Every year Portia and her space-mad younger brother Foster spend the summer with their aunt, uncle and cousin in Creston - Julian's a year older than Portia, fascinated by insects and animals and plants, and the ideal companion for all day explorations of the wild countryside around his home. This year's even better, because Foster has a playmate his age, Davey Grayson from the neighbouring farm. But that fades into insignificance when Portia and Julian discover a ghost town on the edge of the swamp - glorious houses falling own through neglect, uninhabited except by an elderly couple, Mrs Minnehaha Cheever and her brother Pindar Payton.
This classic children's book from the mid 1950's is imbued with the best of both that era's sensibilities and a touch of turn of the (last) century setting. I enjoyed all of Elizabeth Enright's children's novels, which (perhaps because of the EE, perhaps because of timing proximity) I always classed along with British Edward Eager's young adult fantasy stories. All I remembered of it was the setting, gingerbread houses and safe adventure, so the individual details were delightful encounters rather than fond memories, though no less appreciated for that. Though I haven't the whole hearted love for Gone-Away Lake and its sequel Return to Gone-Away, I thought of how much I'd enjoy sharing this, when they're a little older, with my sibling's children. Just beautiful, harmonious, and incorporating a true, '50s style happy ending. - Alex
Showing posts with label classic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label classic. Show all posts
Monday, April 26
Sunday, April 4
The Children of Green Knowe - LM Boston
Toseland’s used to being alone – his father and step-mother are far away in Burma, and last holidays he stayed at boarding school with the head mistress. But then his great-grandmother wrote to say that he was coming to stay with her at Green Knowe.
The house is amazing, with wonderful things around every corner, and Tolly has a room filled with amazing things – a carved mouse that looks incredibly lifelike, a rocking horse with real hair, and a miniature doll’s house that replicated Green Knowe to the last detail. Except that there are four beds in the doll house, and only one in Tolly’s room. The other beds belong to Alexander, Linnet and Toby – and if Tolly listens hard enough he can hear them in the house and on the grounds.
I read all the Green Knowe books around twenty-five year ago, and look forward to revisiting the characters, and the plots I only dimly remember. The Children of Green Knowe is justifiably a children’s classic - into what appears a somewhat bleak and lonely childhood enters magic, fantasy and acceptance. Great-Grandmother Oldknowe played with Toby, Linnet and Alexander when she was a child, and fully enters into Tolly's world, providing him with validation. The books are, more importantly, very well written, and strongly evocative. - Alex
The house is amazing, with wonderful things around every corner, and Tolly has a room filled with amazing things – a carved mouse that looks incredibly lifelike, a rocking horse with real hair, and a miniature doll’s house that replicated Green Knowe to the last detail. Except that there are four beds in the doll house, and only one in Tolly’s room. The other beds belong to Alexander, Linnet and Toby – and if Tolly listens hard enough he can hear them in the house and on the grounds.
I read all the Green Knowe books around twenty-five year ago, and look forward to revisiting the characters, and the plots I only dimly remember. The Children of Green Knowe is justifiably a children’s classic - into what appears a somewhat bleak and lonely childhood enters magic, fantasy and acceptance. Great-Grandmother Oldknowe played with Toby, Linnet and Alexander when she was a child, and fully enters into Tolly's world, providing him with validation. The books are, more importantly, very well written, and strongly evocative. - Alex
Wednesday, March 3
The Acceptance World - Anthony Powell
The third installment in the Dance to the Music of Time sequence brings narrator Nicholas Jenkins to the 1930's. He has his fortune read by Mrs Erdleigh, a very certain woman introduced to him by his Uncle Giles; she declares that he will see her again in a year, and find love in the meantime, much to his scepticism. And indeed, after many an unhappy sojourn into affairs of the heart, Jenkins is reunited with school friend Templer's younger sister, Jean, separated from her husband, who after a time returns his affections.
Politics are more prominent in The Acceptance World, as Marxism enters the vocabulary of England's upper middle classes - a move seen most prominently in the conversion of out moded author St. John Clarke to the cause. The paranormal element first rising in Mrs Erdleigh recurs later when a Planchette board (which sounds something like a ouija board) is brought out, which occasion is also the first appearance of changing politics of the era.
While Widmerpoole appears only briefly, the change in him is significant. Once somewhat pallid and ineffectual, he now seems more certain and almost powerful, though no less pompous - it's when, during a school reunion dinner, he begins pontificating at length that old school master La Bas sustains a severe stroke. Widmerpoole is also the source of the title - he works for the Acceptance World, a company that accepts the debt of others, for a sum. Readers more astute than I have noted that it refers also to the characters of the novel accepting the disappointment of their lives as lived rather than their imagined future lives, idealised in youth.
Unimpressed with A Question of Upbringing, but more appreciative of A Buyer's Market, I am right back where I started. The Acceptance World left me cold and, with the sole exception of Widmerpool, disinterested in the fate of any of the characters. I can see the literary skill of Powell, but this is a purely intellectual appreciation. At no point did I feel gripped by the plot, captured by the characters, or invested in the outcome.
And yet I cannot help feeling as though the fault lies with me - that if only I were more literary, intelligent, or aware of nuance then I too would see this series as a masterpiece, and also be able to find the humour in what many have called "perhaps the finest long [20th century] comic novel that England has produced" (that specific quote, from Anthony Burgess, is on the dust jacket).
Perhaps the problem is that, though I lived there for some of my formative years, I'm not English, not upper class or even particularly class conscious, and have no knowledge of the real people or situations on which the series is based.
My mother says that repeat reading significantly increases one's enjoyment of the series. Frankly, just making it through all twelve once will be something of an achievement, but who knows - perhaps this time in December I'll be raving about the magnificence of A Dance to the Music of Time and eager to start at the beginning again. - Alex
Politics are more prominent in The Acceptance World, as Marxism enters the vocabulary of England's upper middle classes - a move seen most prominently in the conversion of out moded author St. John Clarke to the cause. The paranormal element first rising in Mrs Erdleigh recurs later when a Planchette board (which sounds something like a ouija board) is brought out, which occasion is also the first appearance of changing politics of the era.
While Widmerpoole appears only briefly, the change in him is significant. Once somewhat pallid and ineffectual, he now seems more certain and almost powerful, though no less pompous - it's when, during a school reunion dinner, he begins pontificating at length that old school master La Bas sustains a severe stroke. Widmerpoole is also the source of the title - he works for the Acceptance World, a company that accepts the debt of others, for a sum. Readers more astute than I have noted that it refers also to the characters of the novel accepting the disappointment of their lives as lived rather than their imagined future lives, idealised in youth.
Unimpressed with A Question of Upbringing, but more appreciative of A Buyer's Market, I am right back where I started. The Acceptance World left me cold and, with the sole exception of Widmerpool, disinterested in the fate of any of the characters. I can see the literary skill of Powell, but this is a purely intellectual appreciation. At no point did I feel gripped by the plot, captured by the characters, or invested in the outcome.
And yet I cannot help feeling as though the fault lies with me - that if only I were more literary, intelligent, or aware of nuance then I too would see this series as a masterpiece, and also be able to find the humour in what many have called "perhaps the finest long [20th century] comic novel that England has produced" (that specific quote, from Anthony Burgess, is on the dust jacket).
Perhaps the problem is that, though I lived there for some of my formative years, I'm not English, not upper class or even particularly class conscious, and have no knowledge of the real people or situations on which the series is based.
My mother says that repeat reading significantly increases one's enjoyment of the series. Frankly, just making it through all twelve once will be something of an achievement, but who knows - perhaps this time in December I'll be raving about the magnificence of A Dance to the Music of Time and eager to start at the beginning again. - Alex
Monday, February 8
Victoria Holt: Mistress of Mellyn
A penniless young gentlewoman takes a job as a governess in a lonely house on the Cornish coast. But, if the servants’ gossip is to be believed, the house has dark secrets and its enigmatic owner is only one of them. The man is insufferable and it is only her concern for her poor motherless charge that stops her from leaving and leads her to seek the truth behind multiple family tragedies.
Little does she realise that uncovering that truth may cost her life.
This book was exactly what one would expect of an old-school gothic romance.
Spooky old house-check.
Dark and mysterious man-check.
Unsolved mystery-check.
Heroine in danger-check.
Secondary characters with ambiguous motives-check.
Possible paranormal element-check.
It was all here. No wonder I loved this book.
I read somewhere that old style gothic romances are love stories between a woman and a house and in this case, at least, nothing could have been truer. A fan of the modern romance is bound to be disappointed. The hero barely rates a mention for the bulk of the story. To say he is two dimensional is to give him more substance than he possessed. He is present only insomuch as he is required to move the plot forward. The supernatural elements hinted at are, in the end, quite mundane, but I think, no less interesting for that.
Victoria Holt is the Grande Dame of gothic romance and this book is a prime example of how she became so. I just wish there was more of the same around today.-Lynn
Tuesday, February 2
A Buyer's Market - Anthony Powell
In the second chapter of A Dance to the Music of Time we pick up with narrator Nick Jenkins, who has finished his education and is now a member of adult society. In addition to the reappearance of familiar characters like Templer, Stringham and the ubiquitous (and no more likable) Windmerpool, we meet a new cast. The first of these, introduced in the first sentence, is unsuccessful artist and old family acquaintance Mr E. Bosworth Deacon, brought to mind many years later by Jenkins' seeing his work at an auction.
In the style of the series, Jenkins then reflects on his interactions with Deacon, from a chance meeting in Paris as an adolescent, to seeing his work half-hidden at the home of Eleanor Walpole-Wilson, cousin of Jenkin's school friend Peter Goring. And this takes us through a series of debutante balls and a dance with an assortment of characters, threaded through with Deacon and his rather disreputable lady friend Gypsy Jones (who dallies with both Windmerpool and Jenkins, though at different times).
Perhaps because I had a better idea of what to expect, I found I quite enjoyed A Buyer's Market, certainly more than A Question of Upbringing - the key is not to expect a traditional narrative with a plot, or the introduction and explanation of characters. The narrative style is instead more like a stream of consciousness, where one thing reminds our guide of another. Like the title suggests, the reader is danced in a complicated by seemingly random (though planned) pattern, interacting with and parting from various people new and familiar.
It's quite difficult to extract a part from the whole to give a flavour of the writing, as it's all so intricately intertwined. I doubt I'll be able to keep track of the vast cast, particularly as on a first reading there's no way to tell who will recur or be important and who is there as an extra. I now understand why repeated readings would increase the enjoyment of the series, as there are certainly things already that I'd pick up differently from both the first books on a second encounter.
I had a better sense of the comedy threaded through the writing this time, as well as the nuances in the writing, and Widmerpool's heavy presence more strongly indicated his importance in the overall narrative. We also learn a little more about Jenkins, those these glimpses are usually incidental and used to illustrate the character of others - for example, Jenkins gives Widmerpool his work address (not in the City), certain he'll never call by, to which Widmerpool
We are, however, left with very clear impressions of how Jenkins sees those around him, particularly potential rivals for the women he (so far quite ineptly) fancies.
There's no question of the writing being a product of both its class and time (both when the novels are set - A Buyer's Market apparently takes place in 1928/29 - and when they were written - copyrighted 1952), as the terms "Jewess" and "negro" and the line "a plump man with a hooked nose and black curly hair, perhaps an Oriental" make clear, quite apart from the minimal role of women. The easy, familiar references to classical art and literature reminded me of Stephen Fry's similar sensibility, and the contrast between this and contemporary novels set in the past was interesting.
I think I'll enjoy my self-imposed task of finishing the series over the year more than I expected, but I doubt I'll preempt a month and read the next installment sooner than planned. - Alex
In the style of the series, Jenkins then reflects on his interactions with Deacon, from a chance meeting in Paris as an adolescent, to seeing his work half-hidden at the home of Eleanor Walpole-Wilson, cousin of Jenkin's school friend Peter Goring. And this takes us through a series of debutante balls and a dance with an assortment of characters, threaded through with Deacon and his rather disreputable lady friend Gypsy Jones (who dallies with both Windmerpool and Jenkins, though at different times).
Perhaps because I had a better idea of what to expect, I found I quite enjoyed A Buyer's Market, certainly more than A Question of Upbringing - the key is not to expect a traditional narrative with a plot, or the introduction and explanation of characters. The narrative style is instead more like a stream of consciousness, where one thing reminds our guide of another. Like the title suggests, the reader is danced in a complicated by seemingly random (though planned) pattern, interacting with and parting from various people new and familiar.
It's quite difficult to extract a part from the whole to give a flavour of the writing, as it's all so intricately intertwined. I doubt I'll be able to keep track of the vast cast, particularly as on a first reading there's no way to tell who will recur or be important and who is there as an extra. I now understand why repeated readings would increase the enjoyment of the series, as there are certainly things already that I'd pick up differently from both the first books on a second encounter.
I had a better sense of the comedy threaded through the writing this time, as well as the nuances in the writing, and Widmerpool's heavy presence more strongly indicated his importance in the overall narrative. We also learn a little more about Jenkins, those these glimpses are usually incidental and used to illustrate the character of others - for example, Jenkins gives Widmerpool his work address (not in the City), certain he'll never call by, to which Widmerpool
made some formal enquiries about the firm, and seemed rather disapproving of the nature of the business.
'Who exactly buys "art books"?'
We are, however, left with very clear impressions of how Jenkins sees those around him, particularly potential rivals for the women he (so far quite ineptly) fancies.
There's no question of the writing being a product of both its class and time (both when the novels are set - A Buyer's Market apparently takes place in 1928/29 - and when they were written - copyrighted 1952), as the terms "Jewess" and "negro" and the line "a plump man with a hooked nose and black curly hair, perhaps an Oriental" make clear, quite apart from the minimal role of women. The easy, familiar references to classical art and literature reminded me of Stephen Fry's similar sensibility, and the contrast between this and contemporary novels set in the past was interesting.
I think I'll enjoy my self-imposed task of finishing the series over the year more than I expected, but I doubt I'll preempt a month and read the next installment sooner than planned. - Alex
Saturday, January 2
A Question of Upbringing - Anthony Powell
Opening at an unnamed British public school in 1921 and closing during his first year at university, A Question of Upbringing begins the story our narrator, Nicholas Jenkins. We learn little of his own life and family, as Jenkins strings together reminiscences of his school days with the romantic Charles Stringham, daring Peter Templar (who is sent down after a string of practical jokes), and the plodding and clueless Windmerpool, branded an outsider his first day, when he wore "the wrong kind of overcoat." Through the course of the novel Jenkins' path randomly crosses his old school friends and Widmerpool, along with those of other characters, most notably during Jenkins' stay at La Grenadière in France to hone his French.
Starting the year off the way I intend to continue, I have not only started with a non-library book but the first in the acclaimed twelve-part series A Dance to the Music of Time, with the intention of reading one each month. God help me. Because I just didn't get the attraction. A Question of Upbringing is certainly not a strongly narrative or plot-driven novel, and nothing much seemed to happen. Neither is it character-driven, for I learned little about Jenkins and only glimpses about the other characters he encounters. There is certainly a strong sense of time, place and above all class, but that doesn't so much grab me.
I've been told that the books become more interesting and intricate with each installment, and that analysing each novel separately robs the narrative as a whole of its complexity, subtle nuance and character development. We shall see. - Alex
Starting the year off the way I intend to continue, I have not only started with a non-library book but the first in the acclaimed twelve-part series A Dance to the Music of Time, with the intention of reading one each month. God help me. Because I just didn't get the attraction. A Question of Upbringing is certainly not a strongly narrative or plot-driven novel, and nothing much seemed to happen. Neither is it character-driven, for I learned little about Jenkins and only glimpses about the other characters he encounters. There is certainly a strong sense of time, place and above all class, but that doesn't so much grab me.
I've been told that the books become more interesting and intricate with each installment, and that analysing each novel separately robs the narrative as a whole of its complexity, subtle nuance and character development. We shall see. - Alex
Sunday, October 11
A Classical Education - Caroline Taggart
Subtitled The stuff you wish you'd been taught at school, A Classical Education gives the reader a comprehensive but brief overview of the elements that comprise a traditional education in the classics - the history, philosophy, art and sciences of the Ancient Greeks and Romans.
Taggart opens by explaining that a starting point is necessarily somewhat arbitrary, what with history stretching back pretty much forever. Her tone throughout is informed but unpretentious and light, extending on occasion to genuinely amusing, as in her definition of Latin phrases like
This is obviously not a book for everyone, but if you always felt the lack of classical education in your schooling, have an inquiring mind that runs along this kind of track, always wanted to get chronologies clear, or (like me) feel that your long-ago classes in Latin and Classical Civilisations have become muddied with time, A Classical Education may be for you. I found it, along with Taggart's I Used to Know That, a grammar text and another book that currently escapes me, at an HMV in London, of all places. Though I decided not to buy any new books while I was away I'm glad I made exceptions for this little trilogy (the grammar manual I left with my brother-in-law), and have now added Herodotus to my reading list and I, Claudius to my DVD viewing schedule. - Alex
Taggart opens by explaining that a starting point is necessarily somewhat arbitrary, what with history stretching back pretty much forever. Her tone throughout is informed but unpretentious and light, extending on occasion to genuinely amusing, as in her definition of Latin phrases like
In vino veritas: 'in wine, truth'. A nonsensical expression that suggests you tell the truth when you are pissed, when it should of course be 'in vino gross exaggeration, distorted reality and maudlin self-pity.'If you're interesting in the evolution of alphabets or numeric systems, want to get your head around the chronology and relationships of the ancient gods, know more about the line of Roman rulers, marvel at the unnecessary complexity of Greece's traditional three calendars (all differently calculated and inconsistent across regions), brush up on early philosophy, or discover a couple of interesting websites, this is the book for you. Actually, I can help you out on that last: Taggard mentions that she learned a lot (though much of it irrelevant) from 'interesting thing of the day' and though I haven't visited it yet, praises a site that examines whether Hannibal's elephants were African, Indian or a now-extinct species. She's also included my favourite Plato quote, which asks whether things are good because the gods love them, or loved by the gods because they're good, which is a great question to ask of annoying religious people (that last is my take, not Taggart's).
This is obviously not a book for everyone, but if you always felt the lack of classical education in your schooling, have an inquiring mind that runs along this kind of track, always wanted to get chronologies clear, or (like me) feel that your long-ago classes in Latin and Classical Civilisations have become muddied with time, A Classical Education may be for you. I found it, along with Taggart's I Used to Know That, a grammar text and another book that currently escapes me, at an HMV in London, of all places. Though I decided not to buy any new books while I was away I'm glad I made exceptions for this little trilogy (the grammar manual I left with my brother-in-law), and have now added Herodotus to my reading list and I, Claudius to my DVD viewing schedule. - Alex
Wednesday, July 22
The Day of the Triffids - John Wyndham
Recovering from eye surgery that has temporarily left him bandaged and effectively blind for several days, Bill Masen is surprised when the usual routine of hospital life, usually so regimented, is broken. Impatient for both his breakfast and for the bandages to be removed, his irritation soon moves to concern - as he concentrates he notices almost no street noise, no bird song, and crying from the rest of the ward floor. When he boldly removes his bandages (relieved to discover his sight has fully returned) and investigates, Bill discovers that he is one of only a handful of sighted people left in London. The night before a spectacular and unprecedented meteor shower attracted the attention of everyone able to watch, and it seems that in the process it blinded the populace.
Before the crisis Bill worked with triffids, tall plants with tongue-like stingers that can kill, and that can walk awkwardly on three 'legs' - his proximity to the plants, whose origin is unknown but who are widely suspected to be Russian, allows him greater insight into their behaviour, and a degree of immunity to their poison. Bill is the first to realise that the triffids are taking advantage of the blindness, killing and devouring humanity at an unprecedented rate.
I was aware on this reading, as I certainly wasn't on my initial reading when I was a teen, of how clearly the era it was written is present in the text. Some of these are inevitable reflections of the era, like the presence of the Cold War and the mysterious blankness of the Soviet Union are so strong as to almost be characters in their own right, and the presentation of women; though this is to some extent addressed by one character, the image of at least some women as parasitic and decorative is uncomfortably present when contrasted with more contemporary fiction.
Other dated aspects could have been avoided has Wyndham been aware that his work would still be popular half a century after its publication, elements like currency references ("I myself had not been one of those addicted to living in an apartment with a rent of some two thousand pounds a year") and the snatches of song that both serve no purpose and anchor the decade, such as: like
That said, The Day of the Triffids is post-apocalyptic SF classic that has in many respects barely dated in the almost fifty years since it was written. The central character is strong and engaging, the crisis is unique and fascinating, and the plot trajectory is strong and holds up after all this time. This is at least the fifth time I've read The Day of the Triffids, and each reading is fresh and interests me anew. There is romance, suspense, danger, intelligence, contrast and, as is the case in all great novels, I am every time left to ponder how I would fare in such a situation. There's a reason why this was known as the Golden Age of Science Fiction, and why Wyndham's reputation persists long after his death. - Alex
Before the crisis Bill worked with triffids, tall plants with tongue-like stingers that can kill, and that can walk awkwardly on three 'legs' - his proximity to the plants, whose origin is unknown but who are widely suspected to be Russian, allows him greater insight into their behaviour, and a degree of immunity to their poison. Bill is the first to realise that the triffids are taking advantage of the blindness, killing and devouring humanity at an unprecedented rate.
I was aware on this reading, as I certainly wasn't on my initial reading when I was a teen, of how clearly the era it was written is present in the text. Some of these are inevitable reflections of the era, like the presence of the Cold War and the mysterious blankness of the Soviet Union are so strong as to almost be characters in their own right, and the presentation of women; though this is to some extent addressed by one character, the image of at least some women as parasitic and decorative is uncomfortably present when contrasted with more contemporary fiction.
Other dated aspects could have been avoided has Wyndham been aware that his work would still be popular half a century after its publication, elements like currency references ("I myself had not been one of those addicted to living in an apartment with a rent of some two thousand pounds a year") and the snatches of song that both serve no purpose and anchor the decade, such as: like
I [was] twiddling the stem of my glass and listening to the phonograph in the other pub churning out the currently popular, if rather lugubrious, ditty:
"My love's locked up in a frigidaire,
And my heart's in a deep-freeze pack.
She's gone with a guy, I'd not know where,
But she wrote that she'd never come back.
Now she don't care for me no more,
I'm just a one-man frozen store,
And it ain't nice
To be on ice
With my love locked up in a frigidaire,
And my heart in a deep-freeze pack."
That said, The Day of the Triffids is post-apocalyptic SF classic that has in many respects barely dated in the almost fifty years since it was written. The central character is strong and engaging, the crisis is unique and fascinating, and the plot trajectory is strong and holds up after all this time. This is at least the fifth time I've read The Day of the Triffids, and each reading is fresh and interests me anew. There is romance, suspense, danger, intelligence, contrast and, as is the case in all great novels, I am every time left to ponder how I would fare in such a situation. There's a reason why this was known as the Golden Age of Science Fiction, and why Wyndham's reputation persists long after his death. - Alex
Saturday, May 23
Love in a Cold Climate - Nancy Mitford
Love in a Cold Climate returns to the decade between the First and Second World Wars. Like its forerunner, The Pursuit of Love, it is narrated by Fanny. This time the emphasis is less strongly on her Radlett cousins, though they and the other members of the family certainly appear. We learn more about Fanny's adult life, and the beginnings of her marriage to Alfred, an academic at Oxford. But the main focus is on the Lord and Lady Montdore, neighbours of Uncle Matthew and Aunt Sadie. Their beautiful and only daughter Polly creates an unthinkable scandal shortly after the death of her aunt, resulting in her outraged and jilted mother cutting off all contact.
The property is entailed, and though the heir (an American) has never expressed an interest in the stately home, the Montdore's contact him. In no time Cedric replaces Polly in Lady Montdore's affections - articulate, aesthetic and effete, Cedric manages to revamp her image and brighten her life.
A longer and more rounded novel than its' predecessor, Love in a Cold Climate is justifiably better known, but reading the Pursuit of Love first does enhance ones' enjoyment. As in the first novel misconceptions that some things are modern inventions, from children's awareness of sex to promiscuity and homosexuality, are disabused. This is a joyous, absorbing and fascinating novel, deserving of its status as a literary classic. - Alex
The property is entailed, and though the heir (an American) has never expressed an interest in the stately home, the Montdore's contact him. In no time Cedric replaces Polly in Lady Montdore's affections - articulate, aesthetic and effete, Cedric manages to revamp her image and brighten her life.
A longer and more rounded novel than its' predecessor, Love in a Cold Climate is justifiably better known, but reading the Pursuit of Love first does enhance ones' enjoyment. As in the first novel misconceptions that some things are modern inventions, from children's awareness of sex to promiscuity and homosexuality, are disabused. This is a joyous, absorbing and fascinating novel, deserving of its status as a literary classic. - Alex
Tuesday, May 19
The Pursuit of Love - Nancy Mitford
Fanny is the daughter of feckless parents - her father was never interested and her mother abandoned her shortly after her birth, in pursuit of another man. Though the children aren't supposed to know it, society refers to her as 'the Bolter.' Fanny was raised by her mother's sister, the gentle and loving Aunt Emily. Life with Aunt Emily was nurturing and supportive, but considerably less exciting than her visits to Alconleigh, the home of her Aunt Sadie, terrifying Uncle Matthew, and her eccentric cousins. Fanny and romantically dramatic Linda are the same age, Louisa is older and relatively well behaved, and close knit Jassy (who saves every penny to run away from home) and Matt add colour. Less prominent are their siblings, Bob, Robin and baby Victoria.
Opening between the Wars, The Pursuit of Love recounts the Radlett children's unique upbringing, which eschews education (particularly for girls) over a good seat and love of the hunt. It offers a fascinating insight into a long-gone era, and introduces some fascinating characters, eccentric, unmistakable and singular. Events then unfurl into the Spanish and Second World wars, ending in 1945. A reminder that nothing really changes, The Pursuit of Love has references to abortion (the Bolter may have bolted often but Fanny's an only child), hunt sabotage, hypochondriasis and dietary fads.
I loved this book and its sequel, Love in a Cold Climate, when I was an adolescent, and fondly remember the mini-series of the same number. This enjoyment was shared by my mother, long a Mitford fan, and still serves as a bond between us. So closely are these elements intertwined with the books themselves that I cannot tell how much of my enjoyment and comprehension comes from these experiences and how much is due to the texts alone.
Fanny is a superb narrator, observing the eccentricities of a very British family from her own conventional (but superficially unconventional) position, alternately admiring and outraged. In the second half of the novel Fanny's focus shifts from the Radlett's as a whole toward the love-oriented Linda, who lurches from one doomed marriage to another. From her own happy marriage to an Oxford don, Fanny thrills and despairs for Linda by turn, each adventure making her more grateful for the stability of her own life. When Fanny sadly tells the Bolter that Linda's last, and also doomed, relationship was with the great love of her life, the novel closes:
A melancholy-tinged joy. - Alex
Opening between the Wars, The Pursuit of Love recounts the Radlett children's unique upbringing, which eschews education (particularly for girls) over a good seat and love of the hunt. It offers a fascinating insight into a long-gone era, and introduces some fascinating characters, eccentric, unmistakable and singular. Events then unfurl into the Spanish and Second World wars, ending in 1945. A reminder that nothing really changes, The Pursuit of Love has references to abortion (the Bolter may have bolted often but Fanny's an only child), hunt sabotage, hypochondriasis and dietary fads.
I loved this book and its sequel, Love in a Cold Climate, when I was an adolescent, and fondly remember the mini-series of the same number. This enjoyment was shared by my mother, long a Mitford fan, and still serves as a bond between us. So closely are these elements intertwined with the books themselves that I cannot tell how much of my enjoyment and comprehension comes from these experiences and how much is due to the texts alone.
Fanny is a superb narrator, observing the eccentricities of a very British family from her own conventional (but superficially unconventional) position, alternately admiring and outraged. In the second half of the novel Fanny's focus shifts from the Radlett's as a whole toward the love-oriented Linda, who lurches from one doomed marriage to another. From her own happy marriage to an Oxford don, Fanny thrills and despairs for Linda by turn, each adventure making her more grateful for the stability of her own life. When Fanny sadly tells the Bolter that Linda's last, and also doomed, relationship was with the great love of her life, the novel closes:
"Oh dulling," said my mother sadly. "One always thinks that. Every, every time."
A melancholy-tinged joy. - Alex
Saturday, April 18
Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
One long, warm summer between the World Wars, the four Walker children - John, Susan, Titty (!) and Roger - sail on the Amazon, a borrowed dinghy, to Wild Cat Island in the middle of a lake and set up camp. They are shocked to discover another boatload of sailors arriving on theor island and determine to oust the pirates, but in short succession they and Peggy and Nancy Blackett are firm friends.
The first in a well-loved series, Swalloss and Amazons describes an idyllic, relatively parent-free untopian kids adventure. There's a spice of danger mixed with the adventure but no real discomfort.
The first in a well-loved series, Swalloss and Amazons describes an idyllic, relatively parent-free untopian kids adventure. There's a spice of danger mixed with the adventure but no real discomfort.
Redolent of the era, there's nonetheless a relative dearth of sexism - Nancy is captain of the Swallow, and thiough Mother is relegated to being little more that a cardboard cutout the same is true of all the adults except 'Captain Flint' - the Blackett's Uncle James.
A great book for kids in the eight to twelve age group, I also suspect Ransom's work is a nostalgic pleasure for returning adult readers. I've long felt as though this was a book I ought to read, and am glad I finally did, but though it was enjoyable I am well past the age where it would resonate, and don't need to read any more of the series. - Alex
Monday, August 18
Three Men on the Bummel - Jerome K Jerome
This sequel to Three Men in a Boat tells of a rambling bicycle trip George, still unmarried, Harris and "I" - sans dog - take through the Black Forest. In typical (judging by the one Jerome I've previously read) style, a variety of misadventures ensue, none of them the fault of any of the travelling party. Like the trip, the novel rambles around, with plenty of digressions in which the narrator tells his impressions of any manner of things - the nature of the German people, how to get one's way when one's wife isn't keen on whatever it is a chap wants to do, the contrary nature of bicycles, why some trips just don't come off, and many others.
The joy of Jerome's writing is his characterisation, and the sly way he manages to convey truths the narrator is unable to perceive himself. It's unfortunate, for the purposes of this review, that most of the best passages are simply too long to include int heir entirety and too well constructed to partially dismember. Highlights for me include a recitation of the narrator's Uncle Podger, who was forever late for work in the mornings because people (quite clearly) hid his belongings before he could leave the house - "whenever he lost a thing it was everybody else's fault in the house but his own... you would have thought he was living surrounded by conjurers, who spirited things away from him merely to irritate him."
Along the journey the reader has marvellous glimpses into the life and outlook of a typical upper middle class at the turn of the last century. In light of subsequent events, the discussion of Germany and her people is particularly interesting, and I was frequently reminded of how tiome poor we are compared to our ancestors a century ago, despite our labour saving devices and higher incomes. Jerome's predecessor is justly better know, but Three Men on the Bummel is a worthy successor on it's own merits. - Alex
The joy of Jerome's writing is his characterisation, and the sly way he manages to convey truths the narrator is unable to perceive himself. It's unfortunate, for the purposes of this review, that most of the best passages are simply too long to include int heir entirety and too well constructed to partially dismember. Highlights for me include a recitation of the narrator's Uncle Podger, who was forever late for work in the mornings because people (quite clearly) hid his belongings before he could leave the house - "whenever he lost a thing it was everybody else's fault in the house but his own... you would have thought he was living surrounded by conjurers, who spirited things away from him merely to irritate him."
Along the journey the reader has marvellous glimpses into the life and outlook of a typical upper middle class at the turn of the last century. In light of subsequent events, the discussion of Germany and her people is particularly interesting, and I was frequently reminded of how tiome poor we are compared to our ancestors a century ago, despite our labour saving devices and higher incomes. Jerome's predecessor is justly better know, but Three Men on the Bummel is a worthy successor on it's own merits. - Alex
Saturday, May 24
The L-Shaped Room - Lynne Reid Banks
Jane Graham is twenty-eight, a former actress with a travelling company, personal assistant for one of the managers at upscale hotel Drummond's, single, and five weeks pregnant. In 1950's England that's scandalous; her relationship with her father, already tense and disapproving, can't withstand the extra pressure and Jane's on her own. She has to decide if she wants to keep the baby and, with few possessions and less money, find a place to live. Jane finds a lodging in a run-down boarding house on a seedy part of town - at the top of five flights of stairs, sharing walls with another lodgers room, dingy, dark and oppressive, Jane believes she deserves no better. But as the weeks pass Jane, and the friends she makes in her new home, begins to transform the space into a haven, and she becomes attached to her little L-shaped room.
This classic of modern literature is a triumph - published in 1960, it captures the sentiments and prejudices of the time, and manages to overturn them. The racism, anti-Semetisism, homophobia, sexism and double standards are skillfully wover into the plot, all the more compelling for the fact that the novel was written contemporaneously with the era it portrays.
Jane is lively and believable, realistic but in some ways naïve to modern eyes, and her evolution is beautiful to watch. I felt a particular engagement with the novel for family reasons - though this is my first reading, The L-Shaped Room is one of my mother's favourite books, and I know my sisters have also enjoyed it.
One of the highlights of Jane's confinement is her aunt Addy, the kind of aunt I hope to be, and the description of her home was so close to my vision of my home when my nephews and nieces are a little older, spoke as though it had been written for me.
A decade after The L-Shaped Room was published I spent my earliest years only a suburb or two away from Fulham, the site of Jane's new home, and one of my sisters lives in Fulham now - I found the contrast between perceptions of the area then (remore, grimy, lower-class, run-down and seedy) and now (expensive, desirable, central) is striking, perhaps more so than the changes in community attitudes. I was also struck by how much more materialistic we are today. I don't know many people who would be happy with a tiny room, communal washing facilities, and a five-storey climb, for a holiday, let alone to live.
This is a beautiful, profound, absorbing and meticulously crafted book that I wholeheartedly recommend. - Alex
This classic of modern literature is a triumph - published in 1960, it captures the sentiments and prejudices of the time, and manages to overturn them. The racism, anti-Semetisism, homophobia, sexism and double standards are skillfully wover into the plot, all the more compelling for the fact that the novel was written contemporaneously with the era it portrays.
Jane is lively and believable, realistic but in some ways naïve to modern eyes, and her evolution is beautiful to watch. I felt a particular engagement with the novel for family reasons - though this is my first reading, The L-Shaped Room is one of my mother's favourite books, and I know my sisters have also enjoyed it.
One of the highlights of Jane's confinement is her aunt Addy, the kind of aunt I hope to be, and the description of her home was so close to my vision of my home when my nephews and nieces are a little older, spoke as though it had been written for me.
A decade after The L-Shaped Room was published I spent my earliest years only a suburb or two away from Fulham, the site of Jane's new home, and one of my sisters lives in Fulham now - I found the contrast between perceptions of the area then (remore, grimy, lower-class, run-down and seedy) and now (expensive, desirable, central) is striking, perhaps more so than the changes in community attitudes. I was also struck by how much more materialistic we are today. I don't know many people who would be happy with a tiny room, communal washing facilities, and a five-storey climb, for a holiday, let alone to live.
This is a beautiful, profound, absorbing and meticulously crafted book that I wholeheartedly recommend. - Alex
Monday, February 11
Farenheit 451 – Ray Brandbury
In a world where fictional books are forbidden because they cause discord and unhappiness, where possession of them is a crime, Guy Montag’s uniform is decorated with the numbers 451, a symbol of his office, for that is the temperature (Farenheit) at which paper burns. Guy is a fireman – his job is to burn those books that remain. Until the day one flutters toward him, half open, and he uccumbs to reading the contents.
I don’t know what I ought to be more embarrassed by – that I hadn’t read this literary classic until now, or that I don’t get what the big deal is. To me, Farenheit 451 is a fairly unexceptional piece of mid-fifties science fiction, replete with all the hallmarks – the novel is slender in size and scope, an all-male main cast with paper cutouts for female characters, an original central idea that isn’t well-supported (the novel doesn’t explicitly say that it’s only fiction, and poetry, and religious works, that are banned, but there must be some writing around because Guy’s literate), and a missing back story – how we went from being a literate globe to one where the written word is banned everywhere.
These are flaws common to much of the writing in the so-called Golden Age of science fiction. But compared to another popular classic, Pierre Boulle’s Planet of the Apes, for instance, Farenheit 451 falls short. Like that book, Planet of the Apes is slender, the transformation of the world is unexplained (though there are hints), the female characters are less present and fully realised than the males, and the basic concept isn’t wholly supported. But the writing is compelling, the characters relatable, and the twist – if you haven’t already been exposed to the film – is unexpected.
Guy’s transition from fireman to protector of books isn’t well explained, and though we see the transformative moment, it transpires that he has a sizeable collection of books at home. He also has no concept of human nature or the ingrained nature of societal mores, so he exposes himself to his wife and her friends in a way that made no sense at all to me.
I’m sure that, at the time it was written, the radical idea, the warning of the potential for television to bring everyone down to the lowest median, and the well-imagined technology (most of which currently exists) was compelling. But my overwhelming thought when reading this was that it could have been so much better – with fully fleshed characters, a decent backstory and explicit motivation, this may truly have been worthy. Without that I don’t understand how it’s retained its allure when so much better imagined writing in the genre is unacclaimed, and when the genre itself is so derided. I’m glad I read it, so I no longer feel a nagging sense that I Should read it, but I can’t see a need to return. - Alex
I don’t know what I ought to be more embarrassed by – that I hadn’t read this literary classic until now, or that I don’t get what the big deal is. To me, Farenheit 451 is a fairly unexceptional piece of mid-fifties science fiction, replete with all the hallmarks – the novel is slender in size and scope, an all-male main cast with paper cutouts for female characters, an original central idea that isn’t well-supported (the novel doesn’t explicitly say that it’s only fiction, and poetry, and religious works, that are banned, but there must be some writing around because Guy’s literate), and a missing back story – how we went from being a literate globe to one where the written word is banned everywhere.
These are flaws common to much of the writing in the so-called Golden Age of science fiction. But compared to another popular classic, Pierre Boulle’s Planet of the Apes, for instance, Farenheit 451 falls short. Like that book, Planet of the Apes is slender, the transformation of the world is unexplained (though there are hints), the female characters are less present and fully realised than the males, and the basic concept isn’t wholly supported. But the writing is compelling, the characters relatable, and the twist – if you haven’t already been exposed to the film – is unexpected.
Guy’s transition from fireman to protector of books isn’t well explained, and though we see the transformative moment, it transpires that he has a sizeable collection of books at home. He also has no concept of human nature or the ingrained nature of societal mores, so he exposes himself to his wife and her friends in a way that made no sense at all to me.
I’m sure that, at the time it was written, the radical idea, the warning of the potential for television to bring everyone down to the lowest median, and the well-imagined technology (most of which currently exists) was compelling. But my overwhelming thought when reading this was that it could have been so much better – with fully fleshed characters, a decent backstory and explicit motivation, this may truly have been worthy. Without that I don’t understand how it’s retained its allure when so much better imagined writing in the genre is unacclaimed, and when the genre itself is so derided. I’m glad I read it, so I no longer feel a nagging sense that I Should read it, but I can’t see a need to return. - Alex
Thursday, December 27
King Matt the First – Janusz Korczak
His mother died a couple of years ago, and Matt is devastated to learn that his father is also going to die, in just a few days. Though Matt is still a boy, he’s the only son of a dying king and is therefore going to be Head of State, much to the consternation of the ministers. They think they can handle and run the kingdom themselves, but Matt wants to do things himself, make sure the children are represented, and have a friend.
This classic of children’s literature (which I had never heard of and stumbled across by complete accident) portrays the adventures of a child in over his head – Matt’s age provokes an invasion by three other kings, and Matt decides to see what the fighting’s about by running away from the palace and serving in the army; he builds candy factories and zoos, at the expense of defence; he makes friends with cannibals in Africa but upsets the neighbouring kings; and his decision to let children run everything while adults go back to school results in horrendous upheaval.
The novel was first published in the author’s homeland, Poland, in the 1930’s, and the paediatrician and teacher was a great defender of children – at the cost of his own life he escorted his own children’s army, the residents of an orphanage in Warsaw, to a Treblinka-bound train in 1942, saying “You do not leave a sick child in the night, and you do not leave children in a time like this.”
The book is a perplexing combination of fantasy and grim reality – no child reading this would think war is glamorous, and Matt is isolated, betrayed, and exhausted even when he rules. The pressures of leadership, and the difficulty of seeing consequences are well portrayed, but I was unsure what age this was aimed at, or even what its point was, and the abrupt and unsatisfactory ending left me more annoyed than anything. - Alex.
This classic of children’s literature (which I had never heard of and stumbled across by complete accident) portrays the adventures of a child in over his head – Matt’s age provokes an invasion by three other kings, and Matt decides to see what the fighting’s about by running away from the palace and serving in the army; he builds candy factories and zoos, at the expense of defence; he makes friends with cannibals in Africa but upsets the neighbouring kings; and his decision to let children run everything while adults go back to school results in horrendous upheaval.
The novel was first published in the author’s homeland, Poland, in the 1930’s, and the paediatrician and teacher was a great defender of children – at the cost of his own life he escorted his own children’s army, the residents of an orphanage in Warsaw, to a Treblinka-bound train in 1942, saying “You do not leave a sick child in the night, and you do not leave children in a time like this.”
The book is a perplexing combination of fantasy and grim reality – no child reading this would think war is glamorous, and Matt is isolated, betrayed, and exhausted even when he rules. The pressures of leadership, and the difficulty of seeing consequences are well portrayed, but I was unsure what age this was aimed at, or even what its point was, and the abrupt and unsatisfactory ending left me more annoyed than anything. - Alex.
Sunday, December 2
A Rag, a Bone and a Hank of Hair – Nicholas Fisk
Some decades after a nuclear accident it becomes apparent that humanity is in trouble – fewer and fewer children are being born, not nearly enough to replace the death rate. As a result, young people are pampered, nurtured and cherished. Reared in group homes, to maximise their well-being, they are the hope of the twenty second century. Smarter than average, more self-directed, a fast learner, Brin is the best and brightest, and he knows it. When he’s taken to the Council of the Western Seniors Elect he’s neither surprised nor overawed – it makes sense that they would want his input.
Everyone’s heard rumours about the Reborn – people generated from the genetic material of the dead – but they’re just rumours. At least, that’s what Brin thinks, until he learns that the Seniors want him to observe and interact with a group of Reborns – siblings Brian and Mavis, and their housekeeper Mrs Mossop. Because they have to be made from pre-accident material, and because the shock of trauma of bringing them straight to the present time, the Reborn believe it’s November 1940, and as they have no substantive memory, each evening they return to their boxes and each day they return to the kitchen that’s the only part of the house that was able to be faithfully recreated in all period-appropriate detail.
The more time Brin spends with the Reborn the more sympathetic he is to them, and the more he comes to realise that they’re not as static as the Seniors believe. Brian is particular is becoming impatient and wants to go outside, and is less and less willing to be distracted by the stories of Brin’s fighter-pilot uncle. Then Brin’s uncle appears, and everything in the 1940’s house changes.
Brin’s arc from cocky, valued and pampered youth to a more worldly-wise and rebellious youth is beautifully done, and his voice is distinctive throughout. Fisk is very good at creating atmosphere and suspense, generating an adolescent’s view of the world, and imbuing the mundane with sinister overtones; in perhaps his best known work, Grinny, the wolf amonst the sheep is an old lady that only the children can see through. In A Rag, A Bone… the domesticity is more foreign and the danger more occult.
I first read this novel about twenty-five years ago, and had a very clear memory of the shocking twist near the end, though the actually ending and many other details were more vague. Given the length of time and the literally thousands of books I’ve read since then, that already says something about the quality of the writing. – Alex
Everyone’s heard rumours about the Reborn – people generated from the genetic material of the dead – but they’re just rumours. At least, that’s what Brin thinks, until he learns that the Seniors want him to observe and interact with a group of Reborns – siblings Brian and Mavis, and their housekeeper Mrs Mossop. Because they have to be made from pre-accident material, and because the shock of trauma of bringing them straight to the present time, the Reborn believe it’s November 1940, and as they have no substantive memory, each evening they return to their boxes and each day they return to the kitchen that’s the only part of the house that was able to be faithfully recreated in all period-appropriate detail.
The more time Brin spends with the Reborn the more sympathetic he is to them, and the more he comes to realise that they’re not as static as the Seniors believe. Brian is particular is becoming impatient and wants to go outside, and is less and less willing to be distracted by the stories of Brin’s fighter-pilot uncle. Then Brin’s uncle appears, and everything in the 1940’s house changes.
Brin’s arc from cocky, valued and pampered youth to a more worldly-wise and rebellious youth is beautifully done, and his voice is distinctive throughout. Fisk is very good at creating atmosphere and suspense, generating an adolescent’s view of the world, and imbuing the mundane with sinister overtones; in perhaps his best known work, Grinny, the wolf amonst the sheep is an old lady that only the children can see through. In A Rag, A Bone… the domesticity is more foreign and the danger more occult.
I first read this novel about twenty-five years ago, and had a very clear memory of the shocking twist near the end, though the actually ending and many other details were more vague. Given the length of time and the literally thousands of books I’ve read since then, that already says something about the quality of the writing. – Alex
Thursday, November 22
Three Men and a Boat - Jerome K Jerome
J. (our narrator) and his friends George and Harris, to say nothing of the dog, journey up the Thames for a glorious holiday in mid-summer. Well provisioned,and with some experience of boating, they are nonetheless unprepared for a veritable cavalcade of misadventures - tow ropes that coil wilfully, confounded steam launches, and unopenable tins of pineapple.
This is my first reading of Three Men and a Boat; I was initially attracted, many years ago, by the author's name, but took it no further. Last year I read Connie Willis's lovely To Say Nothing of the Dog, which was inspired by the classic, and which inspired me to read a book I've since discovered is one of my mother's favourites.
Though first published over a century and a quarter ago, this classic novel of the late 1880's has weathered well, chiefly thanks to the timeless voice of J., whose dry observation on human nature illustrate how little people have changed, for all the change in our way of life. As I was reading it I (as is my wont of late) flagged passages that I might use to illustrate the style and voice of the writing. But Jerome's writing is all of a piece, so that rather than identifying a particular line or phrase, the enjoyment comes from a whole scene and from the characters. Although I do have one gem to offer: "That's Harris all over - so ready to take the burden of everything himself, and put it on other people's shoulders."
I did have two small issues - the first is that the novel is to short; the second was the annotation in my edition, by a Jeremy Lewis, who picked picayune things to comment on (like "We played at penny nap half the afternoon" - says Lewis "penny nap is a card game", something I was able to pick up from the context, but thanks anyway). Still, one can avoid end notes, and next time I visit the river, circa 1889, I will do just that. - Alex
This is my first reading of Three Men and a Boat; I was initially attracted, many years ago, by the author's name, but took it no further. Last year I read Connie Willis's lovely To Say Nothing of the Dog, which was inspired by the classic, and which inspired me to read a book I've since discovered is one of my mother's favourites.
Though first published over a century and a quarter ago, this classic novel of the late 1880's has weathered well, chiefly thanks to the timeless voice of J., whose dry observation on human nature illustrate how little people have changed, for all the change in our way of life. As I was reading it I (as is my wont of late) flagged passages that I might use to illustrate the style and voice of the writing. But Jerome's writing is all of a piece, so that rather than identifying a particular line or phrase, the enjoyment comes from a whole scene and from the characters. Although I do have one gem to offer: "That's Harris all over - so ready to take the burden of everything himself, and put it on other people's shoulders."
I did have two small issues - the first is that the novel is to short; the second was the annotation in my edition, by a Jeremy Lewis, who picked picayune things to comment on (like "We played at penny nap half the afternoon" - says Lewis "penny nap is a card game", something I was able to pick up from the context, but thanks anyway). Still, one can avoid end notes, and next time I visit the river, circa 1889, I will do just that. - Alex
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