ‘in relation to various subordinated masculinities as well as in relation to women’.10 Because it is a ‘perfect formulation of directives’ it acquires what Connell describes as ‘a social ascendancy achieved in a play of social forces that extends beyond contests of brute power into the organisation of private life and cultural processes’.11 Further developing Gramsci’s arguments into how a power model like patriarchy maintains control, Connell argued that, while this model was not posited on the practice of violence to sustain order, it legalised it as a tactic whenever it was considered necessary – as industrial conflict in these novels clearly verifies. Six years after Gender and Power, Connell’s landmark Masculinities (1993), with its provocatively pluralised title, further defined hegemonic masculinity as ‘the accepted answer to the problem of the legitimacy of patriarchy which guarantees (or is taken to guarantee) the dominant position of men and the subordination of women’.12

The practices and problematics that emerge from this conjunction of patriarchy and hegemonic masculinity are evident in each of the novels examined. Their mutually beneficial relationship has led to their being sometimes regarded as synonyms for the practice of male power. However, in these novels they may be read as having a symbiotic relationship that facilitated a power structure, rather than being alternative expressions of the same thing. Stephen Whitehead, for instance, suggests that while hegemonic masculinity lubricates the functioning of patriarchy, it differs from its institutional practice ‘in that there is less of an essentialist assumption about the outcome’.13 Patriarchy, Whitehead observes, operates as a structural mode of social organisation posited on gender binaries, where, broadly speaking, men are defined as instrumental, rational and competitive, and females as expressive, emotional and nurturing. Given patriarchy’s structural gender asymmetry, it is a monolithic model that leaves relatively little room for diversity. Hegemonic masculinity, by contrast, is more diffusely defined. It is no more than the ‘currently accepted strategy’ of dominant masculinity,14 and works by excluding those men whose masculinity falls short because it deviates from whatever the established norm is. The value of hegemonic masculinity to patriarchy consists in its flexibility, so that it may modify over time and be expressed in different forms and in different contexts, from the presence in these novels of a Machiavellian Adam Smith-Tudor in the boardroom to the boxer Hector Bebb in the ring.15 Hegemonic masculinity, then, is evident in performance while it also eludes simple exposition; it is empty of clarity but simultaneously vibrant with significance. Through its protean nature, it at once demotes those men who do not or cannot conform to its ineffable presence at the same time that it offers a conceptual justification of the patriarchal male as the privileged gender.

Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble (1990) further developed and underlined the non-essentialist, power-influenced nature of gendered identities in her argument that gender categories emerge through performativity. For Butler, identity is constructed through a series of performances so that the gendered self ‘has no ontological status apart from the various acts which constitute its reality’.16 Given the narrow paradigms of acceptable male definition in Valleys mining culture, the series of performances available was necessarily limited. In the novels I examine, the tensions, both individually and socially, generated by these prescribed roles are externalised by social upheaval in the form of strikes, and internalised in the damaged formation of miners’ subjectivity. Miners in these novels are required to perform, negotiate, resist or strive to reconcile the irreconcilable demands of a hierarchical power system where, within a model of industrial capitalism, they are accorded subordinate status at work, while in theory they are patriarchally sanctioned principals at home. Ideologically subservient, and ‘feminised’, in one context, they are ideologically dominant and ‘masculinised’ in another. When represented in fiction, and read from a gender-focused perspective, rather than standing as exemplars of a stable patriarchy, figures like Jim and Len Roberts in Cwmardy (1937), D. J. Williams in Strike for a Kingdom (1959) and Gwyn Pritchard in Until Our Blood is Dry (2014) become divided selves, unable to achieve an experiential reconciliation between the personal and public roles they are committed to by the power systems that seek to shape them.

One development arising from the growth of gender studies is that masculinity, as John Tosh states, can no longer ‘confidently be located in specifically masculine contexts of work, family and homosocial networks. Its discursive traces are found in every area of culture and society.’17 However, it is principally through these three channels – work, family and homosocial bonding – that mining masculinity is exhibited in these novels as conforming to or diverging from certain culturally formulated norms. Individually and collectively they reveal how a model of masculinity satisfying the requirements of industrial capital was imposed on the Valleys and acquired a self-generating momentum. Within this model, the ideals of machismo were nurtured, disseminated and mythologised as the ideal. Illustrated principally through bodily practice requiring strength, courage, skill and endurance, mining masculinity was recognisable in Wales through a range of associated signifiers such as contact sport, especially boxing and rugby, homosocial bonding and dominance of public space.18 In Gramscian terms, so deeply internalised do such cultural processes become that they acquire the status of normalised standards of behaviour and value to which men should aspire.

The story of the Valleys, of their literature and masculinities is a story of a hybrid industrial society subjected to immense cultural upheaval,19 and discontinuous with the more settled gwerin culture of rural mid-Wales.20 As M. Wynn Thomas explains, the Valleys are ‘a unique society’, producing a literature connecting ‘the writers’ common experience […] of belonging to a place apart’, neither recognisably English nor traditionally Welsh.21 It is out of this ‘unique society’ that certain practices and forms of gender definition become distinctive to this particular culture, so that as a consequence ‘different types of men and women and different types of masculinity and femininity emerge. There is the possibility of considerable variation depending on people’s local circumstances and the way these interact with national and global movements’.22 Topographically separated from each other, culturally discontinuous from the rest of Wales but united by a single and dangerous industry, socially hybridised but strongly communal, rich in coal but economically exploited, the Valleys therefore constitute a fascinating site, a crucible for examining through its literature the effect which a socio-economic model – patriarchal industrial capitalism23 – predicated on the concept of the fixed identity of the hegemonic male, has had upon masculinity as a culturally defined construct. As Steffan Courtney-Morgan observes, within the parameters of Valleys’ masculinity, ‘the experience of emotionality and passivity, nurturing and intimacy was made problematic because of their association with essentially feminine characteristics.’24 Writing of the restrictions such a structure imposes on the possibilities of autonomous selfhood, and locating it within a system of socio-economic practice, Rosi Braidotti points out that:

no freedom is possible within capitalism because the axiom of money and profit knows no limit. The system functions axiomatically, which means […] that it refuses to provide definitions of the terms it works with, but prefers to order certain domains into existence with the addition or subtraction of certain norms or commands.25

It is through a ‘domain’ of industrial capitalism that a ‘norm’ of masculinity as an expression of power in whatever context shaped the representation of male characters in the six novels comprising this study.26

Four chapters of this book subject a single novel, and the fifth chapter two related novels, to a careful gender-specific scrutiny of its male characters. The first chapter examines masculine representation in Gwyn Jones’s Times Like These (1936), a text that has not fared well when read as an industrial novel, perhaps because Lewis Jones’s more dynamic Cwmardy was published just a year later. Times Like These has enjoyed frequent but brief appearances in surveys of the Welsh industrial novel, but it has never been published in Wales, and although Raymond Williams and Glyn Jones were enthusiasts,27 critical comment has been more cautious in its judgements. James A. Davies gives credit where he feels it is due, but is perhaps more direct than most in feeling that Gwyn Jones has not ‘worked out in fictional terms a coherent relationship with what is, for him, emotionally charged material’.28 My chapter does not read Times Like These principally as an industrial novel focusing on labour relations and industrial conflict, but as a study of masculinities performing within and attempting to accommodate differing tranches of social and cultural process. From this different perspective it becomes a novel where Stephen Knight’s guardedly critical comment that Jones’s apparently dispassionate approach to his subject is ‘sympathetic but crucially distant’ becomes less a critique of its emotional detachment than a comment on its evaluative method.29 Accepting that Gwyn Jones, as the middle-class university lecturer son of a working-class striking miner, is himself personally implicated in the social dynamics the novel studies, I suggest that his novel’s imaginative thrust emerges from what Raymond Williams calls ‘the complex interrelations between movements and tendencies both within and beyond a specific and effective dominance’.30 More specifically, the chapter locates masculinity in the novel within the frame of three broad categories of social process that Williams calls the ‘dominant’, the ‘residual’ and the ‘emergent’. Williams argues that the last two ‘in any real process, and at any moment in the process, are significant both in themselves and in what they reveal of the characteristics of the dominant’.31 The chapter focuses principally on four representations of masculinity, each of which is drawn from a differing cultural repository, three of which take the novel outside an industrial context. The ‘dominant’ masculinity is practised through a repertoire of performative patriarchal rituals in which the mine owner, Sir Hugh Thomas, is a perversion of the Victorian ‘man of character’, and his henchmen Webber and Henshaw expose how their form of capitalism provides the opportunity for the systemic degradation of the miners they employ. Two ‘residual’ forms of masculinity, that is masculinities ‘formed in the past, but […] still active in the cultural process’,32 are represented collectively and singly in the pastoral practices of the miners whose values interfuse with recognisable elements of eighteenth-century neo-Augustan communal civility represented through the figure of Denis Shelton. Through them, the grasping forms of industrial capitalism embodied in the dominant characters are critiqued through juxtaposition with the communal pastoral activities of the miners and the more genteel form of patriarchy embodied in Shelton. In the culturally liminal figure of Broddam, an upwardly mobile businessman, the novel constructs a figure engaged in the ‘emergent’ reformulation and gentrification of his identity. Broddam embodies a figure that recurs in varying forms throughout Valleys’ fiction, and through him Times Like These examines the challenges of identity facing the ambitious Anglo-Welshman. In his ‘process of becoming’ within a class-based and capitalist schema,33 Broddam is anxious to acquire the signifiers of the English ‘gentleman’, but is equally anxious to avoid humiliating faux pas. His Monmouthshire background is significant here for, like Gwyn Jones, he was born in what Katie Gramich describes as, ‘a notoriously ambivalent county’,34 neither Welsh nor English at the time. The chapter argues that in Broddam the novel addresses the problematic of the hybridised self, a figure who runs the risk of emerging as a form of colonised ‘mimic-man’, a shadow figure lacking the substance of an interior landscape.35 Broddam is not read as a fictionalised doppelgänger of Jones, but he arguably represents a study of the possible trajectory and problematics facing a cultural and class hybrid, of which Jones himself was an example.

Lewis Jones’s Cwmardy and We Live (1937 and 1939) have been read together as ‘a major Marxist contribution from Britain to international industrial fiction’.36 Chapter 2 approaches Cwmardy as generically different from We Live, which tells ‘the larger story’ of ‘community radicalisation’.37 When read less as a doctrinaire text, and with the focus on the gendering of its two principal characters, I argue that the extraordinary achievement of Cwmardy lies in its powerfully humanistic critique of how Len and Jim Roberts are, to borrow Rosi Braidotti’s graphic terms, ‘stuck with the burden of self-perpetuating Being’.38 Locked into the restrictive patterns of male behaviour required of industrial capitalism – where Jim is confined to self-expression through his ‘magnificent body’ (Cwmardy, p. 11), and the temperamentally passive Len is divided between two incompatible roles – they are offered no possibility of creative self-development but simply a reiterative enactment of limiting, predetermined roles. Through their construction, the novel reveals the paradox of a capitalist system posited on individual autonomy