Ethel & Ernest: A True Story by Raymond Briggs.
Title: Ethel & Ernest: A True Story.
Author: Raymond Briggs.
Artist: Raymond Briggs.
Genre: Non-fiction, graphic novel, biography, romance, WWII.
Country: England. U.K.
Language: English.
Publication Date: 1998.
Summary: Nothing is invented, nothing embroidered-this is the reality of two decent, ordinary lives, of two people who, as the author tells his parents' life story, become representative of us all as they live our their lives and love story through the decades of the 20th century. The book is also a social history: the dark days of the Second World War, the birth of the Welfare State, the advent of television, and all the changes that were so exhilarating and bewildering for Ethel and Ernest to experience as they brought up their only son.
My rating: 8/10.
My review:
♥ "You haven't asked me to your home, yet, dear."
"Yeah, well... It's not as nice as yours, darling. Our street's full of diddicois and sotermongers. Horses and carts all down the road... Fruit and veg all over the place... Scrap iron, rag and bone men... There's three pubs... Blokes playing cards on the pavement... and there's horse - er... horse manure everywhere. There's fights outside the pubs - women, too... The coppers won't go down there. The last one that did go, they bashed him up then sat on him and blew his whistle to fetch more coppers. It's not your cup of tea, darling."
"Oh, Ernest, dear."
♥
"Oooh! It's lovely! But eight hundred and twenty-five pounds! Can we afford that mortgage business?"
"Yes! Easy! I'll be getting three guineas a week soon. Besides, we've got twenty-five years. Nineteen... er... Nineteen fifty... five, it will be ours."
♥
♥
"Look what I got! Three piece suite! Came out of a posh hotel. Black and silver. Chinese pattern!"
"It's far too big. I'll make some nice loose covers."
♥
"This bloke... Adolf Hitler... It says they're publishing his book over here... Mein Kampf, it's called. All the profits are going to the Red Cross."
"Oh, that's nice of him."
♥
"Surprise! New Mirror!"
"It's lovely! However did you get it home?"
"I walked it back on my bike pedal."
"How much was it?"
"Only half a dollar. I got it off a diddicoi down home."
"I've got a surprise for you, too! I've been to the doctor!"
"Yippee!"
"I can't believe it."
"Happy birthday, darling."
"Oh, Ernest! Your cards. They get bigger every year. The heart's all padded. My best present isn't due till January!"
♥
"Goodness gracious me! What a fuss! Shush now, dear, you'll wake the neighbours, so you will."
♥
♥ "Blimey! There's a photo of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor shaking hands with Hitler."
"Oh, well... He can't be so bad, then."
♥ "This Tele-vision is going to be on one and a half hours every evening!"
"Dreadful! It would be like going to the pictures every day."
♥ "Old Chamberlain is giving Hitler half of Czecho... he says it's peace with honour... peace for our time..."
"Thank goodness for that."
.."It says here the Government is going to spend £200,000 on air raid shelters."
♥ "Can you beat it? IRA bombs in London, Manchester and Birmingham! When will it end?"
"Oh, those Irish! They're like the blessed Arabs and Jews - always at it."
"Yes, and don't forget the Serbs and Croats. They're just as bad. Then there's Hindus and Moslems..."
"Why can't they all just be like us and live in peace?"
♥
"I expect it will be OK. They say Hitler's assured Holland and Belgium of his friendship..."
"Oh, that's nice."
♥
"The front door is half way up the stairs."
"Could have been worse, Et. We got off light."
"It's spoiled my loose covers."
♥
"Joe Stalin says he's got 'no territorial ambitions in other countries.'"
"Oh, they all say that. Look at Hitler."
"Ah yeah, maybe... but old Joe's a communist. They believe in fair play for all."
♥
"Cor! This Beveridge Report! Sickness pay! Unemployment pay, Old Age pensions, kiddies' welfare, free medicines, free hospitals! 'Social security from the cradle to the grave!'"
"Don't read, Ernest. Help."
"The Welfare State! It's what we workers have always fought for. We've won!"
"It will all have to be paid for-"
"Yeah, 'course it will. We'll all chip in. That's the whole idea."
"You can't chip in if you're out of work or off sick or on a pension."
"No... well... 'course not. It's all got to be worked out. It's economics, see? Economics will see to it."
♥
"Come on, son! Shelter!"
"I didn't know they were bright blue underneath, Dad."
"We'd better get you down the country - tomorrow!"
♥
"That's your second glass of beer, Ernest."
"Come on, Arthur! It's VE Day! Cheer up! You look like a dog that's lost its tail!"
"I lost my boy!"
"Oh yeah... Sorry, mate. I forgot... Sorry."
♥ "Cor! To think there'll never be another war!"
"Jessie's Bob is still fighting the Japs, don't forget."
.."Atomic bomb... Hiroshima... 100,000 dead..."
"Hundred thousand dead from one bomb!"
"Well, at least it will put paid to wars.
"Eh? Why?"
"You can't fight a war with bombs like that."
"Why not?"
"Everyone will be dead the first day."
♥
Look! More scrap Anderson! Lid for the coal bunker. We'll own all the coal soon. They're going to nationalise it."
"I bet we still have to pay for it."
"Well, 'course we'll have to pay for it, you daft ha'porth!"
"So we won't own it, then, will we?"
"Well, um... not exactly... but it means the profits will go to the Government instead of lining the pockets of the bosses!"
"And then the Government gives the money to us?"
"No!"
"So what's the difference?"
♥ "Electric thermostat, electric fridge, electric milk float! My old Mum and Dad never knew the meaning of the word."
"What word, duck?"
"Electric! Down home there was nothing "electric" in the whole blessed house. We all grew up all right."
"Two of you died as children, dear."
"What's that got to do with electric?"
"It's all progress, Et. Scientific. It's scientific progress."
♥
"Blimey! 'Meat ration to be cut by tuppence'! It's the lowest it's ever been! Six years after the end of the war!"
"We had more meat under Mr. Churchill."
"Yeah... all right."
"In the middle of the Blitz we had more meat."
"Yes!"
"Battle of Britain..."
"All right!"
"You can't blame Hitler now."
"No!"
"Just your Labour Government."
♥
"Cor blimey! There's a candidate here in the General Election - not only is she a woman but she is twenty-six! I'm old enough to be her father! And she's a Tory! What is the world coming to?"
"I thought your Labour believed in equal rights for everybody?"
"Yeah! 'Course - but... blimey!"
"She's old enough to be married. Have a baby. Go to work. Drive a car. Be in the Army. Fly a plane in the war."
"Yeah, but - blimey! I'd like to see her do my job!"
"She doesn't want your job. She wants to be an MP. She's educated."
"And I'm not, I suppose?"
"Well... no, you're not educated, are you... dear? Nor am I. We couldn't be MPs."
"Who wants to be an MP. anyway?"
♥
"Ooh, dear... What shall I do if it rings when you're out?
"Well, answer it! you daft ha'porth!"
"I don't think I like it."
♥
"It says they're wanting to legalise Homo-Sexuality."
"Oh? What's that?"
"Well... you know.. it's like two blokes. Only... instead of with a woman, sort of with-one another... like..."
"I don't know what you're rambling on About, Ernest, and I don't think you do either."
"I'll... er-put the kettle on, shall I, duck? Nice cup of tea?"
♥ "They're going to do away with Third Class soon."
"Oh, no! We can't afford First Class!"
"No, we'll be second class. It's more democratic. On step nearer equality. Socialism! No one should be a Third Class citizen."
♥ "Blimey! Even more television! They're going to start an hour earlier - at six! Just when everybody's having their tea."
"Well, you can't put it on until you've finished eating, so it will come to the same thing in the end."
♥
♥
"Hullo, Mum! Dad! This is Jean -"
"Hullo, Jean!"
"Hullo dear here's a comb!"
"Mum! I haven't seen you for a month! I've just brought my future wife to meet you - I do not want a comb!"
♥
"Why is she on a trolley?"
"I don't know, son."
"Bloody Kleenex and Vim right by her face! They've put her teeth in all crooked."
"I know, son. I don't know..."
♥
"I'll get the cocoa in a minute, dear. .. Goodnight, Susie."
♥
♥
"They never moved. Forty-one years in the same house..."
"I grew it from a pip."
In Memory of
ETHEL BRIGGS
1895-1971
ERNEST BRIGGS
1900-1971