Major Pettigrew's Last Stand

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When I hear "character-driven novel", I usually roll my eyes. I expect navel-gazing and lots of exploration of self, and it comes a bit too close to self-help for my tastes. But Simonson gets it absolutely right in Major Pettigrew. English-Pakistani relationships take a center stage in this novel and are written in a particularly tactful and insightful way, without sugar coating the difficult colonial past of both countries and prejudices that exist up to this day. The author can turn a nice phrase. But, the Major excepted, the characters are terrible. I know so little about Mrs. Ali, which is a shame; she seemed like she must have been a hell of a lady. Though at times charming, this book mostly left me wondering what sort of a world the author imagines England to be. Her characterizations are far more disjointed than the plot, which has its flaws but at worst they’re jarring, not heinous. However, the characterizations don’t work not merely because there are only two or three bearable people in the entire novel (and this isn't a farcical satire), but mainly because they’re a convoluted mess of contexts. Major Pettigrew’s manners and standards hearken from a more gentlemanly era, yet it’s as though he’s a one-man time warp surrounded by modern incarnations of rudeness and overt materialism – his son is breathtakingly selfish and shallow, his relatives are vulgar and grasping, and the local squire has class snobbery but no sense of heritage. (And are we supposed to feel sorry for the Major because of his frightful son, or wonder at his bad parenting??)

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that the plot also involves the political and economic issues related to future land use and development. Fortunately, the writing contains just enough wry humor to keep a smile on the reader’s face. The story ends with enough excitement to make it worth reading all the way to the end. Major Pettigrew and Mrs. Ali connect emotionally in part because they share the experience of having lost a spouse, and in part because they delight in love having come around a second time. How do you think relationships formed in grief are different from those that are not?

Q&A Asked about Major Pettigrew's Last Stand

It’s one form of colonization: Some British authors have inherited their forebears’ ability to make a reader long for simple village life. No matter how small, how petty, how isolated, they manage to whip up nostalgia for something the reader never even had. The human race is all the same when it comes to romantic relations,' said the Major. 'A startling absence of impulse control combined with complete myopia Written with a delightfully dry sense of humour and the wisdom of a born storyteller, Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand explores the risks one takes when pursuing happiness in the face of family obligation and tradition.

The writing style deserves special mention. Not only the novel is never boring, but it is written with an Austen-like elegant humor which I don't come across very often in contemporary literature. Plans are, or at least were, afoot for a television production of the novel, but at present, it listed in IMDB.COM only as "in development." But as of now (March 2021) it is still a nogo, which is terribly sad. I had been very much looking forward to seeing Bill Nighy in the title role. I thoroughly enjoyed this, stiff-upper lip, English countryside, slow burn love story of two widowed people. Major Pettigrew (called Major throughout the book) in his mid 60's has just lost his brother and Jasmina Ali, a shop owner gives him a ride to the funeral. From there, they slowly form a bond over their shared loss of spouses as well as books. When retired Major Pettigrew strikes up an unlikely friendship with Mrs. Ali, the Pakistani village shopkeeper, he is drawn out of his regimented world and forced to confront the realities of life in the twenty-first century. Brought together by a shared love of literature and the loss of their respective spouses, the Major and Mrs. Ali soon find their friendship on the cusp of blossoming into something more. But although the Major was actually born in Lahore, and Mrs. Ali was born in Cambridge, village society insists on embracing him as the quintessential local and her as a permanent foreigner. The Major has always taken special pride in the village, but will he be forced to choose between the place he calls home and a future with Mrs. Ali?Maj. Pettigrew, 68 and recently widowed, is not a covetous person. He has great disdain for money, greed, gaudiness, commercialization and America. He loves his home, Rose House, in the quiet village of Edgecombe St. Mary, with its yew trees and cottages and even the nosy neighbors. (Benson’s Lucia lived in Lamb House, based on his own home, which once belonged to Henry James.) He enjoys his routines, including his walk to the local market to buy tea and other sundries. On the day his brother dies, the owner of the shop, the elegant, soft-spoken Mrs. Ali, appears at his door to collect money for the newspaper delivery. It is pretty much love at first sight, though it takes the major a while to realize it, and the length of a novel to act on it. A comforting and intelligent debut, a modern-day story of love that takes everyone—grown children, villagers, and the main participants—by surprise, as real love stories tend to do.”—Elizabeth Strout, Pulitzer Prize–winning author of Olive Kitteridge I don't believe the greatest views in the world are great because they are vast or exotic," she(Jamina) said. "I think their power comes from the knowledge that they do not change. You look at them and you know they have been the same for a thousand years."

I think it's in the garden," said Roger. The major heard a faint retching and held the phone away from his ear in disgust. There’s more than a bit of “Romeo and Juliet” here -- Mrs. Ali is Pakistani, and while some villagers pretend to have jettisoned class and ethnic snobbery, it is hopelessly woven into the fabric of their lives. When Maj. Pettigrew and Mrs. Ali begin their Sunday walks and regular afternoons reading Kipling, the neighbors take note. One of the more frustrating books I have ever read. Some good writing, but with terrible characters and dodgy plotting--an infuriating combination. A wise comedy . . . about the unexpected miracle of later-life love . . . The beauty of this engaging book is in the characters.”— O: The Oprah Magazine The Major and Mrs. Ali had arranged for a Sunday meeting at his house because she had the afternoon off and her nephew was accustomed to her being out. As the Major fussed over the tea set, he came across two cups that he and Nancy had acquired early in their marriage. It reminded him of Nancy, but he convinced himself he felt no sense of conflict in his growing attachment to Mrs. Ali. To busy himself until Mrs. Ali’s arrival, the Major began to work on the restoration of Bertie’s gun. He was dismayed to find it in very different condition than his own meticulously cleaned rifle. He knew that a slow and laborious restoration would be required to convince Ferguson that the two were a set.Major's fascination with proper tea is particularly fun. He needs fine china, just the right about of milk, and NEVER (ever) in a styrofoam cup. This is the best novel I’ve read this year and may be destined to make my top ten list. The well designed plot is pulled together with carefully crafted writing. I’m embarrassed to be so enthusiastic about it because it is actually a romance novel which is a genre I usually steer clear of. It is a story of finding love at any age, and the importance of discovering common ground and seeing beyond our petty differences. This book touches on so many aspects of life that there seems to be something for just about anyone – obligation, loyalty, integrity, grief, loss, jealousy, and love. Parent-child relationships and differences in the generations are explored in a humorous, and sometimes poignant, manner. It gently skewers British small-town social conventions and American cultural insensitivities. My only complaint is that the ending is unexpectedly quite different in tone and pace than the rest of the book. Whoever read my Olive Kitteridge rant, probably knows that I am not much into reading books about old people. Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, however, proves that any book about any subject matter or any type of characters can become a great experience if written well.

Mrs. Ali, English, born and bred, an obvious outsider has a lot to deal with in the village. How is she acting, how is she talking, and most importantly, who is she talking to? She's a woman that lives by the values closely aligned to her culture, yet Major and her grow fond of one another in an organic way, worthy of exploring. Major's son, Roger, a sort of hodge-podge jerk really gets under his skin. He is always too nice, too kind, too proper, too decent. He is compassionate and lovely. When he finally starts to finally stand up for himself, I applauded him quietly. Much of the novel focuses on the notion of “otherness.” Who is considered an outsider in Edgecombe St. Mary? How are the various village outsiders treated differently? Gradually, he comes to realize that there is indeed something very special about her, and maybe, just maybe...well, you get the picture.United by their love of Kipling and their lingering bereavement of their departed spouses, Major Pettigrew (who was born in Lahore), and Mrs. Ali (who was born in Cambridge), begin to form a surprising friendship, only to be thrown off by the subtle prejudices of the townspeople, the pressures asserted by Mrs. Ali’s ultra-religious nephew (who has taken over the shop since her husband’s demise), and the frenetic social-climbing of Major Pettigrew’s son. Mrs. Ali (Jasmina) – A Pakistani shopkeeper, a bit of an oddity in the small village of Edgecombe St. Mary, smart, kind,