One of the great things about literature is its ability to change your sympathies: to make you see some good where you saw only bad before and vice versa. For example, in real life I've always had a strong aversion to hypochondria and any kind of fixation on ailments/health, and in all the fiction I've encountered I can't really recall a sympathetically drawn hypochondriac, except maybe Emma's dad in "Emma," but even he is fairly annoying. Mitford's character Davey, on the other hand, I found really endearing (although he lacks credibility as a heterosexual, in my view ... hehe). I've been trying to figure out why I like him, and I think it's because, obsessed as he is with his own physical condition, he still manages to be genuinely concerned with the well-being of others, like his mission to get some good food on Aunt Sadie's table during the war and the way he takes care of Fanny and treats her like an adult. His health obsession seems more like a weird hobby than the exercise in total self-absorption that such obsessions usually are in life and in fiction.
What did you think of him?
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I had a similar reaction. When he refused the food during his introductory scene, I didn't have much hope for the character. I always cringe to hear people talk about which foods bind them up or make them gassy or whatever. But Davey grew on me. As you said, he was genuinely kind and concerned about those around him, and his hypochondria was comical enough to be more amusing than annoying.
I think he's even more charming in "Cold Climate" even though he's largely reduced to the beginning of the story. Yes, he's kind of a like a benevolent older brother to Fanny.
I love when he confronts Sadie about the wartime food at her house, calling it "poison."
Sadie, I wouldn't complain if it were merely nasty, or insufficient, or too starchy, one expects that in a war, but actual poison does, I feel, call for comment. Look at the menus this week — Monday, poison pie; Tuesday, poison burger steak; Wednesday, Cornish poison —
Isn't that terrific? Then on the next page, he says:
You always used to be such a wonderful housekeeper, Sadie dear, it used to do one so much good, coming here. I remember one Christmas I put on four and a half ounces.
Hehe
Yes! See, that's delightful hypochondria.
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