There are glimpses of Atkinson’s subtle brilliance in this gentle noirish mystery set around the Festival of Britain
In 1951, in a desperate attempt to raise the spirits of a shattered nation, the government came up with the Festival of Britain, a celebration of national creativity, grit and ingenuity. It is a moment in history that could have been designed for Kate Atkinson, who loves nothing more than a quirky detail and a cast of British eccentrics.
Harry Flynn (definitely think Errol), the quietly magnetic hero of Our Noble Selves, has survived Burma as a foreign correspondent turned war reporter. After a doomed marriage to a war widow called Ivy, and a stint in a mock-Tudor semi in Wealdstone with her, her eight-year-old daughter Veronica and a terrier, Mrs Betty, he resumes his bachelor life in London. A chance encounter with his old newspaper boss, Gerald Barry, leads him to a job compiling the festival’s poetry anthology. Barry provides a handy introduction: “The country’s stuck in the doldrums; we need to see the future,” he explains. The festival will celebrate “the Land and the People … Our love of country, love of freedom, love of nature, pride in craftsmanship, our reputation for tolerance and fair play.”