Nell Dunn was not even thirty when she wrote
the ten pages stories which compose 'Up The Junction'. Nevertheless, as I go
through them I see the Battersea of the 1950s and 1960s being drawn in front
of my eyes by a master of her art. Dunn's eye is sharp, deep, precise, while
her pencil is quick, sober and assertive. With an extraordinary instinct for
images, she paints a street in one sentence, brings a character to life in two
lines of dialogue.
To reach this level of efficiency, Dunn must have gone through merciless editing, laying on paper Loachian scenes of everyday life then stripping them of anything, any word which was not absolutely necessary to our understanding. Her style is a lesson in sobriety and a harsh, sobering read on women's living conditions in our countries fifty years ago.
To reach this level of efficiency, Dunn must have gone through merciless editing, laying on paper Loachian scenes of everyday life then stripping them of anything, any word which was not absolutely necessary to our understanding. Her style is a lesson in sobriety and a harsh, sobering read on women's living conditions in our countries fifty years ago.
