A Work in Progress

Randomness, or a Mishmash of Things

I was all set to write about Paula Fox's The Coldest Winter today, but I've sort of run out of steam so will save it for the weekend and tell you about it next week.  Instead, I came across an interesting article about Fox in The Telegraph.  If you are at all interested in reading her work (and from the two books now I've read, I highly recommend her), do check it out.  She's a fascinating woman.  I've started 'collecting' her books and now plan on reading some of her fiction after admiring her memoirs so much.

I'm on a bit of a roll when it comes to memoirs.  Two by Paula Fox, one by Diana Athill, and now I've moved on to Jennifer Worth's very engrossing Call the Midwife.  As much as I would like to accept more review copies, with the general busy-ness at work and not having enough reading time to squeeze in all my other books, I rarely take any on.  I was instantly curious, however, when author Kim Tucker approached me about reading her book, Under the Banana Moon: Living, Loving, Loss and Asperger's.  I'm sorry to say I know very little about Asperger's, but reading Tucker's memoir should help shed more light on it for me. 

"To Kim Tucker, solidly in the Asperger's section of the autism spectrum, the colors blue and green and gray are not just colors, but rather whole worlds of iridescent life.  Likewise, to say that Under the Banana Moon is full of laughter and love and heartbreak is to only scratch the surface."

I'm planning on reading it as soon as I finish Jennifer Worth's book. 

Since I have finished a book (loved it and another one to write about this weekend), I've tentatively chosen P.G. Wodehouse's A Damsel in Distress that I was just talking about as my next read.  A little comic relief does sound in order about now.  Anything to laugh off the crummy weather we've been having (and that I am trying hard not to complain about).  Although not a Jeeves and Wooster novel, it will be my first official Wodehouse!  Many thanks to those who shared their own comfort reads.  I've been mentally adding them to lists. 

When you are busy doing something tedious, and you can't pull out a book to read, yet whatever you're doing doesn't require all your attention, do you ever fill the space with thoughts about books?  I do.  It can get me into a lot of trouble really.  For example, a few meanderings I had . . .  

• Today I was thinking about how awful I'm doing reading from my set of Penguin Great Food books.  Maybe I should skip ahead to Samuel Pepys.  There's nothing wrong with it, but it's straightforward cookery (albeit from the 1600s!). 
• I was thinking about the list of books I made to read from this year and how well I began but now seem to be neglecting.  I still want to read all the books from the list, but it's a matter of being able to spend a bit of time with one of them to actually get into the story.  I'd pulled out a novel by Daphne du Maurier to read next but haven't had a chance to begin it properly. 
• Then I was thinking how I have not been reading many classics or mysteries either (not that one has anything to do with the other necessarily but I like to read both types of books but have been reading either of late).
• And how I really need to read more literature by Southern writers.  Am thinking at the moment about Carson McCullers and Eudora Welty. 
• And then wishful thinking about summer vacation (despite the cold and rain and nasty dampness) how it might be time to think again about summering in Italy.  Warmth, sunshine, the Tuscan valley maybe.  Sounds nice, don't you think?  Maybe an Andrea Camilleri Sicilian mystery?
• And I've been thinking how I am not doing very well reading books of letters (or epistolary novels) either.  Oh the list of what I want to read but don't have time for is a long one.

But a person can only do so much, right?  And I am still reading lots of good books, so I have no complaint over what I am reading (just what I am not reading, it would seem).  And the weekend is nearly upon us and there will be more opportunities for uninterrupted reading time I hope.

One more bookish/technology note.  I am doing a trial run of Feedblitz.  They offer a way for readers to receive blog posts into their email inbox.  With Google Reader going away soon and the desire of some readers to receive posts via email I thought I would give it a try.  I'm still trying to figure out exactly how it works.  Surely there must be some sort of widget that I can display on my sidebar to allow readers to sign up, but to be honest I've not yet had a chance to really explore the possibilities.  Unfortunately Typepad does not offer this service and I am not sure what other reliable source does.  Any help or suggestions are most welcome.  But for the short term, if you'd like to sign up to receive my posts in your email inbox, please let me know.  I just need an email address and then I can sign you up from the back end.

Do stop back tomorrow as I have another lost in the stacks post lined up!

April 16: Reading Notes (Comfort Reads Ed)

I am sure there is a direct correlation between how stressed I am feeling and the books I am reading.  If the pile of comfort reads I have been dipping into for the last couple of weeks (since I mentioned my predicament) is anything to go by, I'm still feeling a little overwhelmed by life.  It's at moments like this that a really good, engrossing story is just what I need to take my mind off life's challenges.

With such an array of choices . . . where to start?

How about with a reread?  I think this must be the third time now that I've read Hotel Paradise by Martha Grimes.  Someday I really do need to pick up one of her Richard Jury novels, but for the time being I am more than contented with twelve-year-old Emma Graham.  I don't know if Grimes set out to write a series of books featuring Emma (though I am quite pleased she has), but she is now up to number four, I believe.  I've read only the first two and am planning on continuing on when I finish Hotel Paradise.  It's sort of a mystery but not in a traditional sense.  The story is narrated by Emma who spends the summer months at the hotel where her mother is cook.  Forty years before a girl about her age drowned in a local lake and Emma becomes obsessed with finding out the truth behind her death.

Jennifer Donnelly's The Winter Rose is totally unputdownable for me.  It's the book I seem to be reaching for most often and despite its heftiness (over 700 pages . . . wow, I didn't even realize until I stopped to check), I am flying through the story.  In the same vein as Cashelmara, this is a sweeping sort of story.  Set in 1900, India Selwyn Jones, a newly minted doctor, is set to change the world--or at the very least Whitechapel.  Despite her optimism,  however, nothing is as easy as she anticipates, and the dirt and grime and poverty she finds in the streets of Whitechapel almost succeed in ending her career before it even begins.  Yes, there's a love interest--two actually, one suitable and the other not.  This is a loose sequel to The Tea Rose, which I read years ago.  I've got the third book in the set, The Wild Rose, winging its way to me even as I type.

Ooh, a cozy mystery, and one that includes a historic coffee shop in the heart of Greenwich Village as a setting goes far to raise my spirits (and I don't know how it is where you live, but it's been grey, dreary and chilly where I am, so this is especially welcome at the moment).  Of late I have been indulging with an occasional (skinny) cinnamon dolce latte, so coffee has been on my mind.  Warm drinks on cold days help my mindset.  I had come across this series of mysteries by Cleo Coyle before (one of the circulation clerks at my public library recommended them to me ages ago), so I thought it might be fun to finally read one.  I'm starting at the beginning with On What Grounds.  Have only just begun, but it looks to be a light, not terribly taxing sort of read, and I suspect I'm going to learn a little bit about coffee along the way.

And a gripping book I recently finished.  Normally I like to write properly about books I've read, especially those I really enjoy, but I think in the case of Beatrice Hitchman's Petite Mort, I am just going to direct you to Litlove's post instead.  It was on her recommendation I picked the book up initially.  Actually the book has yet to be published in the US, but purely by chance it is an ebook that I was able to check out from the library where I work.  Since I read it on my Nook and didn't take notes (and it has since expired so I no longer have access to it), I'll only say it is indeed a twisty turny sort of story where nothing is as it appears.  It concerns a provincial young French girl who dreams of going to Paris to star in the silent films.  She goes, but ends up a seamstress instead.  She catches the eye of the studio's main producer with whom she gets involved.  This is a story that is best enjoyed when allowed to unravel at its own pace, but if you like stories of suspense and a sense of the unexpected do look out for it.  It has a wonderful noirish feel to it with a surprise ending!

And one to look forward to.  On more than one occasion P.G. Wodehouse has been recommended to me.  Just recently his name came up yet again, and since escapist, absorbing literature has such a draw for me right now, why not throw in a little humor, too.  I'm not sure if A Damsel in Distress is a Blandings Castle novel, but I like the way the story begins. 

"In as much as the scene of this story is that historic pile, Belpher Castle, in the county of Hampshire, it would be an agreeable task to open it with a leisurely description of the place, followed by some notes on the history of the Earls of Marshmoreton, who have owned it since the fifteenth century.  Unfortunately, in these days of rush and hurry, a novelist works at a disadvantage.  he must leap into the middle of his tale with as little delay as he would employ in boarding a moving tramcar.  He must get off the mark with the smooth swiftness of a jack-rabbit surprised while lunching.  Otherwise, people throw him aside and ho out to picture palaces."

I am trying hard to not pick it up again until I finish some other 'in progress' book first, but I am tempted to just throw all caution to the wind and go read it now. 

So, what do you like to read when life is being challenging?

Meeting the Author: Dan Yaccarino

This past Saturday artist Dan Yaccarino gave a talk at my local art museum, which I had been looking forward to.  He writes and illustrates the most delightful children's books.  Many of the over fifty books he's written are award winning.  As you can see he has a very inviting and colorful style very retro in feel, which is perhaps why I am so drawn to them.

He spoke to a nice size crowd that included lots of families but was diverse, too, in age range.  He told us his talk would be similar to the sort he normally gives to schools and children's audiences.  Apparently he had already spent time at a local elementary school (the same one my niece attended) as well as read some of his books to children at one or two of the different branches of my public library.  This was his third day in Omaha and I'm glad he got at least one sunny (though still cool, sadly) day out of his visit. 

Since it's picture books he creates, he had visuals to go along with his talk.  A very articulate and well-spoken man he obviously enjoys what he does immensely and it shows in how he talks about his work.  Judging by the laughter elicited from the younger members of the audience (and from the adults, too!), he has a very good sense of humor, which surely you must need to write children's books.  There are adults (and I am sure I am one of them) who have forgotten what it's like to be a child, but I don't think he has--no doubt that's part of his success.

I wish I had taken notes, but I just wanted to sit back and enjoy listening to him, but I hope I can at least share a few impressions.  In his slide show he shared photos of himself growing up, as well as his artwork from when he was very young.  He said he's lucky as he's known from an early age on what he wanted to do when he grew up.  He's always been creative and has nurtured and worked on his craft.  He attended art school, changing and perfecting his style until it has become 'his' style. 

He not only writes and illustrates books, but has illustrated the work of others, has had several cartoon series (including Oswald and Willa's Wild Life) and created a number of animated shorts.  He showed us several 'excerpts' from his animation, which were all very cool.  He said he loves drawing octopuses and has used members of his family, including his children, in his work. 

It was interesting to see what his work process is like.  He begins with sketches--smallish panels with each scene/page mapped out, which he may later cut apart and move around depending on how he decides to tell his story.  The illustrations come first, since that's the focus of a picture book.  He tries to tell as much of the story through those illustrations, and the things he can't convey through his paintings he sets down in words.  The cover comes last as that is what is the initial eye-catcher.  And I think his books are indeed very eye-catching.  He works mainly in gouache because of the luminosity of the colors as well as watercolor.  His last book published, however, he created through digital means. 

After the talk he signed books.  Actually he didn't just sign them, he illustrated them, too.

Yes, I gave in to temptation and added to my own collection.  How could I pass up buying a signed book?

This is my favorite.  It's from Kate and Nate Are Running Late by Kate Egan and illustrated by Dan Yaccarino.  I also brought home All the Way to America: The Story of a Big Italian Family, which is autobiographical (he said he was a little nervous about this one as it felt as if he was opening himself up to the world writing about his personal life), and Cooking with Henry and Elliebelly, which he illustrated but was written by Carolyn Parkhurst. 

And one more illustration to leave you with.  This is from the back inside cover of All the Way to America.  Can you tell he is inspired by those around him?  A family portrait I suspect. 

The Joslyn Art Museum has been running a whole series of exhibits of artists who do illustrations for children's books.  Up next is Raul Colon and in the fall artwork from Dr. Suess's The Lorax will be on display.  I'm looking forward to more new discoveries.

Short Story Sunday: The Test

Angelica Gibbs is another new-to-me author brought to light (once again) by the wonderful collection of The Persephone Book of Short Stories.  Let's see.  How many is that now?  I've given up counting as it seems as though with each new story I discover, I want to read more by each and every author.  So, might as well add Angelica Gibbs to the list.  

Born in New York Gibbs went to Vassar and then wrote for McCall's and other magazines.  She was on the staff of the New Yorker from 1931 onwards, and knowing just this little fact about her career (I seem to have a thing for New Yorker writers particularly from the first half of the twentieth century), it's a given that I'll be seeking her out now.  Actually having a subscription to the magazine means I have access to their online archives and a cursory glance yields five pages worth of writings (mostly short stories) by Gibbs. 

Not only did she write short stories, but also theatre reviews, poetry, profiles and essays.  I see lots of fiction, and "The Test" anthologized in this collection, first appeared in the June 15, 1940 edition of the New Yorker.  It's especially at moments like this that I want an iPad, so I can read through those archives from the comfort of a nice overstuffed chair.

"The Test" is an impressive story as Gibbs manages to convey in a mere five pages (yes, this is a very short story) the attitudes and prejudices of not just two men, but surely an entire community, maybe even an entire swathe of the broader society and how it effects one young woman.  It's a maddening and disturbing story and one I would hope couldn't be written today, but I suspect that maybe it could--but simply couched in different language?

This is such a short story I'm afraid I'm going to give away details, so if you think you'd rather not know too much about what happens, you might want to skip the next paragraph or two.

The test in the title refers to a driving test, which twenty-seven year old Marian is taking for the second time.  She's in the employ of Mrs. Ericson who wants her to have her license in order to drive her children to school.  Her first attempt resulted in a failure with four mistakes--enough for the inspector to flunk her.  It's not as though she can't drive as she had a license when she lived in Pennsylvania.  Although not mentioned in the story, I'm guessing Marion is living somewhere in the South.

Mrs. Ericson notes that Marion drives beautifully and and tells her that anyone might slip on a steep hill on a rainy day, though Marion is skeptical that she made all the  mistakes marked down last time by the inspector.  As she doesn't want to make marion nervous, she leaves the car when the inspector arrives (thankfully not the same one as previously) for the test.  And of course it's disastrous.  The problem isn't how Marion drives, despite being faced with the most difficult conditions given by the inspector, rather it's the belittling attitude and prejudicial manner in which he treats Marion, a woman of color. 

I won't give it all away, but Gibbs's story is very effective.  The reader cringes at the things that are said and done and shocked that anyone would be treated in such a way.  This is sort of a cautionary tale of just what came before and a reminder just what we are (sadly) capable of, and hopefully a reminder, too, of just how far we've come (and maybe thinking of how far we might still need to go) in terms of equality and simple respect for others.  

With this story, which are organized by publication year, I am now up to 1940.  I am official at the halfway mark (yes, this is a chunkster of a book really).  There are thirty stories included and next week's instalment: a story by Helen Hull will be number fifteen.  If I didn't already have so many other good books in progress I think I could contentedly sit and read this straight through.  By the way, I think I have the next anthology of stories (also all by women) all lined up.  How's that as a teaser?  Are you curious what it is?

Lost in the Stacks Home Edition: Hayley

As with Simon and Lyn, I first met Hayley via an online reading group that began when a number of like-minded readers decided to share their interest in and love for Persephone Books.  They eventually branched out and now read a variety of books (I joined much later), though mainly with an emphasis on 19th and early to mid-20th century fiction.  Hayley is a British blogger living in Leicester and shares her bookish passion at Desperate Reader.  Along with a love of books she also writes about about food and her cooking/baking adventures.  Do click on over and if you prefer books of the sort Persephone publishes, have a good look through her archives and be sure you have paper and pen handy to jot down reading suggestions.  (It was through Hayley that I first discovered Molly Keane by the way).

1. Describe your library/bookshelves. Are the books randomly placed or do you have them organized in a special way?

When I first moved here I had more shelf space than books and there was a system - roughly chronological for the fiction, and also split into genres.  As the years have gone by the books have overtaken the space (I dream of a bigger flat with yard and yards more shelving) so the system has basically broken down but there's a kind of order . . .  My Virago books and Scottish island books are in my bedroom, cookbooks in the kitchen, Persephone books sort of fit on one shelf, Georgette Heyer still has a shelf of her own, non fiction has managed to hang onto most of a bookcase, new books 'rest' on the edge of a particular shelf, and when I next have a sort out classics will hopefully end up together.  Otherwise there are books everywhere and I rely on memory to work out where I last saw something . . .

2. Do you like to weed and recycle as you read or do you prefer to hold on to all your books?

I keep most of the books I read.  Growing up we always had lots of books around and I've has books as long as I can remember (my dad built extra shelves above my bed and fixed a reading light there for me when I moved onto books that didn't have pictures and I've never looked back).  I do weed out books every now and again, I don't get very many unsolicited review copies but I have had a few and most of those have gone off to charity shops because I know I'll never read them.  I try and only buy books I think I'll want to keep so big clear outs are rare, though with space becoming an ever bigger issue I'm having to get a bit more ruthless - at the moment I'm sorting out books for my youngest sister and stepmother - that way they stay in the family.

3. Are your books confined to one area or are they spread out over your house?

Books are everywhere in my home and I go everywhere with them.  I like them as objects and love them en mass.  Most of them are in my sitting room where the shelves are beginning to get double stacked which I don't actually like as it  makes things harder to find.  The kitchen has cookbooks as well as a few of my wine books, the bath has quarterlies and letter collections, and my bedroom has mostly Virago books as well as a few boxes of fairly random bedside books which don't quite fit anywhere else (my father's holiday place has an increasing collection of books I'm on the fence about, happily he's still seeing these in the light of thoughtful gifts).  Unfortunately for my book buying habit that's all the space I have.  For a long time I held out against books in the bathroom, now that just seems foolish.

4. How long has your oldest unread book sat on your shelves?

A long, long time, the oldest unread book I have is a copy of The Wind in the Willows which I've had for about 35 years.  The one I am most ashamed of is Fanny Burney's Cecilia that I started reading on holiday 20 years ago and never got around to finishing - I'll need to start at the beginning again now.  Otherwise unread books don't bother me, I've probably read about half of mine but I buy them to lay down - they're what I'm looking forward to and there are lots of things I don't imagine having the time, or will, to read for maybe another 20 years (Dante and Milton are top of that list).  There's something very satisfactory to me in having a good browse amongst my books and pulling out something to read that I bought years ago - I like the idea that it's been patiently waiting for the right moment.

5. What is your most treasured book?

This is the hardest question to answer.  I'm very sentimental about my books as a collection - they've been presents, mark milestones, they chart  my life and enthusiasms.  The Virago books represent days hunting for them with a dear friend, and the Persephones led me to w while group of lovely people.  However I don't collection special editions, I don't like hardbacks (they take up too much space and cost too much), don't have many signed books - basically almost all of them are replaceable and if there was a fire it wouldn't be a book that I grabbed.  I think it has to be the memoires that my grandfather wrote for his family when he realised his memory was going because it's not something I could track down again and because I really miss him and wish I'd had the chance to spend more time with him as an adult.  He had some wonderful stories - as children we loved the one about a shipwreck and an almost plane crash but I learned from the book that he stayed in the Paris Ritz in 1926 and who wouldn't want to know more about that?

6. If you could pick one "lost in the stacks/on your bookshelves" book to rediscover and share with other readers, which would it be?

Normally at this point I choose a Gavin Maxwell* but I'm in a Victorian mood at the moment so would put in a plea for Margaret Oliphant's Miss Marjoribanks, it's part of the Carlingford Chronicles which were Miss Oliphant's response to Trollope's Barchester Chronicles.  She takes him on, and I'm pretty sure she thinks she's doing a better job of it than he did - I might even agree with her.  Miss Marjoribanks is the easiest one to find - it was certainly in print a couple of years ago and hopefully still is.  It follows the heroine through her twenties - she's a very determined young woman who has come home to look after her father and improve the society of Carlingford.  Over the years there are a number of suitors but somehow it never quite comes off and things are looking bad for our heroine but she's not the woman to be disheartened by a setback or to think of herself when she can help others.  It's a gently funny book but it's also full of details about Victorian society and the role women played in it.  Miss Marjoribanks has something of Jane Austen's Emma about her -- she is wonderful, and sadly overlooked.  All the chronicles are excellent and worth reading but this one also works brilliantly as a stand alone read (writing that now makes me want to get it off the shelf again).

*Gavin Maxwell's Ring of Bright Water was another book I loved and discovered thanks to Hayley.

Many thanks to Hayley for sharing photos of her bookshelves and piles with us.  Check back next Friday for a peek into another reader's library.

The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg

Mark Twain's The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg is a moral fable.  It's a tale of greed, hypocrisy and corruption as well as one of spiteful revenge.  Before the promise of easy wealth, Hadleyburg "was the most honest and upright town in all the region round about".  And the citizens of Hadleyburg were proud of their reputation.  But you know the saying--'pride comes before the fall'.  Through their hubris they'll show their true colors at the moment when their honesty is being tested most vigorously.  And unsurprisingly it is found wanting. 

So sure of themselves are they (or maybe simply not very self-aware), the people of Hadleyburg don't even realize when they give passing offense to a stranger.  The reader never discovers what the offense is or even who the stranger turns out to be, but they're able to witness the folly and downfall of the best families of Hadleyburg when the stranger finally takes his revenge.

One day a sack of gold is delivered to Mr. and Mrs. Richards along with a note explaining the purpose of the money and how it is to be distributed.  A kind deed was done to a stranger by one of the town's residents, twenty dollars given and good advice shared, and now the stranger (having made himself rich at the gaming table, though now is a reformed gambler) wishes to repay the money to the man who made such a good impression on him.

"If I could stay, I would find him myself; but no matter, he will be found.  This is an incorruptible town, and I know I can trust it without fear.  This man can be identified by the remark which he made to me; I feel persuaded that he will remember it."

The Richards are to conduct an inquiry.  They are to share the contents of the note, and if the answer is 'I am the man; and the remark I made was so-and so', then they will have found their man.  If the remark matches the one that is in a sealed envelope in the bag, the money is to be given him with no questions asked.  For surely only an honest reply would be made by any resident of such an upstanding town as Hadleyburg.

It crosses the minds of the Richardses that they could easily take the money, burn the note and be all the richer for such little effort.  They are poor and the money would be useful.  But they know Mr. Richards was not the man who helped the stranger.  Besides Mrs. Richards is loathe to take money made from the profits of sin--gambler's money!  So, temptation aside they set forth to follow the strangers wishes.

They and the people of the town believe that only one man likely could have done such a deed, the aptly named Barclay Goodson, now absent.  But who's to know for sure.  Letters are sent to nineteen of the town's 'best' families.  Each thinking they are to be the recipient of such wealth and they begin spending the money before it's even assured they'll be given it.  They begin to live beyond their means without a care in the world.  But will they be able to answer the question which matches that found in the note in the bag of money? 

When at a town assembly each man is asked to give his reply, it's revealed that none knows what's truly written in the note.  How could it happen when Hadleyburg is synonymous for incorruptible?  The promise of a sack of gold has brought out the town's true colors.  "Vain beyond imagination".  With each man brought forth to make his claim and the claim is not rewarded.  Mr. Richards awaits his turn to be asked the question, ready for humiliation, but he is passed over.  Unknown to him, he's passed over because he did indeed do a good deed.  But the rest are shown for what they truly are. 

This is a story that feels as fresh and pertinent today as when it must have been when it was written in 1898.  It comes with a marvelous ironic twist at the end displaying the moral ambiguities that give it a true ring of authenticity.  Interestingly at the time he wrote this story, Mark Twain was living in Europe, specifically in Vienna at the time of the Dreyfus Affair.  He he'd fled the states in the wake of financial problems and creditors.  And one of his daughters had also just died.  It's sort of a bleak story,  no doubt influenced by events occurring around him. 

I've read very little of mark Twain's work--I feel like I should be more enthusiastic about him than I normally am.  But I was impressed by this story and he deserves a much closer look by me.

Reading by Subscription: April Books

Yay for Virginia Woolf.  Finally a woman author included in my Melville House Art of the Novella subscription.  I've been waiting to see one come along.  A woman writer that is.  I feel like nudging her to the top of the pile, but I'm going to try and catch up on the two unread novellas I have on my pile before moving on to April's books.

I was thinking just recently about what an awful job I am doing this year of reading the 'classics'.  Classics being that hazy term that can encompass so much literature, but I am thinking here of books that might fall comfortably into the Western Canon (though for me classics for me is a much broader term).  Then I started thinking about my novellas, and while they are much shorter than what I might otherwise choose to read, they count too.  So, in that case, I've read Herman Melville, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Mark Twain, Charles Baudelaire, Leo Tolstoy, Guy de Maupassant and now am getting ready to read Machado de Assis.  Not so shabby thinking about it that way.  So, thank you Melville House, for broadening my horizons a bit.

For April (or whenever I actually get to them) I have Thomas Hardy and Virginia Woolf.  I've read both writers, though only one Hardy novel and a very few novels as well as a short story and essay or two of Woolf.  The Distracted Preacher sounds interesting as it is a "comic tale" (though with "trademark biting social commentary and moral import"--I would expect nothing less from Hardy!).

"When young Mr. Stockdale arrives in a small village to fill in for the Methodist minister, he finds himself pining for his comely new landlady. But she leads a mysterious life, keeping odd hours and speaking in hushed tones. As his love for her grows, he’s soon at the center of a hilarious high-stakes adventure, complete with slapstick, hijinks, and a marauding band of cross-dressers. And he’s forced to choose: follow his heart or his higher purpose?"

Conveniently the Woolf novella is the book I would likely read next if I was going to pick up a book by Virginia Woolf (if that all makes sense), Jacob's Room.  They read my mind it would seem.

"It is with Jacob's Room that she  made her break with her earlier, more traditionally shaped novels and launched her own radically different idea of story telling."

"The story of a young man on his way to war eschews the conventions of traditional narrative as too unrealistic.  It collects, instead, observations of the central character--mostly by women--in scenes and conversations that at first seem fragmentary."

"The sum total effect, however, is a powerfully cohesive and sometimes shockingly realistic impression, even as it questions whether we can ever really know someone . . . before it is too late." 

The blurb notes that for the uninitiated Woolf reader this is perhaps a very good place to start with her work.  Although I've read her in the past, I am all for accessible when it comes to Woolf.

Last week the latest NYRB Classic instalment arrived, too.  I am just now reading the Grossman, so have some catching up to do.  Luckily the last couple of books have been fairly short, which is a good thing as this month's selection is a pretty hefty tome (both in size and content).  Paul Hazard's The Crisis of the European Mind, 1680-1715 (translated from French) was originally published in 1961 by a pioneering scholar of comparative literature.  I think I'm going to have my work cut out for me.

"Paul Hazard’s magisterial, widely influential, and beloved intellectual history offers an unforgettable account of the birth of the modern European mind in all its dynamic, inquiring, and uncertain glory. Beginning his story in the latter half of the seventeenth century, while also looking back to the Renaissance and forward to the future, Hazard traces the process by which new developments in the sciences, arts, philosophy, and philology came to undermine the stable foundations of the classical world, with its commitment to tradition, stability, proportion, and settled usage."

"Hazard’s range of knowledge is vast, and whether the subject is operas, excavations, or scientific experiments his brilliant style and powers of description bring to life the thinkers who thought up the modern world."

Of late I've really been spoiled for choice when it comes to good books on my night table.  I think for the next few days I'm going to have to concentrate on my subscription books and see if I can make a little progress.  Even though I am perpetually behind in my reading (you, too?) I must say I love getting these books by subscription (and knowing I have something new to look forward to each  month), and I think I would be tempted to do more of this type of book ordering if I knew there were other publishers offering the service.  Not that I don't already have plenty to read, of course.  Books.  Mail.  Books in the mail with an element of surprise.  What more could I ask for?

Teaser Tuesday: Call the Midwife

It's been with much anticipation that I've finally picked up the first volume of memoirs by Jennifer Worth, Call the Midwife: A Memoir of Birth, Joy, and Hard Times.  I've seen the first season of the TV adaptation and thought it was excellent.  I hadn't really planned on watching the series to be honest.  Not having children myself I wasn't sure if it would be of interest as it is so outside of my scope of experience, but if you've watched it, too, you'll know that doesn't matter a bit. 

The show is so compelling to watch and it's easy to get caught up in the lives of the midwives, the nuns and their patients.  Too, postwar London, and specifically the East End, is a fascinating place to read about.  I seem to have an endless capacity of interest in British history--particularly that era.  And now just a couple of chapters into the book I find myself completely under the spell of Worth's storytelling.  It's the sort of book you start reading and then realize that it's the perfect fit for your mood, so much so that when you think about it you sort of get goosebumps.  Does that sound weird?  That's how books affect me sometimes.

What a different world it was in the 1950s.  It's not that I didn't know that of course, but the anecdotes Worth shares brings it all home vividly.  I have a feeling that my book is going to be dog eared by the time I get to the end of it.  I could share lots of teasers, but will try and just pick out a few that I found particularly interesting.  A few facts to begin with first, however.  Worth went to work in Nonnatus House in the heart of the London Docklands.  This was a densely packed area of the East End.  Nonnatus by the way stands for "non natus" which is Latin for "not born".  Despite working in the slums of London Worth never felt in danger despite being out on her bicycle going to tend births both day and night.  There was a deep respect for the work of the midwives by even those who appeared most rough and tumble.

"The bomb sites were the adventure playgrounds.  They were numerous, a terrible reminder of the war and the intense bombing of the Docklands only ten years before.  Great chunks had been cut out of the terraces, each encompassing perhaps two or three streets.  The area would be roughly boarded off, partly hiding a wasteland of rubble with bits of building half standing, half fallen.  Perhaps a notice stating DANGER - KEEP OUT would be nailed up somewhere, but this was like a red rag to a bull to any lively lad over the age of about six or seven, and every bomb site had secret entries where the boarding was carefully removed, allowing a small body to squeeze through.  Officially no one was allowed in, but everyone, including the police, seemed to turn a blind eye."

******

"Life has changed irrevocably in the last fifty years.  My memories of the Docklands bear no resemblance to what is known today.  Family and social life has completely broken down, and three things occurring together, within a decade, ended centuries of tradition--the closure of the docks, slum clearance, and the Pill."

******

"The Pill was introduced in the early 1960s and modern woman was born.  Women were no longer going to be tied to the cycle of endless babies; they were going to be themselves.  With the Pill came what we now call the sexual revolution.  Women could, for the first time in history, be like men, and enjoy sex for its own sake.  In the late 1950s we had eighty to a hundred deliveries a month on our books.  In 1963 the number had dropped to four or five a month.  Now that is some social change!"

She muses on the fact that simply by the nature of her work she gets to know the women of the Docklands much better, really almost exclusively, than the men.  I had never really thought about this, but she mentions that in Jane Austen's work "never recorded a conversation between men alone, because as a woman she could not know what exclusively male conversation would be like". 

I'm in the midst of a number of really good books at the moment, and it is continually a dilemma in the mornings deciding which will go with me to work (and which must be left behind!).  A good problem to have actually.  Needless to say, this one will find a place in my bookbag this week!

Economy Must Be Our Watchword

Thank goodness for libraries and their willingness to lend rare books.  Perhaps the library who loaned me (rather loaned my library, and then me indirectly) Joyce Dennys' Economy Must Be Our Watchword doesn't realize there are not many copies of this floating around.  But I've taken good care of it and have just today brought it back to my library so they can send it back to its proper home.  When Simon mentioned this humorous Joyce Dennys novel I knew I had to try and track it down.  I had little hope that I would find a copy, but it's amazing how often books can be found via interlibrary loan.  If your library offers the service, I highly recommend it--as you then literally have at your fingertips almost any book that is available somewhere.  Often a hard to find book is sitting on some library's shelves just waiting to be checked out and read.

I always take note of the books other readers recommend in my lost in the stacks posts (and I hope to have another one lined up soon).  If another reader (especially one whose tastes tend to be similar to mine--and sometimes not, too, as there are so many good books out there to discover) tells me a book is a hidden gem, I trust them to steer me in the right direction.  About Economy Must Be Our Watchword Simon said:

"So, which book do I love which *hasn't* caused much of a stir in the blogosphere... I think it might be Economy Must Be Our Watchword by Joyce Dennys.  I never blogged about it properly, since it's impossible to find copies of it, but it's a hilarious take on a rich woman who has bizarre ideas about economising (and zero self-awareness) during the Second World War.  I treasure my copy, which I was lucky to find on Charing Cross Road."

Published in 1932, it is an immensely amusing send up of the monied classes, though in this case the Macassars are nouveau riche, having come to their wealth and titles much more recently than their peers.  I suppose this is a true satire, though the humor is almost so exaggerated it seems to fall into the comic realm à la P.G. Wodehouse maybe.  Lady Macassar, or Petal as she is known by her husband Hilary, is a larger-than-life character.  She's a snob with a capital S and so uninformed (though I'm sure she'd argue with me on that point) as to be outrageous in her thinking.  If the story was a film I can picture one of those old B&W 1940s movies of madcap hilarity and almost farcical in the action.

"As I said to Hilary only this morning, 'Economy must be our watchword for the future'."

"I mean to say, it's all very well to talk, and some people would call us quite well-to-do, but what I want to know is, How can one live on fifteen thousand a year when one is accustomed to live on twenty-thousand?"

"Hilary said,

It's perfectly simple my dear girl, we  must shut up this house and sell the villa at Antibes, and let the shooting in Scotland, and go live at Westlands'." (Westlands being their country home in Wessex).

Petal has a knack for rubbing nearly everyone the wrong way.  Peeving off the servants who she feels must, too, do their part, and whyever must they "whine" about their situations when they can easily go on the dole and live the easy life (paid for by hers truly, of course).  She's surprised and shocked when they complain and worse when they quit.  When the chef decides to leave after Petal lets the kitchen maids go she tells her that "everybody has got to make sacrifices" now that they're in the throes of a National Crisis.  Somehow, though, Petal's sacrifices never seem to be quite as painful as those around her (though I'm sure she'd argue with me on that point, too).

"This is no time for fiddling while Rome is burning, like Brutus did, and I for one intend to set an example to all those disgraceful out-of-work people who line up every week for the dole, which you and I, Hilary, have to pay for.  I wonder they aren't ashamed, but I suppose as long as they can live on comfort without working they will continue to do so, and it only remains for our class to show them that we anyway are not afraid to shoulder the burden."

So, along with sacking the kitchen maids in order to economize, Petal closes the London house and follows Hilary to Westlands, though sadly she is not a countrywoman at heart.  She manages to offend most of her neighbors, and after an afternoon tea party discovers she'll need to reciprocate visits for which she's loathe to do.  When Hilary sets to creating a sustaining garden with the help of other villagers, she decides she must, too, do her part and sets off back to London to look for a job. 

It doesn't follow that being a good customer/shopper makes you a good a good saleswoman, but it's impossible to tell that to Petal.  She elbows her way into a position at her favorite hat shop to humorous effect though she steamrolls over everyone in her way.  I'd like to think that deep down, despite her brashness, she's ultimately good hearted but she really doesn't seem to have a clue to the reality of the lives of those outside her class.  Economize she may try to do, in her own way that is, but sadly her grasp of economics is on the shaky side. 

This is the sort of story that elicits a fair few snorts and guffaws.  Between Petal's mis-understandings and mis-information and her methods of economizing, it's a story you shake your head at in consternation and amusement.  I wonder what readers thought of it in 1932?  The story is accompanied by set of wonderful illustrations like the one above.  I think I need to share a few more with you.

Petal and her friend Babs, with whom she stays with in London (one must economize you know and the London house is shut up . . .).  You might call Petal high maintenance in terms of being an houseguest.

Petal with her O (a bit of a misunderstanding with the gardener and his thick West country burr).  Or hoe as you might know it.  She did spend a little time working in Hilary's garden (what better opportunity to buy herself a "delightful new smock and breeches").  Did you know that even in 1932 it wasn't unheard of for one to have a publicist?  What better opportunity for a photo op than the honorable Lady Macassar working in her garden (all in the name of economizing!).

And the same Mr. Boom manages to wrangle an invitation out of Petal to attend a Society wedding at which there is to be no photography, though hidden in Mr. Boom's hat is his trusty little camera.  The bride's family called out not only the local constabulary to watch for offenders, but also the Girl Guides and Boy Scouts with very funny results.  Here's Petal and Mr. Broom trying to hide his camera, though you can't pull the wool over a Scout's eyes too easily.

Bloomsbury has reissued a couple of Joyce Dennys' books, both of which I have somewhere on my bookshelves, so will look forward to reading them when I am in need of something light and amusing.  If you can get your hands on Economy Must Be Our Watchword, it's well worth the effort.  It's also the sort of book that can easily be read in a sitting or two--perfect reading for a rainy afternoon I think.

Short Story Sunday: Nine Years is a Long Time

When Persephone Books used to mail out a paper catalog of their entire backlist of books I would study it.  Literally.  Read it through from front to back.  Dog ear pages noting books that had caught my eye.  Plan my next order, which was always far too big and had to be whittled down.  I still have almost all  my catalogs, and while all books can found on their website, it's still a pleasure to browse their paper catalog.  I thought I had all but memorized every author they publish, or at least had a familiarity of them and could recognize titles and stories. 

So after reading Norah Hoult's 1938 story, "Nine Years is a Long Time", I'm a little surprised I didn't take firmer note of her.  I'm going back to my catalog, I think, for a refresher.  Truly there are still hidden gems within Persephone's backlist that need to be mined.  What I like about Norah Hoult is the unexpectedness of her story.  She really surprises me.  It makes me sit up and take notice now and sparks my curiosity to learn more.  Have I made you curious, too?

You never quite know what to expect with a short story.  Titles often are not very revealing of content and it takes a little time to orient yourself to what's happening.  As each character is introduced and the action begins to play out you form a picture in your mind of what's happening, what's not happening, and how each character relates one to the other.  I'm sure I come to each story with a certain set of preconceived notions--based on the period the story was written, who publishes the story and and my own very general expectations.  So when an author throws you for a loop, doing the unexpected (and so matter-of-factly) I am indeed very impressed. 

Norah Hoult was an Irish author, though she was orphaned young and went to England to study and live.  She began her career as a journalist, moved on to magazine work and then finally took to writing full time after the publication of her first book, Poor Women in 1928.  She was quite prolific, publishing twenty-five books in her lifetime.  Sadly all but There Were No Windows (Persephone Book #59) seems to be out of print. 

"Nine Years is a Long Time" begins rather cryptically and it takes some piecing together to fully understand just what's really happening in the story and what the ramifications are.  I thought it quite clever.  A woman (of a certain age) mourns the disappearance from her life of a man who has been quite close to her. 

"It wasn't until October was well under way that she began to wonder that she had no word from him.  Even then she didn't actually worry.  He had probably gone on some business trip.  Men in good position, like he certainly was, often went away on business looking after his affairs.  He might have gone back to London: he was a member of some small club there.  That she did know, for he'd let out one day something about an important call being put through to his club in town, and he had to return Rotherfield sooner than he had expected."

What is the relationship between the story's narrator and this man?  What happened to him?  It's presented almost mysteriously.  Hoult feeds the reader information, sometimes little teasers and other times revelatory observations and facts until what is going on in the story is not just surprising but maybe even a little shocking considering when it was published.  Not unexpectedly this is a story of the seemingly quiet domestic world of women, but it is also a story with a twist. 

I, too, am being purposely cryptic for to give away too many details would spoil the fun of the reader's discovery of how characters and actions are interconnected.  If you read "Nine Years is a Long Time" you've have that small moment of an epiphany, too and then all that came before suddenly becomes quite clear.  I like Hoult for doing what you don't expect her to do.

As next week's story is very short, I think I'll be pairing it with the story that comes after.  So, next up both Angelica Gibbs and Helen Hull.  And with these two stories I'll finally be arriving in the 1940s (the stories are arranged chronologically by their publication date).  By the way, I am quickly approaching the midway mark in the book.  Yes, it is a chunky collection (all the better and a bargain for your money), and I continue to enjoy the varied stories.  I may be an awful poetry reader, but I do enjoy a good short story.