A Work in Progress

Wild Life by Molly Gloss

So I've just finished reading Wild Life by Molly Gloss and am feeling a little ambivalent about it.  On the one hand it is a well written and thought-provoking story with a wonderfully independent heroine (I like smart female characters who show a little moxie), but on the other I thought I would never finish the book (and it is quite short--about 250 pages).  It is the latest reading choice of the Slaves of Golconda, and I was very excited about the story.  One of the reasons I enjoy readalongs (though my track record of late with the Slaves has been a little spotty) is being able to widen my reading horizons and read books that may well be outside my normal comfort zone.  Wild Life is a novel that crosses genres as there is a sci-fi/fantasy slant to the story, and in this case it also deals with gender issues as well.  There is a certain amount of stretching of the imagination needed in the story, but I don't mind that really.  So, what's not to like right? 

The story is presented as a series of journal entries by Charlotte Bridger Drummond, a feminist and freethinking woman living with her five sons in the Pacific Northwest in the early years of the 20th century.  Charlotte's husband left one day on the ferry never to return.  She could avoid the stigma of being an abandoned wife by claiming one of the bodies that frequently washes ashore but prefers to think of her husband alive somewhere and happy rather than drowned and dead.  She doesn't manage too badly on her own, however, as she pens dimestore novels of spunky heroines who get caught up in wild adventures.  She likes to think she might be the natural successor to her idol Jules Verne, but she realizes her work crosses the line from serious to marketable. 

Charlotte spends most of her time, as much as she can anyway, either writing or reading, which is no easy task considering the number of literary and scientific journals that arrive on the ferry every month.  Not a fan of cooking or cleaning and with a rather elastic sense of motherly guidance she leaves the more mundane domestic duties up to her housekeeper, Melba.

"My personal belief if that a woman's worth doesn't lie in the cleanliness of her house; and at the commencement of each of Melba's absences I always am determined on principle, to let the housekeeping pile up.  It is Melba's belief, though, that a woman who neglects her home is unnatural, an abnormity more horrible than Frankenstein's monster, and on her return there is a particular look she will give me as she surveys the disorder."

When Melba's granddaughter goes missing from one of the logging camps her father very foolishly brought her to, Charlotte is determined to not only travel there to discover the circumstances of her disappearance (by the time word makes its way from wilderness to the town it is stretched completely out of shape and distorted) but also to give a hand in the search as well.  Charlotte isn't just determined but she is downright stubborn.  She is an unapologetic intellectual who is sure she can succeed where others have failed.  But several days into the search, she also gets separated from the group and even her trusty compass can't help her find her way back so completely turned around does she become.

At first she is sure she can catch up with the group of searchers, but as the days pass, her food runs out and she becomes cold and wet, her hope dwindles.  Alone and afraid she senses she is being watched and realizes she is not alone in the wilderness.  Literally at the end of her tether she latches on to a family of, I'm not sure what to call them--creatures that are much larger than humans but not too far removed from them either.  They have their own language, so are unable to communicate, and while they are somewhat wary of each other they eventually allow Charlotte to tag along until she becomes almost one of them.

Interspersed in the narrative/journal entries are snippets from Charlotte's writing, both her stories and feminist musings, as well as sketches of the various characters (both primary and secondary characters of the story) and also included are quotes from authors and Native American folk tales.  Taken together it creates a mosaic of sorts throwing light on different aspects of the story.  These diversions become meditations on 19th century life, not exclusively of the West but certainly particular to it.  She asks the reader (in however roundabout way) to consider many different things--the role of women in society, preservation versus the necessity of the logging industry, how animals are treated and what it means to be humane.

"I wonder if we might more easily become like animals than animals become like humans.  As a species, we human beings seem no longer fitted for life in the wilderness--have been weakened by centuries of civilized life--but there may yet be something inherent in our natures, some potentiality which wants only the right circumstance to return us to the raw edge of Wildness."

I feel like I should be in love with this story.  Charlotte is a remarkable, if fallible, woman.  She dresses like a man when she needs to, rides a bicycle and when asked if she needs a light (she smokes an occasional cigar) replies she never takes a light from a man.  She's smart and ever ready with a quick quip, which rolls smoothly off her tongue (there were loads of wonderful lines I could have shared!).  Gloss vividly describes the Pacific Northwest, making it sound lush and beautiful and creates an intriguing picture of a vast wilderness--one where you can walk for days and never see anyone else (do places like that still exist here outside of state parks?).  For the first two thirds of the story I was totally engaged and knowing that Charlotte would become lost in the wilderness I couldn't wait for that part of the story to arrive, but once it did I think I became frustrated by the many diversions and meanderings.  I like that she pushes boundaries and asks hard questions, but for me it also broke up the flow of the story making me feel like I was plodding along.

I'm still glad I read the book and think I will try The Jump-Off Creek by Gloss at some point, which is handily available at my library.  Wild Life won the 2000 James Tiptree, Jr. Award.  You can read more reviews of the book here or join in the discussion here.

A Neverending Parade of Library Books

I was going to stop sharing my library finds so often, but here I go once again--with yet another new pile, but I was so excited about them I couldn't resist.  That thumping sound that was heard not so very long ago has been replaced by a swish, swish as I pull books off my library's bookshelves.  Now I know that I am not the only serious library user out there, but I do sometimes wonder if I am the most obsessed one?  Best not to think about these things.

I was chatting with someone recently about E.M. Delafield and she recommended When Women Love, published in Britain as Three Marriages.  My library has only two of her many novels, and as I have read one and am reading the other I turned to the ever-handy ILL department to see if I could track this one down.  I must say Mondays are always easier at work when I get notification that one of my ILL requests has arrived.  When Women Love was published in 1938 and contains three novellas (well am guessing they are novellas/short stories), which are variations on a theme.  The stories included are "The Wedding of Rose Barlow (1857)", "Girl-of-the-Period (1897)", and "We Meant to be Happy (1937)".   I wonder if any of the marriages in the novel are happy ones?

I was doubly lucky as I also received Andrea Maria Schenkel's Ice Cold via ILL today, too.  I really liked The Murder Farm and as her novels are fairly short thought I could easily squeeze in another this year still.  There's an inverse process going on here...I think the more I try and not buy books the more I end up borrowing them.  Some day I am going to not buy them or borrow them and read what I own.  Imagine.  Ice Cold is set in Munich in the 1930s where young women are being murdered.  The story has a similar set up to The Murder Farm and will likely accompany me to the gym.  The story sounds a little bleak but in a well-lit and slightly noisy gym I think it will hold my attention nicely.

Vera Brittain's Honourable Estate has been on my wishlist for years.  I've never gotten around to buying it, but then why bother when my library has this lovely copy?  I actually grabbed Brittain's Letters from a Lost Generation first and then took a walk over to the fiction area to see which novels we owned by her.  The letters are from WWI and were written by Vera, her brother, her fiancé and two other close friends.  All four men died in the war.  Honourable Estate is Brittain's second novel about three generations of married couples--more variation on a theme it would seem.

And Rodin's Debutante by Ward Just is an impulse choice.  I wanted to read it earlier and was thinking that a story with an academic setting sounded appealing.  I also love the cover illustration, but that's neither here nor there since we remove our dust jackets at my library.  I've never read Ward Just, but I think I'll like him.   

Now a request.  I rarely read lough out loud funny novels.  I'm not even sure I own any.  It isn't that I don't want to, but I never seem to come across them.  I was thinking how heavy and dark some of the books I've been reading lately are and with the shorter days (I go to work in the dark and return home in the dark) and cold weather I think I need something bright and cheery to lift my mood.  I was thinking maybe it's time to dig out one of my P.G. Wodehouse novels.  Suggestions welcome.  Prefer novels but I am happy with nonfiction as well.  Thanks in advance.

Reading Pairs: Bombed Cities

I have another set of reading pairs for you:  The Silent Angel by Heinrich Böll and Coventry by Helen Humphreys.  Now I must admit I am basing this not on my experience of having read the novels but rather on the story descriptions and things I've heard about other readers' experiences.  I've only just started reading the Böll for Caroline's Literature and War Readalong (handy also to get in another German author this month, too).  You can read her thoughts on the book here, and I hope to be able to catch up on the discussion very soon.

Both books are set either during or right after WWII.  Where the books cross paths is in their physical setting--the bombed out, devastated cities of Cologne and Coventry.  In The Silent Angel, the story begins with a soldier entering a damaged hospital looking for the widow of one of his former comrades.  It's obvious the soldier is absent without leave, hungry and a little afraid.

"Everything was quiet and dark upstairs as well, except for the calm and somewhat paler blue color of the clouds wherever the sky could be seen.  The entire left wing of the large building was blocked off by dangling sections of concrete.  Through gaps he could see gloomy, devastated rooms, iron beams aslant, and he smelled the damp repulsive rubble."

I have read a couple of Helen Humphreys earlier novels (alas in pre-blogging days) and am looking forward to reading Coventry.  In November of 1940 Coventry was heavily bombed, much of the city including the famous Cathedral was destroyed.  I read that over 500 German bombers took part in the raid, which I find totally unimaginable and have a hard time wrapping my mind around such a horror (and I suspect there were similar raids in a number of European cities during the war causing just as much devastation).  The story within the novel is fiction, but it is dropped into the actual historical event.  I suspect that is partially why I've put off reading it.

"In a story of breathtaking beauty, Helen Humphreys captures brilliantly the terror of one of the most infamous bombing raids of the Second World War.  As firestorms sweep through Coventry, scenes of unspeakable devastation unfold.  Horses run through the streets; birds burn as they fly; historic buildings, including the cathedral, collapse; people are buried alive beneath the rubble."

I could easily add another book to this set--Rose Macaulay's The World My Wilderness, which I read earlier this fall.  It's set in post-WWII London and the ruins of the city is where the heroine of the story feels most at home.  It's another story with a somewhat surreal setting that creates very powerful imagery and an atmospheric backdrop.     

A Classics Challenge 2012

I can't resist the temptation.  And if I have to succumb to temptation at least it includes reading classic literature (all from my own stacks by the way).  By and large I have given up on joining reading challenges as I generally make a list of books I want to read (and I do always really want to read them) and then promptly forget about the list and move on to something new.  However, since I am very much in the mood lately to read classics, and I am planning on reading more of them next year anyway, this seems like a good way to stay motivated.

The challenge is hosted by Katherine from November's Autumn and the idea is simple--to read seven Classics over the course of the year.  Each month on the 4th Katherine will provide a prompt/question on her blog that participants will answer.  The idea is to link back to her post/prompt and then follow the responses of the other participants in a sort of blog hop.

While rereads are allowed, the idea is to read several new Classics as well.  So now comes the hard part...which to choose?  My list is going to remain somewhat fluid.  These seven books sound very appealing at the moment, but halfway into 2012 I might want something entirely different.  These books are the pool I'll be drawing from initially and I'll go from there as the year progresses (what a thought...2012!).  My list started out twice as long, and it was hard to narrow it down to a mere seven, but here they are:

In Chancery by John Galsworthy -- Last year I read The Man of Property, the first book in Galsworthy's The Forsyte Saga (which is made up of a total of nine books), which I found very addicting but haven't had a chance to get back to.  I'm very ready to get back to Galsworthy's books and am excited to pick this one up soon.

Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy -- I've only ever read Tess of the d'Urbervilles, and bleak as it was, I want to read more of Hardy's novels.  I do like his writing only I think he's someone best taken in small doses.

The Custom of the Country by Edith Wharton -- Nobody writes about the upper crust of Old New York quite like Wharton does.  And while I have heard many things about the spoiled and selfish Undine Spragg, I can't wait to find out for myself just what her story is.

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley -- And for something a little different.  I've long wanted to read this book.  I expect this is a story that will resonate very strongly even today. 

The Drinking Den by Emile Zola -- My first taste of Zola was Therese Raquin and it left me wanting more.  I know this is one of his novels in the Rougon-Macquart series.  I'm not sure if it matters in what order the books are read, but this one appeals to me.  I am also considering The Ladies Paradise...decisions, decisions.

The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas -- Ooh, swordplay.  Need I say more?  I count Dumas's The Count of Monte Cristo as one of my all time favorite books.  I know it is long.  Really long.  He does go off on tangents, but darn if I don't love that story.  I fully expect to love this one as well.  When the new Richard Pevear translation came out I had to have it--even though it was in hardcover.  As every book must get its day, surely it's going to be Dumas's day.

Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery -- I am probably one of the few people never to have read any of the Anne of Green Gables books.  I even have a lovely Modern Library edition and think it will balance some of the other heavy-duty stories out a little bit. 

I tried to vary my books a little, though I see both books that are translated are French novels.  I'm top heavy with male writers.  And only one American and one Canadian novel.  There'll hopefully be plenty of time to include other books during the year, but best not to get ahead of myself!

I still plan on finishing this year out with Jane Austen's Emma and I'm halfway through Esther by Henry Adams, which I hope to finish very soon--so perhaps I won't end the year too badly when it comes to reading Classics, but I hope to do better next year.  Usually I make a list of a dozen or so books I want to read each year, but I think I'll use this one in lieu of any other list.  January 4 is not so very far away, so I will have to consider making a start on one of these soon...

The Reading Woman (& Holiday Wishes)

"Woman Reading", by Adrian Paul Allinson (1890-1959), 1940, Waterman Fine Art Ltd, London

I was going to look for a suitably appropriate picture in honor of Thanksgiving, but as not everyone who drops by here will be celebrating the holiday and I couldn't find a reading woman sitting at table while eating her turkey and stuffing (or vegan enchiladas as the case may be!), I opted for this very pretty picture.  I'd say there is plenty of bounty to be thankful for here as well--a book, a window with a view (I'd love a garden like that), and a sunny day.  I call that bliss and would have a contented look on my face, too.  Anyone want to hazard a guess as to what she is reading?  Nice, big thick book....Wilkie Collins maybe?  No Name?  Okay, maybe that would be me (I've picked my copy back up again, by the way).

If you happen to be celebrating the holiday, I hope you have a very happy and safe day.  I'll be spending it with my family and doing my best to keep the calorie count well (well, well!) down.  If you aren't celebrating I hope you have a sunny, book-filled day.  I'll be back on Sunday with more bookish adventures.

Happy reading all!

November 22: Reading Notes

"Shuffle, shuffle."  That would be the sound of me revamping my current reads pile yet once more (it's an ongoing process, I'm afraid).  "Thump, thump."  That would be the sound of a rather large stack of library books being deposited into the book drop (you might want to add a few more thumps to that list...there were a lot of books). 

It's always a little painful to return unread library books.  Not only are they heavy to carry on that long walk to the bus stop, but I know that I'll just end up checking them out again later in the hopes of being able to read them at a more opportune time.  But things had gotten a little out of control and I was feeling overwhelmed.  You see I am already anticipating my upcoming holiday/winter break.  And while it is still a number of weeks off I'm already contemplating long stretches of uninterrupted reading time.  I do this every year, of course.  I never manage to read everything I want to, but I can dream, right? 

So now that I have things reorganized a bit more to my tastes, I think I have the books that will see me through not only the end of the month but the end of the year as well.  Vacation books are something else entirely and I will save my list to share later.  And then I might just possibly consider a few things to read next year, though my plan is to not have any plans.  (Famous last words). 

I'll be finishing several books this month for a few readalongs (well, I hope I will anyway) and am still working on a few novels for the German Literature Month.  But I've added a few other books to my pile that have been clamoring for attention.  Yes, really, clamoring.  Don't your books call out to you?  I've tried ear plugs, but they can really get loud sometimes.  It's when they start jumping off shelves like a herd of lemmings to get your attention that you need to worry.

You'll be happy to hear these books have all been patient and well mannered.  I really like Elizabeth Jane Howard's work.  Quite a while ago I read the first three books in her Cazalet Chronicles.  I always meant to go back and read the fourth volume, but time seemed to slip away and it never happened.  Then a couple of years ago I thought I'd give them all another go, read the first book and then never managed to read any of the others.  Guess what I'm going to do now?  I've already started my third read of The Light Years, which follows the Cazalet family through the years before, during and just after WWII.  I really love these books and am looking forward to spending time with them (and actually reading the fourth book in this go).  The books have been compared to The Forsyte Saga, Upstairs/Downstairs and The Shell Seekers, so how could I miss since I call all of those favorites as well.  The Light Years begins in 1937.  It's very easy, entertaining reading, but smartly done as well.  I had planned to read this over the holidays but then decided why wait, since I am in the mood for it now!

I didn't return all my library books.  I decided that E.M. Delafield's Consequences was just what I needed.  I'm very much in the mood for a Persephone story, and E.M. Delafield is always good.  Consequences, written in 1919, is about "the plight of girls given no opportunities apart from marriage."  It sounds much more serious than the Provincial Lady, but serious is good, too. 

And from my own stacks, I've pulled out a novel I have long, long wanted to read--The Outcast by Sadie Jones.  It was a finalist for the Orange Prize a few years back.  As I seem to be collecting her books I thought maybe I should read one of them?  The story is set in postwar Britain that sounds both suspenseful and dramatic.  

Jonathan Yardley's Second Reading: Notable and Neglected Books Revisited has been sitting on the shelf below my night table since I received it.  I shared a teaser in the summer and then meant to dip into it regularly, but it mostly sat there looking inviting.  So I pulled it off the shelf and started reading and am now hooked.  The book is comprised of essays about neglected books (and I like neglected books).  The essays are very short--I can easily read one during my break at work and he writes about all sorts of books.  At first I thought I would skip the essays for books that didn't seem to appeal to me, but I like Yardley's writing style so much, I've decided it doesn't matter if I end up looking for the book or not.  For example, I'm not all that drawn to W.C. Fields, but Yardley writes about him in such an interesting and humorous way.  And he folds into his essay not just facts about a forgotten book but about biographies in general, so I feel like I am learning other interesting facts as well.  My intention is to just read one essay a day.  I'm in no hurry to finish the book.  I thought it would make for perfect bedtime reading as I can usually only manage a few pages before drifting off to sleep these days.

Forgive the silly tone of my post.  Can you tell I am giddy at the prospect of having five whole days off from work?   I may not be posting for the rest of the week as it is already so quiet around here, but I do have loads of online reading to catch up on.  I always feel terrible when I fall behind on blog reading and emails. I may not have been out and about much lately, but I have been saving up posts on Google Reader and will be tackling them soon--and looking forward to seeing what everyone else has been reading!

Journey Into the Past by Stefan Zweig

I really love Stefan Zweig's writing.  It's simple yet eloquent and manages to convey intense meaning.  I've been so impressed by his work, having so far read The Post Office Girl and Beware of Pity, both being exceptional reads.  It's taken me a while to pick up another book, in this case one of his later novellas, Journey Into the Past, but it's equally as remarkable and reminds me there are some authors who really should be shuffled to the top of the reading pile.  Very briefly this is a story of two lovers separated by time and distance and when once again are reunited must determine whether their initial longing survives or has been blunted by circumstances beyond their control.

I know a work should stand on its own, but in the case of Stefan Zweig, knowing something about him really enriches the reading of his books.  In the 1920s and 30s he was a popular and successful writer not just in Europe but abroad as well.  Austrian by birth he came of age and was actively writing during a hugely fertile period in the arts and sciences.  He was a contemporary and admirer of Freud and surely this must have informed his writing as there is always so much psychological insight to his characters' thoughts and motivations.  According to the novel's translator, Anthea Bell, "An interest in exploring the interaction of mind, heart and body seems to have been in the air of Vienna at the time".  

Zweig was an idealist and a pacifist and his strongly held ideas became even more fervent by the end of the First World War.  Bell notes that while Zweig's personal life didn't influence his fiction, his beliefs do strongly come through in his writing most certainly in Journey Into the Past, which he began working on around 1924.  By 1933 when Hitler became Chancellor Zweig knew which way the winds were blowing.  He wrote to a friend, "My dear friend, I reply to you today, on May 10th...when my books burn on the bonfire in Berlin outside the University, where I once spoke about you to an audience of a thousand."  Shortly thereafter he emigrated.  He lived first in England, then in the US and finally settled in Brazil.  Very sadly he and his second wife committed suicide in 1942.

"Many people now surmise, for instance Clive James in his clear and useful essay on Zweig as a cultural cosmopolitan, that he despaired because the old, civilized world of a pan-European culture, in which he had been so much at home, seemed lost already in a time of new barbarism, and while the Nazis might lose the war itself, they had already, as James puts it, 'won the war that mattered'."

I can't help but mention something about his biography (though I know I've already talked a little about it and others have shared very insightful posts about him), but I find it not only extremely fascinating but also unbearably sad as well.

In Journey Into the Past Ludwig is a poor tutor who is offered the job of private secretary to a wealthy industrialist.  He rebuffs Councillor G's proposal that he should come and live with his family as he feels a sense of shame from his childhood spent in poverty.  He doesn't want to be a nameless somebody stuck between upstairs and downstairs, but eventually thanks to the failing health of the Councillor he relents.  He falls for the Councillor's wife who is kind to him and makes him feel at ease and soon discovers that his feelings of attraction are reciprocated. 

When the Councillor asks him to travel to Mexico to direct a company there which will mine an important ore that has been discovered, he is at first flattered and eager to go, but it means separation from the woman he now loves.  No time can be lost and he must leave immediately as the discovery is so lucrative and can make not only the Councillor richer but Ludwig, too.  So Ludwig agrees.  It will only be for two years, which surely will be bearable.  And then war breaks out and neither Ludwig nor his letters may cross the ocean.  And then nine years later Ludwig finally has a chance to return to Germany.  Life has in all ways continued, but he finds his passion has still not waned for this woman.

I won't say more about the story and whether the two find their own happily ever after, but leave it up to you to read the story yourself.  This is the second book I've read this month translated by Anthea Bell, who I think is a really marvelous translator.  Happily she has translated a number of books by Zweig including Fear, which I am hoping to read this month as well.  I found a really interesting interview with her here.  As I was reading her afterword, and she was discussing the historical environment in which the book is set, she talks about the nuances she must be aware of and her translations must reflect them.  She also talks about this aspect of her work in the interview.  I've always thought a good translation is one where I can't tell the book has been translated and she mentions that as well.  She calls Zweig's writing style both meticulous and condensed, which makes his books a challenge to translate.  She certainly does an admirable job in her translations of getting everything just right.

"You read him in the original, and on the surface everything is limpid, lucid; then you start translating him, and you have to think hard about what exactly lies below the wording of every sentence."

I was a little disappointed to realize that I have both of Zweig's longer works behind me and now what is left (at least of his fiction) is only novellas and short stories.  I am assured however, in the foreword, that Zweig is actually a master of the conte--"the tale told by word of mouth or letter".  If Journey Into the Past is anything to go by, I think I am in for many little treats.  Both Pushkin Press and NYRB Classics have been reissuing Stefan Zweig's books.  I read Journey Into the Past as part of the German Literature Month. 

Effi Briest Readalong, Part Three

I've finished reading Theodor Fontane's Effi Briest, and the last section went much smoother than the last part.  I just gave myself up to the story and didn't worry about trying to read for deeper meaning.  Well, poor Effi certainly ranks up there with Emma Bovary and Anna Karenina--just as tragic an ending though perhaps not quite so dramatically presented.  Lizzy has provided this week's questions.

The questions deal with the latter half of the plot and motivations and outcomes, so do beware if you've not read this and would like to. 

Why do you think Effi kept Crampas's letters?

I've been wondering about this since they are so significant.  Had she burned them or thrown them away, she would not have been cast out.  She felt so guilty over the affair, though the guilt had more to do with not feeling as guilty over her actions as she should have than remorse for her behavior.  She was looking for warmth and affection from someone, so perhaps she couldn't quite bear to part with them and how the affair made her feel?

Did Instetten have a choice?

I think he did, but at the time he probably didn't think so.  He was such an upright and honorable man, yet he couldn't give Effi, his beloved wife, a break.  He stood by the letter of the law--society's standard of how a woman should act, rather than letting it all go and fade away.  He says if it were a matter of living in isolation he could let it go, but that they are all part of a larger whole and they must have regard for that larger whole.  It would have been so easy for him, though--the affair occurred seven years prior to finding the letters, which is practically ancient history.  In the end he seemed to regret it as it didn't seem to buy him anything and he felt only emptiness.

Are there any events in this final section that make you feel outraged?  Is that how Fontane wants you to feel?

Yes, outrage over Instetten's choice to duel with Crampas, kill him and then turn his wife out and separate her from her child.  If all that is not bad enough, Effi's parents also initially reject her as well.   Could Society be so judgemental and unbending?  Maybe so.  I wasn't sure what Fontane's motivation was, but I think it was a way to pull the blinds up on Society.

Is there a villain in this piece?

My inclination is to say Instetten since I didn't like him and think his unwillingness to forgive caused so  much more suffering, but now I am not so sure.  He seemed to regret his actions in the end.  Did he feel bad about his choices or about the success that came his way ended up being so empty.  I'm not entirely sure. 

Discuss Effi's reaction to her mother's accusation "You brought it on yourself".

Effi accepts her guilt.  She blames Instetten to a degree but then decides that his actions were correct, that he was acting nobly and had no other choice.  I consider that a pretty selfless act, as she wanted no bitterness and more wanted to console Instetten.  I'm not so sure I could be as good as Effi, but I understand her wish to find inner peace. 

The lot of the real-life Effi, Elizabeth von Plotho, was a much happier one.  Why do you think Fontane made the outcome for Effi much harder?

I think Fontane was inspired by events but didn't want to parallel the stories too much as Elizbeth von Plotho was still alive at the time.  I'm sure also that Fontane was making a point as well, about society and the changes that were occurring to the "old order".  A happy ending wouldn't have had quite the same impact or sent the same message.

Were you surprised by the ending?

No, I knew how similar the story was going to be to both Madame Bovary and Anna Karenina, so I was not expecting a happy ending.

Where would you place Effi in the pantheon of C19th fictional adulteresses?

She ranks right up there with Emma and Anna.  I only wish her outcome would have been happier, though hers seemed more peaceful.  She paid for her sins, but as discussed in the introduction to my edition, she also managed to hold on to her own inner integrity.  So in that respect, I suppose her outcome was somewhat happier.

Do you think you would ever reread Effi Briest?

Definitely.  After reading the novel and the very good introduction I see how tightly knitted the narrative is.  Fontane is very subtle, he never hits the reader over the head but lets them decide for themselves and interpret events.  I think there are all sorts of allusions I missed this first time around, so a second read would be much richer.

I really enjoyed this book.  It was occasionally challenging, but so very worth reading.  I do want to share one quote from the introduction, which I found very interesting and very true.

"The intimate sphere of a broken marriage is a barometer of the health of the state and society as a whole, but in Effi Fontane has equally created a warm, attractive personality who, whatever she represents, is above all a vital, convincing character whose life and world we come to know and understand, and in knowing and understanding them we may know ourselves and out own world better too."

Lost in the Stacks: The Time of Man

I came across Elizabeth Madox Roberts last week when I was reading a review of Charles Morgan's book The Fountain.  His book was was compared with Willa Cather's work, which was enough for me to bring it home for a closer look.  Also mentioned in the review was Madox Roberts (her writing has also been compared to Cather), whose books were once not only very popular but also studied at one time.  Her work even merited a volume in Twayne's United States Authors Series.  Best known for The Time of Man, which is still in print, Madox Roberts was shortlisted for the Pulitzer Prize.  Set in Kentucky, the novel is a coming of age story of a young woman who is the daughter of a migrant farmer.  According to the Elizabeth Madox Roberts Society "she developed a highly idiosyncratic language to explore the inner lives of women as they make sense of their places in the sometimes hostile but vividly rendered outer world."

Originally published in 1926 my library owns a Book of the Month Club edition.  I think there was a time when a book chosen to be the BOMC was actually quite an honor and must have meant literary success.  I discovered this sheet glued into the inside front cover, which gives a description of the book along with enthusiastic quotes about both author and novel.  It's interesting to see who was on the committee which voted on this book: Henry Seidel Canby, Heywood Broun, Dorothy Canfield (Persephone author), William Allen White and Christopher Morley.  Both Canfield and Morley are still known and have books in print.  Previous authors whose works were chosen "book of the month" include Sylvia Townsend Warner, T.S. Stribling, Esther Forbes, Walter Noble Burns, John Galsworthy and Edna Ferber (may have to investigate a few of these authors who are new to me). 

If you're curious for a little taste of the writing, the book begins:

"Ellen wrote her name in the air with her finger, Ellen Chester, leaning forward and writing on the horizontal plane.  Beside her in the wagon her mother huddled under an old shawl to keep herself from the damp, complaining, 'We ought to be a-goen on'."

"'If I had all the money there is in the world,' Ellen said slowly, 'I'd go along in a big red wagon and I wouldn't care id it taken twenty horses to pull it along.  Such a wagon as would never break down.'  She wrote her name again in the air."

If the Amazon reviews for the book are anything to go by, she seems a universally liked and respected author and surely doesn't deserve to be lost in the stacks anymore.

November 17: Miscellanea

I'm already anticipating having a short work week next week.  It will be so nice to have a little extra time off to read and relax and hopefully watch a few movies, too.  My library has a really good film collection and we have recently been filling out the missing volumes from the Criterion Collection and I came across this little gem.  I'd never heard of Night Train to Munich before.  It was made in 1940 and directed by Carol Reed.  The screenplay was written by the same man who wrote Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes.  Doesn't this sound like fun:

"Carol Reed's Night Train to Munich is a twisting, turning, cloak-and-dagger delight, combining comedy, romance, and thrills with the greatest of ease.  Paced like an out-of-control locomotive, Night Train takes viewers on a World War I-era journey from Prague to England to the Swiss Alps, as Nazis pursue a Czech scientist and his daughter, who are being aided by a debonair British undercover agent."

I do love a good spy story and am very much in the mood for something good.  I'm thinking that after this month's ambitious reading pile, next month I am going to kick back a little and read some fun and entertaining books.  Earlier this year I was going to have a season os spy novels, but unsurprisingly I got distracted.  Now I think I might revisit that list.

Not very long ago I was lamenting the fact that I had read so few classics this year, but I think I am making up for lost time.  Earlier this month I finished Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South (which I loved and still want to write about), and just this week I've finished Theodor Fontane's Effi Briest (I have another set of questions I'll answer this weekend), and now I am reading Henry Adams's Esther.  Henry is from the famous political family that produced two Presidents.  I've not had a lot of time to dedicate to the novel, but now that I've finished Effi Briest I hope to spend more time with it.

"...Esther is both an unforgettable story of a courageous woman grappling with a conflict between love and integrity and an evocative portrait of the tensions between science, art, and religion."

I'm already anticipating reading Jane Austen's Emma and then I was thinking after that I might finally get around to trying John Dos Passos.  Oh, and I have Heinrich Böll's The Silent Angel ready as well, which I hope to begin reading this weekend.  How's that for a little planning?  There are so many classics I want to read I have them lined up outside the door!

I came across another wonderful small press that is interested in bring back into print forgotten works, which of course makes me very happy.  Onesuch Press is an Australian company with a small list of books, which hopefully will be expanding.  Happily I was able to find their books on both Amazon and Barnes & Noble.  There are a number of small companies with interesting backlists, but not all of them offer their publications through US vendors.  I'm not adverse to buying books from abroad but with a tighter budget now than previously I have to be a little more cautious about how often I splurge.  I do admit that in my excitement I ordered two Onesuch titles: Thomas Mann's Royal Highness:

"It is undeservedly one of Mann’s most neglected books, perhaps overshadowed by later masterworks. Lyric, subtle and filled with unforgettable characterisations, Royal Highness is a highly entertaining novel with a happy romantic ending. At its heart is the courtship and marriage of a prince and the daughter of an American millionaire with a flair for horse-riding and mathematics."

I've never read Mann before, so perhaps this would be a good place to start.  I also ordered John Dos Passos's One Man's Initiation-1917, which is an autobiographical novel about his experiences during WWI.  He was an ambulance driver during the war and later worked for the US Medical Corps.  I think I'm ready also to get back to my WWI reading as I have accumulated a number of interesting books all begging to be read.

I was thinking of the various small publishers who reprint lost classics and came up with quite a few in addition to Onesuch Press: Persephone Books, Hesperus Press (lovely new website!), Bloomsbury Reader, Grey Ladies, Capuchin Classics, Pushkin Press, One World Classics, and Felony and Mayhem Press (another lovely revamped website!).  Who have I forgotten?  Isn't it great to have lots of choices?  More opportunity to find more books!  (Because you really can never have too many books.  Unless you live in a small apartment.  But otherwise you really can't).

Okay.  One more thing, because I know you've been sitting on pins and needles to find out which new stitching project I've decided on.  One that was not even in my list, of course.  But I did mention this before, and as I finally found a moment to rummage through my supply bins and find the necessary linen and floss, voilá I give you Prairie Schooler's "Tortoise and the Hare".  And all of three letters already stitched.  I'm just speeding along.  I really do plan on stitching over my upcoming break and who knows I might even be able to form a whole word and maybe add an animal to what you see here.