Truth-Finder, Hurt-Healer: Jacqueline Winspear's "Maisie Dobbs"
The unhealed wounds of the Great War bring intrigue.
To call her a “detective” is inadequate; to say, “private eye,” implying all the dashing flair of New York or Chicago in the 30s, seems almost crass. Much if not most of her work has does cross over with those two terms; but they do not get at the heart of what she does. Terms such as “social work,” “counseling,” even a vague sense of “ministry” come to mind, and add nuance. But none of them are adequate to the task.
Shall we instead let her describe, in her own words, what sort of work she wanted to do? She explained when discussing her desired work with her mentor:
And in her mind's eye Maisie carried a vision. During their last lesson before she left for Chelstone, he [Maurice] had asked Maisie what she might do with this education, this opportunity.
"Um, I don't really know, Dr. Blanche. I always thought I could teach. My mum wanted me to be a teacher. It's a good job for me, teaching."
"But?"
Maisie looked at Maurice Blanche, at the bright eyes that looked into the soul of a person so that they naturally revealed to him in words what he could silently observe.
"But. But I think I want to do something like what you do, Dr. Blanche."
Maurice Blanche made a church and steeple with his hands, and rested his upper lip on his forefingers. Two minutes passed before he looked up at Maisie.
"And what do I do, Maisie?"
“You heal people. That is, I think you heal people. In all sorts of ways. That's what I think."
Blanche nodded, leaned back in his chair, and looked out of the library window to the walled gardens of 15 Ebury Place.
"Yes, I think you could say that, Maisie."
"And I think you find out the truth. I think you look at what is right and wrong. And I think you have had lots of different—educations."
"Yes, Maisie, that is all correct.”
So, maybe we can best describe Maisie by the kind of work she wanted to do, a desire which only gained steam through the savagery of the Great War; she wanted to be a hurt-healer, a truth-seeker.
The book first opens with Maisie as a calm and confident adult, but we are intermittently taken back into her past (from which is the quote above.) The only daughter of a widower costermonger, who sold produce on the streets of London, Maisie—though naturally bright—has little opportunity for education or a career until she gains a position as a servant at the house of the Lord and Lady Compton. Their friend, Dr. Maurice Blanche, a physician with more to him than meets the eye, takes an interest in Maisie, and sets her on the path to an education and a healing skillset such as he possesses. She pauses her education during the Great War to serve as a nurse in France, and even begins a romance with an army captain—one that would be tragically cut short, and would be a key part of the book’s bittersweet ending.
Maisie’s first “case” is the main thread of the book—a suspected case of marital infidelity. Maisie’s response to a husband seeking information is striking, and displays the maturation of her desire as a teen, and subsequently tempered by war and personal tragedy.
“‘Mr. Davenham. To follow a person is an invasion of the right of that individual to privacy. If I take on this case—and I do have a choice in the matter—I am taking on more than the question of who did what and when. I am taking on a responsibility for both you and your wife in a way that you may not have considered. Tell me, what will you do with the information I provide?’
‘Well, I ... I'll use it. It will be a matter for my solicitor.’
Maisie placed her hands together in front of her face, just touching her nose, as if in prayer.
‘Let me ask you another question. What value do you place on your marriage?’”
‘What sort of question is that?’
‘A question to be answered, if I am to take on this investigation.’
‘A high value. Vows are meant to be honored.’
‘And what value do you place on understanding, compassion, forgiveness?’
Davenham was silent. He crossed his legs, smoothed the tweed trousers, and leaned down to rub away a nonexistent scuff on his polished leather shoes, before responding.
‘D*** and blast!’
‘Mr. Davenham—’
‘Miss Dobbs, I am not without compassion, but I have my pride. My wife will not divulge the nature of her business on those days when she is absent. I have come here in order to learn the truth.’
‘Oh yes. The truth. Mr. Davenham, I will ascertain the truth for you, but I must have an agreement from you—that when you have my report, and you know the truth, then we will discuss the future together.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The information I gather will be presented in a context. It is in light of that context that we must continue our discussion, in order for you and your wife to build a future.’
‘I'm sure I don't know what you mean.’
Maisie stood up, walked to the window, then turned to face her potential client. The bluff of the stiff upper lip, thought Maisie, who keenly felt the man's discomfort, and was immediately attuned to his emotions. Intuition spoke to her. He talks about pride when it's his heart that's aching.
‘My job is rather more complex than you might have imagined, Mr. Davenham. I am responsible for the safety of all parties. And this is so even when I am dealing with society's more criminal elements.’”
As Maisie seeks the truth, it unexpectedly ties into the family of her benefactors, the Comptons. Maisie comes to suspect that their son, James, a wounded flying ace, is in potential danger from none other than a group of other wounded veterans. With the help of an undercover assistant, she gains the information she needs to bring justice, save a life, and even begin the process of healing her own wounds.
Ms. Winspear is skillful at crafting emotionally charged scenes. For the sake of not revealing spoilers, I can quote precious little, but the following separate quotes from the book’s climax should serve to showcase her talent:
“Maisie gasped as she scanned the tableau before her. A sea of men were seated on chairs With their damaged faces, once so very dear to a mother, father, or sweetheart, they were now reduced to gargoyles by a war that, for them, had never ended. There were men without noses or jaws, men who searched for light with empty eye sockets, men with only half a face where once a full-formed smile had beamed. She choked back tears, her blue eyes searching for [someone]….”
Central to the harrowing climax of this book is the theme of capital punishment for desertion, a sentence carried out on hundreds of British and Commonwealth soldiers many of whom were teens or clearly suffering from PTSD. Maisie is faced with the psychological afteraffects of this.
“The audience stood unmoved, yet in fear; their eyes, behind the terrible deformities war had dealt them, showing terror. And in that dreadful moment when she thought that the strong, fast legs that had borne her to this place had become paralyzed, Maisie was haunted by the past and present coming together as one. She knew that she must take action, but what could stop this madness immediately, without the men rising up against her… ‘Fight like with like,’ she whispered, remembering one of Maurice's lessons, and as she uttered the words, a picture flashed into her mind, a memory, of being on the train with Iris, of watching the soldiers as they marched off to battle, singing as they beat a path to death's door.”
Ms. Winspear, a descendent of those who fought in the war, successfully captured a key facet of the societal aftermath of WWI—for those who lived through it, how did they fare? The lightly wounded, the permanently maimed, the officers who carried out ghastly orders, those who lost soldiers—sons, brothers, lovers—to death or disfigurement; all are represented here. All react in various ways. All struggle as humans. This book leads one to deeply ponder the price that people pay in war, and what our response can and should be.
This book teaches multiple lessons and truly impresses the heart. Maisie Dobbs—both the book and the fictional (but no less morally real) character—shows us the power of compassionate intellect. Channeled together, compassion and intelligence are an incredibly powerful force for good.
But the most profound lesson of all is that, while time buries wounds, it cannot heal them—that process must be initiated, and it is often incredibly painful; yet, it is always worth it. “Setting” moral, psychological, and spiritual wounds must be undertaken carefully on behalf of others, and with great personal courage on behalf of ourselves.
Maisie Dobbs admirably displays her capacity for both—and sets an example for us to do the same.
Dedicated to all 306 British and Commonwealth soldiers, executed after courts-martial for desertion, pardoned in 2007.
I am a college student, an EMT, and Northern California native intent on improving my writing skills. I’ll gladly consider all feedback, which you can direct to my email. You can also find me on Instagram @tduncanr and Twitter/X @tduncanr327