A Drake by George! — Context and Discussion

Nautical Diction as a Comic Device

Trevena peppers the novel with seafaring language that extends beyond the Captain himself. Characters are addressed as 'jollies' and 'flatfeet,' and domestic disputes are framed as battles. In one excerpt, George Drake accuses his rival Percy of being a 'common malefactor' and a 'homicidal maniac,' while describing another as a scoundrel who would 'give twopence with one hand and steal your last sovereign with the other.' This hyperbolic register, drawn from the Captain's naval background, infuses even mundane arguments with a theatrical quality. The effect is not merely decorative: it reinforces the theme of self-dramatisation, as each character tries to cast themselves as the hero of their own story.

The Art of the Bluff: Dialogue and Deception

Much of the comedy arises from characters who talk themselves into corners. George's scheme to forge a will and pressure his aunt into signing it is laid out in a rapid-fire exchange with Nellie, who alternately laughs and protests. His reasoning—'The only way to get justice is to help yourself'—is delivered with a straight face, while he simultaneously accuses others of knavery. Trevena's dialogue captures the rhythm of a practised manipulator: George shifts from indignation to tenderness within a single speech, calling Nellie 'my dear' while plotting fraud. The result is a portrait of a man who believes his own fictions, and whose verbal agility is both his weapon and his flaw.

Setting as Character: Highfield and Windward House

The village of Highfield is sketched with a few telling strokes: a single street, a church at the top, a post office at the bottom, and hills that make 'top, middle, and bottom' relative terms. Into this steep, insular world comes Windward House, a gabled villa of suburban type that is anything but nautical. The contrast between the Captain's grandiose self-image and the mundane reality of his new home is a running joke. Trevena uses the setting to ground the farce: the arrival of three vanloads of furniture, the Chinese vases, the cage of monkeys—all are presented as invasions of a quiet parish. The physical details (the noticeboard, the tortoise) are not mere decoration; they anchor the absurdity in a recognisable English village.

Inheritance and the Comedy of Greed

The excerpts revolve around a dispute over furniture and money, with George, Nellie, Percy, and Aunt Sophy circling one another. Trevena treats inheritance not as a serious legal matter but as a game of wits, complete with forged wills, hidden cheques, and accusations of 'bribery and corruption.' George's plan to buy a sixpenny printed form and have his aunt sign it in front of servants is both outrageous and meticulously detailed. The humour lies in the gap between the high stakes (a fortune) and the low means (a stationer's form). Trevena never lets the reader forget that these are petty squabbles dressed up in grand language, and the characters' self-importance only makes their greed more ridiculous.

Readers should attend to the way Trevena uses voice to distinguish his characters: George's bluster, Nellie's laughter, Percy's sanctimony. The novel rewards attention to its verbal texture—the slang, the insults, the mock-heroic posturing. Because the excerpts offer only fragments of the plot, the pleasure lies in observing how each character tries to control the narrative, and how the author undercuts them with a well-placed detail. Approach this as a comedy of language as much as of situation.

There’s something about George Drake’s clumsy scheming that lingers, like the smell of damp wool after a Devon rain. It made me think of another book I keep nearby, one that also watches its people fumble toward their own small hopes. Mathieu Ropars: et cetera — A Reader’s Guide has that same patient, wry warmth, as if sitting quiet while the world sorts itself out. I suppose I just like stories that don’t rush.