What it means to be working class

Eve Ainsworth
Opinion - Books Tuesday, 20th September 2022

In Duckling I celebrate the values of working-class life - of community, friendship, hope and humour, writes Eve Ainsworth


I'm often asked what it means to be working class, how you define it and why it's even important to make the distinction in the first place. If I'm honest, I'd never really given these questions much thought until I seriously considered becoming a writer, and then I quickly realised that my background really did matter - and not always for the best reasons.

I wasn't always aware of my class, but I always knew I was different from the many of the characters I read about in my beloved Enid Blyton and Judy Blume books. From a young age, I wanted to be a writer - it was the only thing that excited me. I devoured books so quickly, like I was afraid that they might be taken away. I was excited to go to the library and jumble sales every week and stock up on books. 

My parents never had much money. We lived in a council house and struggled to make ends meet. My dad always struggled with poor health. My mum was the sole breadwinner, working long hours at a local factory and coming home often exhausted and aching. However, books united us. Mum and Dad read to me every night. My parents had overflowing bookshelves, they both loved the classics. My Dad was a Shakespeare expert, swotting up and writing unpublished essays on the mistakes he'd found in the texts. My mum brought home stacks of paper from the factory where she worked, to help feed my endless writing habit.

We may not have had holidays, or cars, or brand-new clothes, and there were times when we sat in the dark, scrambling around to find a spare 50p for the electricity meter - but we always had books, reading and a love for history and learning new things. 

And it was this love, this passion, that stayed with me growing up. I wanted to be a writer, but my teen years saw my first obstacles. My GCSE English teacher almost sneered when I told her my ambitions. She advised me to 'lower my expectations'. My careers adviser didn't even listen when I mentioned publishing or writing as a career, and instead steered me towards teaching (I would have been a rubbish teacher). Even my beloved Dad told me I was aiming too high. "People like us don't get published," he told me. He pointed to his overflowing shelves, full of middle-class, well-connected writers and scholars. I had to admit, his words hit me hard. 

I pondered his words. "People like us didn't get published." Well, it was true, it was tougher. Many working-class authors didn't have the same connections, money, or the confidence to chase these dreams - but I also knew there were exceptions. One of my favourite authors growing up had been Sue Townsend. I knew she had written her books while struggling as a single mum. If she could do it, why couldn't I?

With steely determination I continued to write and be rejected, until finally my first YA book was published in 2015. I was delighted of course, but it wasn't long before the evil tendrils of imposter syndrome wrapped around me. I attended a very grand publishing event and was so very aware of my 'common' accent, cheap dress and awkward behaviour. I felt so out of place and even more so when a very polite, but very posh man swooped upon me and asked how I'd got my book published. He asked me, who did I know? When I told him that I had been picked off a slush pile, he burst out laughing. "Slush? I didn't know anyone was actually published from the slush pile!"

I continued to write books that I felt reflected my background and avoided the cliches and tropes that I saw far too often in other books, TV programmes and films. When I visited schools in underprivileged areas, the students would tell me how glad they were to see their lives reflected honestly in my writing. They didn't feel patronised or stigmatised. This was a huge accomplishment for me, and it gave me confidence that I was doing the right thing.

Duckling, my adult debut, was my attempt to continue to break down the stereotypes I had seen in adult fiction and other media. I was tired of seeing working class characters depicted as criminals, or lazy, or losers. These tropes are so damaging and so divisive. 

Instead, in Duckling I celebrate the values of working-class life - of community, friendship, hope and humour. Readers have praised these elements and commented that it is rare to find this type of working class writing in the commercial genre. 

Defining your class is difficult. I know I'm in a better position now than I was growing up, but I believe it's your background and upbringing that will shape you later in life. I still define myself as working class, because I still hold those values closest to my heart. I am very proud of my roots because they make me who I am - I know that I have a grit and determination that has come from previous struggles. I am also a realist and I care about my community. I want to help other working-class writers secure their platforms. I am also passionate and motivated to change things. I fiercely believe that the publishing industry still needs to adapt and evolve and become more inclusive and diverse (from top to bottom) to continue to promote underrepresented voices.People like me do get published, but you could argue that we have to fight a little harder to get there. One day, I hope, the fight won't be as great. Perhaps it will be just that little bit fairer.

Eve Ainsworth's debut novel for adults, Duckling, is published by Penguin. Her YA novels include Know My Place, Lost and Kicking Off.