The Golden Notebook

Anna and Molly are women who have been disappointed both by their political idealism and in their personal relationships—the two distinct poles of experience are related, in that their political beliefs have informed how they live their personal lives. In 1950s Cold War England, the idea that grown women should live alone, raising children without husbands, is a novel one. Still, they both use the term “free women” with irony: They are not free from their personal desires to have intimate relationships with men, nor are they free from their responsibilities as mothers. As Anna remarks, “They”—friends, acquaintances, people in general—“still define us in terms of relationships with men, even the best of them” (4). To which Molly responds, “Well, we do, don’t we?” (4). That is, even though the women try to break from the conventional social mores of the time, they are not quite able to do so—even in their own understanding of themselves.

Anna also notes that “for a lot of people you [Molly] and I are practically interchangeable” (4). This is due, she thinks, to the fact that they both refuse to marry just for the sake of their children, that they live self-sufficient lives. Their iconoclasm, ironically, elides their individuality. Physically and temperamentally speaking, Anna and Molly are, in fact, opposites: Anna is small, serious, and dark-haired, while Molly has a larger frame, a ready laugh, and abundant blonde hair. They are both creative types: Anna has written a novel, The Frontiers of War, while Molly dabbles in the theater. Their political disillusionment springs from similar roots: The revelations about the abuses committed by Stalin and the Soviet Union have damaged their idealism, their dreams for a better, more equitable future. They are, ideologically speaking, at loose ends.

This is reflected in Molly’s critical views of England, as well as in Tommy’s and Richard’s attitudes toward the two women. Molly returns to England after an extended trip through Europe, and she is disheartened by what she considers stereotypical English postures: “It’s coming back to England again—everybody so shut up, taking offence. I feel like breaking out and shouting and screaming whenever I set foot on this frozen soil” (13). Later, she admits that “Coming back this time was worse than usual” (46). England stifles Molly, and by extension, Anna, further alienating them from traditional society. Ironically, shortly after this outburst, Molly buys some strawberries from a street vendor so that she and Anna can enjoy strawberries and cream—that quintessential English treat, served each year at the courts of Wimbledon.

Molly’s son, Tommy, treats the women like misguided children who cannot manage to organize their lives very effectively. He recognizes both their strengths—that “they’re not just one thing, but several things” (36)—and their failures: Their idealism has not borne any significant fruit, and now he watches them flounder. He admits to the women, “I’d rather be a failure, like you, than succeed and all that sort of thing. But I’m not saying I’m choosing failure” (37). Tommy is torn between the ideals instilled in him by his mother (and Anna) and the expectations of his financially successful father. He is also acutely aware that he has been treated like a pawn in the battle of wills between his parents, Molly and Richard. Anna chides them at one point: “He must feel such a bone of contention” (19). Indeed, Tommy is trapped in the dichotomy of the post-war 20th century, torn between the political ideals of the left and the conservative priorities of the right.

This choice between either embarking on a traditional path, like Richard, or embracing a revolutionary stance is very nearly an impossible one—even for the likes of women such as Anna and Molly. In fact, the entire conversation about Tommy, or about the women’s lives in general, can be distilled down to the problematic fallacy of “either/or”: It is an outdated concept, and it is ultimately destructive, even life-threatening, as the reader will learn throughout the novel. For example, Anna can either love a man, which entails losing part of her own identity, or remain lonely, keeping only her ideals. She knows that such a choice is untenable: “Anna laughed. ‘Men. Women. Bound. Free. Good. Bad. Yes. No. Capitalism. Socialism. Sex. Love…’” (44). She finds no comfort, and no clear way forward, in these stark dichotomies.

These juxtapositions come from an obsolete world order that has been disrupted by war, itself made more terrifying by modern technology. This explains, at least in part, Anna’s hesitance over her own writing, as Tommy points out: “You’re afraid of writing what you think about life, because you might find yourself in an exposed position, you might expose yourself, you might be alone” (39). Thus, Anna records her thoughts in her private journals and worries about whether artistic pursuits are even relevant in this unprecedented. She keeps her true self hidden, rather than risking exposure and loneliness. However, after laying out her notebooks in front of her, she thinks, “But it was only alone, in the big room, that she was herself” (54). The loneliness stalks her, all the same.