Sarah Brown’s initials are the same as Stella
Benson’s; she is an autobiographical character: much of what is said in Living Alone by and about Sarah and her life applies to Stella Benson herself, as can
be confirmed by reading her biography.
The same applies to the House of Living Alone
where Sarah Brown goes to live; Stella Benson knew it well.
Sarah Brown
Sarah Brown is the third main character of interest
in Living Alone.
She is a young woman who lives in London and is a member of
the charity committee.
Her health is not good and her life is not
satisfactory. Just like the witch Angela, she often goes short of food for lack
of money and has to settle for scratch meals.
Sarah Brown is not very good at dealing with
the real world; she says this about herself:
“You don't happen to know of
a suitable job. I can't cook, and if I sew a button on it comes off quicker
than if I hadn't.“
She has written a little
poetry and means to write a book some day... some people have a creative
temperament without having much creative ability. This does not apply to Stella
Benson!
Sarah Brown accepts that magic exists. She
can see it in action but cannot practise it herself. She has always wished to
be friends with a witch. People who can’t operate very well in the real world
or deal very well with real people often look for magical - or other - alternatives:
“She
was not really used to being alive at all, and that is what made her take to
magic so kindly.”
This turning to the world of
magic can be dangerous. People who seek salvation may be lured to destruction.
Angela
the Witch supplies Sarah with sandwiches that, judging by the effects, were
enchanted:
“Sarah Brown would have been very susceptible
to such a drug; her mind was always on the brink of innocent intoxication…
Therefore, I think, she was a predestined victim of magic, and it seems
unlikely that the witch should have missed such an opportunity to dispense
spells.”
Sarah accepts Angela’s invitation to come and
live in the House of Living Alone. This could be the best thing she has ever
done, or it could be the worst.
The House of Living Alone
The House of Living Alone is for people who
value independence and solitude above all else, even comfort
and companionship:
“Men
and women...who like to be a little uncomfortable and quite uncared for, who
love to live from week to week without speaking, except to confide their
destinations to bus-conductors... who do not know how to cook yet hate to be
cooked for, will here find the thing they have desired, and something else as
well.”
It is a sort of college and nursing home
combined; it is a religious establishment for people who worship unknown gods;
it is a refuge for people who just want to be left alone:
“It is meant to provide for
the needs of those who dislike hotels, clubs, settlements, hostels,
boarding-houses, and lodgings only less than their own homes;
who detest landladies, waiters, husbands and wives, charwomen, and all forms of
lookers after.”
There are no modern facilities such as hot
water, electric light or a telephone in the House of Living Alone.
It is the only place in the world of its kind.
The terrible nights of Living Alone
After some bad experiences
in the real world of real people, Sarah Brown climbs the stairs to her room in
the House of Living Alone.
She is ill and in pain, and in great need of
comfort.
The
following quotation speaks for itself. There can be few better descriptions of
the desolation that comes when we are so ill or unhappy that we would give
anything to have someone, not just anyone but the right person, there for us.
Maybe there should be some sort of warning, as it is extremely depressing to
read:
“These
are the terrible nights of Living Alone, when you have fever and sometimes
think that your beloved stands in the doorway to bring you comfort, and
sometimes think that you have no beloved, and that there is no one left in all
the world, no word, no warmth, nor ever a kindly candle to be lighted in that
spotted darkness that walls up your hot sight.
Again
on those nights you dream that you have already done those genial things your
body cries for, or perhaps That Other has done them. The fire is built and
alight at last, a cup of something cool and beautifully sour stands ready to
your hand, you can hear the delicious rattle of china on a tray in the
passage—someone coming with food you would love to look at, and presently
perhaps to eat ... when you feel better.
But
again and again your eyes open on the cold dumb darkness, and there is nothing
but the wind and strange sinister emptiness creaking on the stair.”
Despite
the above despairing outcry, which sounds rather like a description of Hell, Stella
Benson goes on to say:
“These
are the terrible nights of Living Alone, yet no real lover of that house and of
that state would ever exchange one of those haunted and desert nights for a
night for a night spent watched, in soft warm
places.”
So
what are the residents getting that makes it all worthwhile and a much better
option than normal life, and do they have any choice?
Are they privileged or
are they prisoners?
More articles to come
Living Alone is inspiring a lot of
commentary. There is more to come about Sarah Brown and the House for which
the best place is the impending article about Stella Benson and her life, and there
is something to say about the effect that Richard the Wizard and Angela the
Witch have on the lives of the people around them.
