A Work in Progress

German Literature Month Reading Plans

I've been preparing for Caroline and Lizzy's German Literature Month, which begins tomorrow November 1.  Along with Carl's RIP reading event, this is one of the very few group readalongs that I always join (this is the third year) and manage to accomplish most of what I set out to do.  Hopefully the same will be true this year.  My plans are a little on the ambitious side, but hopefully I can stay on track.  I've already started dipping into a couple of the books, so I am looking forward to reading in earnest now.  My line up will hopefully coincide somewhat with the structure Caroline and Lizzy have set out--alternating between female and male writers.  I may not finish a book a week but I hope to get through my stack by the end of the month.  In any case I'll be writing about my reading each week.  My planned reads:

The Wall by Marlen Haushofer, which Caroline wrote about earlier this year and I immediately noted in anticipation of the GLM.  It has a dystopian slant to it, though I think that's not entirely an accurate description of it either.  I have a feeling it is going to be a slightly disturbing read, but from the first page the story has grabbed me.  

Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis.  I've read some of Kafka's letters and diary entries.  I've read a very few of his short stories, and I've read about the women in his life, but I have never read any of his longer fiction (though The Metamorphosis is novella-length actually).  I had several book tokens saved up at Audible, so I decided to look for some German literature to listen to.  In the end I chose the audio version also of The Metamorphosis (since I tend to think of Kafka as one of those formidable modern writers).  Why not listen as well as read along? 

I've also got a biography on audio for background material.  It is Louis Begley's The Tremendous World I have Inside My Head: Franz Kafka: A Biographical Essay.  The book is just over 200 pages and the audio something like six hours.  I've been listening to it on my walks home from work and am finding it fascinating.  I'm learning some very interesting things about Kafka that I didn't know before.  I have yet to start the Kafka story, however.  This weekend I think I'll finally crack open the book.

Christa Wolf's One Day a Year: 1960-2000 has long been sitting on my shelves.  This is a compilation of diary entries--she wrote about one day of each year, September 27, for forty consecutive years, which I find highly impressive.  The entries chronicle an ordinary life, and in her case, life in the German Democratic Republic before and after the fall of the Wall.  It is a chunky book (and here is where some of my ambition comes in!), so I have set myself the task to read one diary entry a day if possible, through the month of November.  If I can do it, I should be able to finish it by the end of the  month (if I can double up on diary entries on a few days).  Since my Sundays are now open with my ghost stories finished for the year, I hope to write about my reading each weekend.  As they are essays--anywhere from a few pages to more than twenty in length, I think I might be able to share an overview of my reading--bits that are especially interesting or noteworthy.  I'll start this Sunday, so more about Wolf and her work this weekend.

And lastly I have another audio to listen to.  Snow White Must Die by Nele Neuhaus is another book Caroline read and wrote about and that I noted down.  When I spotted it on Audible it seemed like another perfect choice for my daily walks.  Caroline called it a 'solid police procedural' and 'gripping', so it should be a good choice to round things out a bit.  I'll save it for later in the month.  Kafka first.

I've got a few more choices that are peripheral or supplementary reading.  If I get to them--wonderful.  If not, I might just browse or read a short story or two. 

I would love to read more of Stefan Zweig's work.  It seems I usually read a novel, novella or short story most years.  I like his writing very much, so I brought home from the library a small collection of short stories and a novella (which also includes a short story):

Twilight & Moonbeam Alley -- "A French country estate, and a German port's dive bar privide backdrops for these two exquisite stories."

The Governess and Other Stories -- "An eclectic collection of four brilliant stories, including a Renaissance trategy and an English whodunit."  I'm especially keen to read these stories, so I might try squeezing in a few short stories along the way.

I also brought home Kafka's Dearest Father (which Begley writes about in his essay that I've been listening to), and Jeremy Adler's Franz Kafka, which is in the Overlook Illustrated Lives series.  I may not read the book, but it is chock full of illustrations, which I can look at in tandem with my other reading.

I'm pretty excited about my line up of books, but I have a feeling I might well be tempted by what others are reading this month and pick up another book or two--if not to read now, then for sometime later!  I still am finishing up a few other books from October, but November should hold lots of German Literature reading for me.

Halloween Goodness, or a Ghost Story

What's Halloween without a good ghost story concerning a governess?  Of course the classic is Henry James's The Turn of the Screw, which I read several years back.  Edith Wharton wrote a fair few ghost stories, too, and her The Lady's Maid's Bell reminded me of the James story.  Did you know that Elizabeth Taylor also wrote a ghost story (and maybe even more than one--I'm not familiar with all her stories unfortunately), and one that has a governess at its center.  It has been anthologized in a few places, but I read it in The Oxford Book of Twentieth Century Ghost Stories edited by the late Michael Cox (a book I've dipped into before and should really own).

I should know that in Taylor's very capable hands to expect something good, but I was impressed by how she took a common-enough story and made it into something fresh and her own.  She turns the tables a bit and offers the unexpected, which took me a little by surprise.  It begins very ordinarily (as governess-ghost-stories go) but then the story turns on its head just a little bit.

"Poor Girl" is Miss Chasty the governess, whose first pupil is a flirtatious seven-year-old.  He must be something of a shock to her as she comes from a respectable family.  She's the daughter of a vicar and it's hoped and expected that her brothers will follow suit.  Hilary, her charge, is a precocious young boy whose lively eyes were often "fixed cruelly" upon his governess, "smiling faintly . . . but measuring her timidity."  Miss Chasty is just one of a string of governesses.  He's not too keen on going away to school, but seems sure that he can avoid leaving home.

"He would answer her questions correctly, but significantly, as if he knew that by his aptitude he rescued her from dismissal."

He knows too much for his age and is wont to lean in towards her, breathing in her scent.  His behavior worries her.  More worrisome, however, is what Hilary's parents, Mrs. and Mr. Wilson, think of her.  Whatever Mr. Wilson lacks in authority (especially in moments of amatory weakness), his wife more than makes up for.  And Mr. Wilson has had moments of weakness with previous governesses, though Mrs. Wilson seems favorably impressed by Florence.  At least initially.  Her first impression of the governess is that she is a plain, pious young woman befitting that of a clergyman's daughter and governess.  

Mrs. Wilson often spends time in the nursery watching her son, her "darling boy", in his studies and taking note of Florence.  Her visits become more regular when she sees a crimson smear on the lip of the teacup and smells a heavy perfume hanging in the room.  Perhaps her first impression was wrong.  In this pious young woman, as she looks deeper, she detects an excitability, even feverishness reflecting a crack in her proper exterior.  She catches Florence turning the teacup just so to hide the red smear.

Each woman sees, feels, senses something in the nursery.  Something hangs heavy about the room affecting each woman in turn.

"The schoolroom this evening seemed to have been wreathed about with a strange miasma; the innocent nature of the place polluted in a way which [Florence] could not understand or have explained.  Something new it seemed, had entered the room which had not belonged to her or became a part of her--the scent had clung about her clothes; the stained cup was her cup and her handkerchief with which she had rubbed it clean was still reddened; and, finally, as she had stared in the mirror, trying to reestablish her personality, the affected little laugh which startled her had come from herself.  It had driven her from the room."

Mrs. Wilson sees the room as a product of Florence's true nature.  For Florence the room has something artificial about it.  She feels strange and different when there.  Mr. Wilson is only too happy to sit in on Hilary's lessons with Florence.  At his wife's behest he watches Florence to discover whether she is an immoral young woman.  Yes, he's only too happy to do so. 

Well, you can imagine what might happen to a young governess who catches the eye of her master.  Both will be disgraced.  One sent packing.  There's something about the nursery.  A ghostly presence.  A hint of something happening and Florence plays it out in a sort of shadow action.  There are other things you are meant to imagine in this story.  The last line is a bit cryptic, like other good ghost stories, Taylor leaves a little up to the reader to sort out, but the twist she offers on the tale is satisfying indeed.

Another enjoyable season of RIP reading has now come to an end.  Happy Halloween all. 

Teaser Tuesday: Lee Miller

I love biographies and memoirs and don't know why I don't read more of them.  Maybe this will be the start of a new reading path for me.  Even though they often read slowly (then again I read nonfiction very slowly in any case), I tend to find the subject matter of most biographies very engaging.  Certainly Lee Miller was such an intriguing woman--more so than most--and I am finding it hard to put down Carolyn Burke's Lee Miller: On Both Sides of the Camera.  Even with its teeny tiny print (all the more information packed into those pages, right?), I'm happy to spend my work breaks immersed in her life.

I'm not yet very far into the book, only a few chapters, but even by age twenty Miller had gone through some really devastating experiences.  Although I have long been aware of her photography, it was last summer in San Francisco when I saw an exhibit of Miller's and artist Man Ray's work that she became a permanent blip on my radar.  It was only a matter of time before I picked up a book about her and began reading in earnest.  She was Man Ray's muse.  The two were teacher-student and later collaborated and eventually became lovers for a short period.  The exhibit I saw was excellent (I still vividly recall it more than a year later).  A bit about the exhibit:

"From 1929 to 1932, Man Ray and Lee Miller lived together in Paris, first as teacher and student, and later as lovers. Their mercurial relationship resulted in some of the most powerful works of each artist’s career, and helped shape the course of modern art. The two artists inspired each other equally, collaborating on several projects. Though they lived together for only three years, the exhibition examines the lingering effect each had on the other’s art. Connecting photography with other media, the exhibition reveals how the Surrealists combined imagery in unexpected ways, creating extraordinary feats of imagination."

I'm quite tempted to break down and finally splurge on the exhibit catalog Man Ray/Lee Miller: Partners in Surrealism by Phillip Prodger, which I lusted after last year (but the hardcover was just too hefty to drag home in an already full suitcase).  But I digress.  And I am getting ahead of myself (and my reading).

Miller was born Elizabeth Miller in 1907 in Poughkeepsie, New York.  I'm just ready to begin reading about 1925.  She was the favorite child of her father and the middle sibling between an elder and younger brother.  Her family was relatively comfortable middle class--her father ambitious and philandering and her mother in that traditional role of wife and mother, though the family was somewhat bohemian in their thinking and values. So, let me get the darker bits I've read so far over with and I imagine this may well explain a lot about Miller and her life along the way . . .  At the age of seven she was raped by an acquaintance and contracted gonorrhea.  It was an extremely traumatic experience, which would stay with her for the rest of her life.  

Needless to say she was a very complex woman and I suspect that will be true as well about her relationships later in life as well as about her art. My teaser, however, is far more mundane.  I just read this bit today and it's an example of what I love so much about biographies and memoirs from this era.  I like learning all about the milieu of the subject, and in the case of Miller, she was a teenager just at the  time when life was getting interesting for women. Yes, flappers.

"Elizabeth's teenage years coincides with the first half of the 1920s, when an upheaval in the mores of young people preoccupied the country.  Critics blamed this permissiveness on the end of the war, the returned soldiers' hedonism, the movies, and, once Prohibition was enacted, the thrill of clandestine drinking--since to drink meant to break the law and consort with bootleggers and other lowlife.  Others pointed to the changes in women's lives.  Middle-clas girls left home to work in the cities even though their parents could support them; those who stayed home enjoyed greater freedom from surveillance due to the motorcar."

Welcome to modernity, yes?  And I think Miller was going to be a very modern woman indeed.  I have also brought home from the library Lee Miller's War by Antony Penrose to read, or at least look at, in tandem with this biography.  I also have a video about her waiting for me and I might find another book or two on the library's shelves to give a broader picture about Lee Miller and her world.  I'm sure I'll have more to say about this one later.

A Century of Books: Update

The year is slipping by ever more quickly.  Even as I weekly wish for Friday to come sooner (and Monday to come later) I wish the months wouldn't slip through my fingers as fast as they do.  I tend to fret quite a lot about the things I don't have time to do, the things I want to do (read that as 'read more books') but do so very slowly.  I try and break myself of the habit of worrying about things I have no control over (and the things that really in the scheme of things don't matter so much), but it's easier said than done. I think I will avoid revisiting any plans I made at the beginning of the year--the lists I made (which I am sure I will make again in anticipation even as I fail miserably now--I am a glutton for punishment, what can I say) and projects I started that remain uncompleted.

But there is one . . .  One project that I began at the  beginning of the year with no end date in mind, only a project that will be ongoing until I finish it.  I think it's time to take a peek at my Century of Books.  I haven't really given it a lot of thought--especially of late.  The idea behind the project (and I was inspired by Simon to give it a go) is to read one book that was published in each year of the Twentieth Century--1900-1999.  My own take on it is to include only novels, no novellas, short story collections or nonfiction (but maybe I'll revise those guidelines at some point as I get nearer to filling in the years).  This first year was meant to be random.  I would just add books as I read them that would fit within my regular reading choices.

I'm up to twenty-four books so far, so at this rate it'll take me at least two more years to fill in all the slots!  (I'm being optimistic, too).  So far these are the years I've managed to 'fill in'/read:

1905: Doctor Glas by Hjalmar Söderberg
1922: Jacob's Room by Virginia Woolf
1928: Grey Mask by Patricia Wentworth
1932: Cheerful Weather for the Wedding by Julia Strachey
1933: Flush by Virginia Woolf
1941: Evil Under the Sun by Agatha Christie
1943: The Last of Summer by Kate O'Brien
1950: There's No Home by Alexander Baron
1951: Transit by Anna Seghers
1953: Guard Your Daughters by Diana Tutton
1965: Airs Above Ground by Mary Stewart
1974: Cashelmara by Susan Howatch
1975: Turtle Diary by Russell Hoban
1977: The Wars by Timothy Findley
1981: A Countess Below Stairs by Eva Ibbotson
1983: Pitch Dark by Renata Adler
1984: Testing the Current by William McPherson
1985: Crampton Hodnet by Barbara Pym
1986: A Summons to Memphis by Peter Taylor
1991: Letters from Constance by Mary Hocking
1992: At Weddings and Wakes by Alice McDermott
1993: A Grave Talent by Laurie King
1995: Total Chaos by Jean-Claude Izzo
1996: Hotel Paradise

I've done much better with the latter half of the twentieth century than the first half, which sort of surprises me.  I've read at least one book per decade except for the 1910s with the 1980s and 90s being the most complete and the first decade and the 1910s being the least.  Two books are by Virginia Woolf (okay, so I cheated here as her novels are short novels, but I had to include VW!).  Most are (unsurprisingly) by women authors.  Only two are works in translation (there would be far more had I included novellas).  Three books are thanks to my NYRB subscription.  Several are mysteries. 

Hmm.  So, do you think this gives me sufficient excuse to go in search of some books to read from the earlier part of the century in order to fill in more slots?  Any excuse to start a new book is always welcome . . .  And I was just thinking this weekend how much I would like to pick up a Virago to read.  Loads of Viragos would fit the bill nicely.  Maybe now is where the fun comes in and I can actually do a little planning to fill in missing years.

In case you are curious, I have written about most of the books (and I have a few I still need to catch up on).  You can click on the Century of Books tab and there are links to my posts.  This is one project that I think I actually have a chance of completing, and one I am enjoying working on!

Short Story Sunday: Jacobs, Collins & James

I don't think I've missed many Sundays of short story reading (and writing about what I've read) this year.  Thinking back over 2013 I think I've spent the bulk of it with just a couple of collections, and I've greatly enjoyed both of them.  Even if the scare factor is low, I almost always enjoy my ghost story reading in the fall months.  For me it's more about the atmosphere and being entertained than anything else.  Just as well, as if I think about it too much I can scare fairly easily.  I think I've mentioned how I measure the 'scare factor' in a story--by whether or not I'll go do laundry in my basement or not.  Sometimes it's not the actual reading that will send chills down my spine (though sometimes it does), but what it does to my imagination after the fact.  It's when a story messes with your mind and you get spooked that you know an author did a good job.

I've read (in two cases reread) the last three stories from The Haunted Looking Glass this past weekend and now sadly close the book for the last time.  The stories were chosen by Edward Gorey who also did the illustrations (one drawing for each story in his inimitable style).  I only wish he would have written an introduction as I would love to know why he chose each story.  There is only a mention that these were his favorites and I can see why--each is a classic in its own right.  Some I liked more than others.  I think my own favorites from this selection are "The Signalman" by Charles Dickens and "The Shadow of  a Shade" by Tom Hood.  In case you are looking for a good collection of ghost stories to dip into, I can heartily recommend this one and have added it to my own wishlist (now reluctantly must return this copy to the library).

The last of the stories includes one that I suspect many of you have read at some point.  It's a wonderful example of irony and a warning of 'beware what you wish for'.  W.W. Jacobs's "The Monkey's Paw" is a very short story (about twelve pages) that manages to pack a punch and at the same time be very streamlined and wastes not a word.  It's a cold wet night.  The blinds are drawn, there is a fire burning brightly and a family sits about their drawing room all cozy within and shielded from the dreariness without.  A visitor, Sergeant Major Morris, who comes from far abroad arrives and will change the life of the family irrevocably--however unintentionally.

The sergeant major lived in India for more then twenty years, and when asked about his experiences he tells them about a monkey's paw that he got while living there.  It's a magical paw, mummified, but one that promises to grant three wishes to the owner. 

"It had a spell put on it by an old fakir, a very old holy man.  He wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives, and that those who interfered with it did so do their sorrow."

It's human nature, however, to look at the paw as something that can only give, a granter of wishes.  And the family does wish on the paw.  I won't give away the twist, but only say that the paw can also take away while still granting a wish. 

******

I've already had the chance to revisit Wilkie Collins.  "The Dream Woman" is another wonderfully chilling story, well-told and tightly plotted.  This is a story about a premonition.  What happens when your dreams come true?  Not a happy dream either but more of a nightmare.  Like The Haunted Hotel, the story is narrated by a doctor, but the reader soon forgets who is telling the story.  Reality quickly falls away and you become so involved in the tale that its almost like resurfacing from under water at the end when the narrator pops back in when all is said and done.

The story the doctor tells is about a man who nightly dreams awful dreams and calls out, "Wake up, there!  Murder!".  An ostler by trade, he married much later in life.  For many years he was alone and lived only with his mother--not a whiff of romance had he the pleasure of.  One night he dreamt of a "fair, fine woman, with yellowish flaxen hair, and light gray eyes, with a droop in the left eyelid." Noiselessly she comes to his bedside, and at the last moment he sees her raise her arm and plunge it down onto his pillow--just where his head had rested--in her delicate hand a knife.  Dream or reality?  He meets and marries a woman with just the same features as the woman in his nightmare . . .

******

Like the Jacobs story, "Casting the Runes" by M.R. James is one I have read before.  Although it is considered by some to be his best, my own favorite James story (and there are many James stories--I have only read a smattering thus far) is "Oh Whistle and I'll Come to You, My Lad", which I read last year.  "Casting the Runes" is a story about evil and the supernatural.  About men who do wicked things.  Typical of a James story this one concerns academics and rare books.  In this case a scholar has written a paper hoping it will be included in a scientific meeting.  It has, however, been deemed 'hopeless' and has been rejected by the committee inviting the wrath of the author.

The reviewer of the paper is so far anonymous, but he is one of the few people in England to have an expertise in the topic--Alchemy.  It's hoped that he can remain anonymous to avoid any run-ins or aggravated words with the rejected author who has been known to scare small children and there are whispers of wicked things he did to others who have criticized his work in the past.  Now he has set his sights on getting revenge once again.  There is a wonderful twist at the end of this story, a pulling of the rug from out from under the evil-doer.  M.R. James is a very dependable teller of ghost stories and he is one to look for if you want something traditional and spooky.

My RIP-reading has come to an end for the year.  I even managed to read what I set out to read--four books from my original list.  I hope to still fit in one more ghost story for Halloween before moving on to  my next project.  I am contemplating my choices for Caroline and Lizzy's German Literature Month in November.  I have a pile of books which seems to be growing and will be 'trying a few out' before the First rolls around on Friday.  But more about that soon!

Books of Interest: New & Notable

Just a hodge podge of books today--all ready for the weekend, which I hope will be filled with many hours of reading and perhaps of organizing and maybe even of starting one or two of these 'new to me' new books.  These are all library books from both the library where I work and the public library.  Aren't I lucky to have access to so many books?  From top to bottom:

I've been looking for some good books about leading a solitary life, books on introspection--that sort ot thing.  My friend Cath recommended May Sarton's Journal of Solitude to start out.  Journal format is especially appealing to me at the moment (I was just thinking that I need to get back to my diary project--I miss reading them).  If you have any other good suggestions for books about quiet/peacefulness/solitude--well, you know me.  I am always up for more reading ideas.

Quiet Dell by Jane Anne Phillips sounds intriguing.  Set in Chicago in 1931 it's about a series of murders and has been compared to Truman Capote's In Cold Blood.  Buried in Print has been writing about a number of really interesting-sounding books and this is one of them she recently wrote about.  I've already dipped into it in anticipation.  Just waiting for the weekend.

I've read just one 007 novel (with the intention of reading more of course).  When I saw William Boyd has written "a James Bond Novel", Solo, I had to at least request it.  In this story Bond has just turned forty-five.  It's 1969 and the setting is West Africa, London and Washington.  The description promises a book that is "gripping", "tensely plotted" and one filled with "breathtaking twists".  I'm all up for it.

These last two are books that just this week crossed my desk at work.  (The beauty of working in Acquisitions--first dibs on the new books . . .).  O My America: Six Women and Their Second Acts in the New World by Sara Wheeler.  Intrepid women travelers?  Check.  Women of a certain age?  Check.  Adventure?  Check.  Second chances?  Check.  Right up my alley I think.

I'd heard about Denmark during WWII and the fact that the Danes did everything they could to save the Jews in their country.  Amazing and a hopeful piece of history.  One I would love to read about.  Countrymen: The Untold Story of How Denmark's Jews Escaped the Nazis, of the Courage of their Fellow Danes--and the Extraordinary Role of the SS by Bo Lidegaard.  I am a very slow nonfiction reader and an evern slower reader of history, but I think this is a book I absolutely should make an effort to read in its entirety.

The bookish community that we are part of is so very talented, I always feel a little in awe to be a part of it.  I think I can easily count on two hands the number of bloggers who write seriously and are either working on being published or are published.  Elizabeth Wix, who blogs at The World Examining Works and About New York (she takes the most amazing photographs--do click on over to take a look!) kindly sent me two of her books: Jane in Winter: A Traditional Tale of Magic and Enchantments and Ruth & Gisela.  The first is set in England in the 1950s and is a mixture of "mystery, fantasy, realism and a superbly evil queen".  The latter is set in England and Germany and spans the years from before WWII to nearly present day.  Thanks to Elizabeth for sending them my way--I can't wait to delve into them and now it is just a matter of which one to start with.

A couple of years ago I read and thoroughly enjoyed Audur Ava Olafsdottir's The Greenhouse.  She's an Icelandic author and at the time I was lamenting the fact that there was nothing else by her for me to read in English.  Happily Pushkin Press is going to be releasing Butterflies in November next month, and they very kindly sent me a copy to read now.  Itchy fingers means I'll be cracking this one open very soon as well.  This won the City of Reykjavik Literary Award (her previous novel was award winning, too) and the film rights have been sold.  It is going to be shot in English and will be made up of an international cast of actors.  Butterflies in November is "at once light, comical and uniquely moving.  It is a legacy of life's mistakes; a deliciously unaffected commentary on the nature of relationships and motherhood; a feast of dramatic, rough-hewn landscapes, succulent local delicacies and peculiar customs."

With so many wonderful books all lined up you can see why I want to spend my weekend reading.  Let the dust motes fall where they may and the laundry pile up (well, maybe I will do my laundry), I'm going to have my nose in a book this weekend.  What about you?

The Haunted Hotel by Wilkie Collins

While not my favorite work by Wilkie Collins, or by any stretch his best, time spent with one of his stories is never time wasted.  In this case the story in question is his 1878 novella The Haunted Hotel.  It was serialized in Belgravia magazine in six monthly parts.  According to the introduction he was paid a mere fifty pounds per installment, which must have been a pittance compared to what his other stories must have fetched.  It appears the publishing world thought him past his prime and so compensated him accordingly.  I wouldn't call this story past his prime at all, but it was the last big work before ill health and an opium addiction robbed him of any further masterpieces.

The Haunted Hotel is loosely based on a true crime case from France (as was The Woman in White so says the introduction), so it has a basis in reality but with a good dose of the supernatural as well.  It's set mostly in Venice, a city that Collins loved and knew and was very familiar with, and he was one of the first writers to "explore the strange, hypnotic power of this mysterious city resting on the seething waters of the Adriatic Sea."  The story is, as is usual to a good Wilkie Collins story, peopled with a colorful cast of characters (think Count Fosco in The Woman in White, or Lydia Gwilt in Armadale), the worst of them wicked nd devious indeed.  The Haunted Hotel is as much a mystery as anything, and a murder mystery specifically.  But this is a story that is not straightforward with an ending neatly tied up.  Collins leaves the reader swimming in ambuguities (which I actually like on occasion), so the reader can decide if it is truly a case of murder or death by natural causes.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The Haunted Hotel is narrated by an observer.  It's 1860 and a famed London physician receives in his office a stranger.  He must soon make his hospital rounds, so he'd rather take flight than deal with this unknown woman, but she snags him.  She has a foreign accent and a startling appearance.  Her face is deathly pale, almost corpse-like.  Her large black eyes hold him almost spell-bound.  And she asks him a most unusual question.

"I want to know, if you please, whether I am in danger of going mad?"

Her pallor, she tells him, was caused by a poison from which she very narrowly managed to escape death when she was younger.  She tells him she is a widow and is soon to be married again.  She's being blackmailed into this marriage, however.  If she refuses to marry, unfavorable reports of her character will appear true when she assures him they are not, and her reputation will be ruined.  So she goes through with the nuptials.  Her betrothed formerly had passed time with another young woman who is still in love with him.  Yet she still goes through with the wedding.

Countess Narona is a most interesting character and it's on her, her desires, her reputation, her actions that the outcome of the story hinges.  What follows, a story narrated by the physician (but the reader becomes so immersed in it that all that you forget everything except what's being told to you), is really quite bizarre.  It's one of the strangest stories I've read yet by Wilkie Collins.

Countess Narona, who becomes Lady Montbarry upon her marriage, travels with her husband to Venice.  Along with the couple goes the purported brother of the Countess.  Is he really her brother or something more?  In Venice they stay at an ancient palazzo where Lord Montbarry promptly dies and his courier disappears.  Back in England we meet Agnes Lockwood who is still somewhat infatuated with Lord Montbarry.  Infatuated and disappointed by the turn of events.  And Lord Montbarry's younger brother Henry is in love with her to make things just a little more complicated.  As it was Agnes who helped the courier get the position, his widow comes to her to try and discover what really happened in Venice.  Thus does the story become a detective story as well. 

The palazzo is sold to one of Lord Montberry's family members and is turned into a hotel where strange things happen in the now-dead Lord Montbarry's bedroom.  Very strange things.  Ghostly appearances and disembodied heads show up.  All is seemingly revealed through the Countess's writings, but by story's end she has become so deluded and distracted, the question is--is she telling the truth?  Does she really reveal the details of Lord Montbarry's death, which might or might not mean murder rather than a natural death?  It's hard to know who or what to believe.  Things will come to a head when Agnes Lockwood is driven by Fate (as the Countess believes) to stay at the hotel.  Will she, too, experience the ghostly occurrences in the haunted room? 

The Haunted Hotel is a creepy story with corpses that change identities, heads without bodies and the hint of ghosts.  It's Wilkie Collins at his usual entertaining-self.  If you are looking for a good ghost story, The Haunted Hotel is a worthy choice.  Most years I try and read at least one book by Wilkie Collins.  This novella hit the spot and I still have a short story to read by him this weekend.  If, by the way you are curious about which is my favorite Wilkie Collins novel?  I'd have a hard time choosing between The Woman in White and Armadale.  I've loved everything I've read by him, however.  My RIP reading is nearly finished for the season!

What I Stitched on My Summer Vacation

I wish I had more time to stitch.  I tend to do it in fits and starts and lately have been taking my needlework with me to work to add a few new rows before I begin my day.  It's a slowish process but it's also amazing how much you can accomplish by a slow and steady pace.  Last summer I shared a little project that I had been working on all through the Spring.  Remember my little rabbits?  I made the pincushion for a good friend and decided I would do a little series of needlework smalls (accessories) to celebrate the seasons.

This is my "Summer" project (both in name and season!), which has safely arrived at its destination, so I can share it here now.  The design is by Just Nan, whose designs I love, though there is more switching of colors (she uses a much larger palette even for such a small design as this) than in other small pieces. 

Do you spot the little ladybug hiding behind the flower embellishment on the frame?  She is stitched over one thread, so very tiny work.  I am not overly fond of stitching over one thread, but I love the way it looks in a project.  I wish I had more patience to do more of it (and admire those stitchers who can stitch an entire project entirely over one linen thread).

And one more view a little closer up.  The frame was sold with this design in mind and it looks quite nice with the linen and color scheme I thought.  I have a lot of Just Nan designs (mostly as yet unstitched or works in progress . . . much like my current reading pile).  Her pieces are almost little works of art.  She tends to create such unusual pieces--often they are very labor intensive--special little accessories that require intricate hand/sewing machine finishes.  I love the challenge, but it takes me a long time to work through her project.  They are often sold kitted up using really lavish supplies--colored linens and silk flosses, sometimes hand-dyed.  They, once completed, are really heirlooms.  Sometime I will have to show you my Just Nan stash--both the designs I've stitched and the designs that are in progress (and the designs that are kitted up and ready to go . . .). 

I am now working on an Autumn project for my friend.  It is well underway, and I hope to actually finish it before the seasons change!  I must say that knowing you are making something as a gift for a friend is a great motivator for finishing projects in a timely manner!  Still, I do wish I had more free time to spend on my stitching.  It's too hard trying to decide whether to read or stitch, so I tend to switch back and forth (with reading winning most of the time). 

So, here is the series so far:

"Spring"

"Summer"

"Autumn" coming soon!

Joyland by Stephen King

I really enjoyed Stephen King's Joyland.  It's not really what I expect from someone who mostly writes horror stories.  But then I've not read any of his books for ages, and the smattering I have read are a few of his more famous novels like The Shining, Carrie and the Dark Half, which tend toward darker themes.  And then there have been all the movie adaptations, too, from other books which have in a few cases scared me silly. 

But Joyland is in an entirely different category.  It reminds me of something Ray Bradbury might have written.  It's a sort of coming of age story and crime novel all rolled into one with a nice touch of nostalgia thrown in for good measure (think Stand By Me as adapted to film).  You know you are in the hands of someone with talent when they can write what is essentially a crime novel (albeit one with ghostly overtones) and still have you near to tears (and not from fear or boredom) out of empathy for the characters.  And we're even talking (in a few instances) peripheral characters here, too.

Joyland is narrated from time and distance by the main character.  He's looking back on one heartbreaking, life-changing summer which begins in anguish over a failed relationship.  Yet it is also the summer he comes into his own, gains his independence and becomes an adult.  What happens to Dev this summer not only charts a new course for his life, but as well alters that of a few people around him.  This is a summer of life and of death, of love lost and love found.  It's a summer lifelong friendships are forged.  And it's the summer a long-forgotten mystery is solved and a mother learns how to let go of her son.  Ambitious, yes, but Stephen King pulls it off.

It's 1973 and Devin Jones is beyond smitten by Wendy Keegan.  The two have been dating, but unhappily for Dev the relationship hasn't advanced physically beyond the groping stage.  When she announces she's going to spend the summer in Boston with a friend working, his disappointment is palpable.  As a matter of fact it's thanks in part to Wendy that Dev sets off for Joyland in North Carolina.  It's a job he happens upon by chance when he spots an ad in a local paper.

"And what glum twenty-one-year-old, beset with the growing fear that he might be losing his girlfriend, would not be attracted by the idea of working in a place called Joyland?"

Joyland is a place happiness is made, even if it is only temporary.  It's a smaller park than the big boys like Disney, but for the locals it offers a snatch at fun and entertainment, a little respite from life's drudgeries--even for just a day.  Of course behind the happy facade and the bright lights lurks something infinitely  more sinister and dark.  Years before a murder took place in the Funhouse of Fear.  The woman's body was not found until the next day.  Her screams went unnoticed in a ride where screaming is the norm.  Her killer was never found and the tragic event simply faded into carnival-park folklore. 

Wendy urges Dev to try for the job, which entails doing a little bit of everything.  For Dev it means spending lots of time in the Howie the Hound suit, which on hot days is mercilessly stifling.  But Dev has a knack for it.  Though he spends many angst-ridden hours thinking about Wendy and wondering why she dumped him, it's not necessarily a bad existence he leads that summer.  He even manages to hold his own with the other carny-folk, and when his friends prepare to return to college as summer turns to fall, Dev decides to stay on.  It's what happens after the park closes for the season that makes the story really heat up and move along at a brisk pace.

The story, however circuitously it travels, is ultimately about a murder.  King builds and shapes and molds all the disparate characters and storytelling threads until it moves towards that final exciting trajectory that holds in it a small surprise or two.  I thought it quite masterfully done--the sort of storytelling I like where the reader is grabbed from the start and wafted along with each new piece of information, or new character or event in the story pieced together until the larger picture emerges.  I had forgotten just how good a writer Stephen King is. 

Joyland is a perfect RIP/autumn/Halloween read.  Did I see somewhere that movie rights have been sold?  Not suprising.  Joyland is yet another nicely atmospheric read, but one that doesn't just rely on atmosphere.  He creates such a weird, wild (though not too much of either) world of amusement parks, already so unique, but adding a flavor all its own to the story.  There is just a hint of the paranormal--the murder mystery being unraveled, a ghostly sighting or two buut nothing too far out of reality.

This is my second (of four) RIP reads (loved Susan Hill's The Man in the Picture).  Wilkie Collins is on my writing agenda for later this week and I've got a few more short stories to read.  Just in time for Halloween. 

Thanks to Titan Books for sending this one my way.  They have a whole series of books called Hard Case Crime that are worth checking out.

Weekend Reading: More Samplings

. . . and other miscellaneous items.  It was a cold, rainy day last May when the first local farmer's market was held.  But this weekend's last farmer's market of the season was chock full of autumn goodness and it was a gorgeous, crisp fall day!  As you can see there was an abundance of produce and I came away with a bag full of delicious apples (my favorite fruit), beautiful, big red peppers (a literal steal at 50 cents a pepper), and . . .

. . . several jars of local organic honey as well as a few jars of jellies and butters.  I am ruined when it comes to jams now.  I will only buy homemade jellies and jams from It's All About the Bees.  Every visit to the weekend farmer's market usually yielded some new flavor (this is my 'sweet' weakness)--gooseberry and anything ginger being my favorites closely followed by pear butter.  Yum. 

The owner brought along some of her bees this weekend, so I had to share them here, as I think they are pretty cool.  It's pretty amazing that honey is thanks to these little guys.  Much like Winnie the Pooh, I think I could happily eat honey straight from the jar, though I usually content myself with just an occasional spoonful in my tea.

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A little digression there, but I had such a nice weekend, I had to share pictures.  Reading back over last May's post, I see I have made little progress in some books though I have moved on to new and different stories in other cases.  So, no time was spent with Charles Palliser's Quincunx this weekend.  Truly, I am determined to finish it this year.  I had hoped to finish it by the end of this month but alas, those plans have had to be revised.  I see it was my coffee-shop companion last May.  This morning's companion (one of them anyway, the main one) was Vikram Seth's A Suitable Boy.  The idea is to read two sections per month with the goal of finishing the book next summer (all 1,400+ pages).  Last month I managed to do so just in time.  I am hoping I can still read the next two sections in the next week or so, but I might be just a little optimistic there.  As for the Palliser . . . well, I have a few other books on the reading agenda this week, but I'll get back to it soon.  Maybe it is time to recount the number of pages left, divide by the number of days left in the year and try and read just enough pages to finish by January 31?  Whatever it takes to unravel the mystery of the quincunx!

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I was reading the first volume of Call the Midwife, a book I loved (though never did get around to writing about).  I've lately thought it is about time to read the second book, but this weekend I decided to start reading Carolyn Burke's biography of photographer Lee Miller, which I think might be just what I need (to kick start my nonfiction reading).  She was a talented, interesting and very intriguing woman.  I generally love reading memoirs and biographies and am already mentally thinking about others I might read still this year (about Katherine Mansfield maybe, or Elizabeth Taylor?).

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I see that last May I was (as I am wont to do every few months it seems) reshuffling books and reassessing reading plans.  I've been doing that once again since I came back from vacation.  I put back on my bookshelves a few books that I am not quite clicking with and which I have not made much progress in, and have pulled out a new book or two, but mostly I have looked at my rather towering 'in progress but languishing pile in order to rescue a few.  So, out has come Peter May's The Lewis Man, which I have fallen back into quite easily.  I am very much in a mood for mysteries now, but rather than continually pick up new books I am going to finish the May first!  (I already have in mind the my next read, however).

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I'm also back to Herman Wouk's Marjorie Morningstar, which came with me on vacation but mostly was neglected.  It is another book I am finding very engaging (and right now the more engaging the story the better as I hate feeling out of sorts with my reading and am happy to have at least gotten back into some sort of routine!).  It's set in 1930s NYC and I like Marjorie.  I like reading about that period and I like that there are bits about her Jewish upbringing.  Lots of interest to me in the story.

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And this week's reading (in the hopes of finishing by month's end)?  Ambitious plans, which I am sure I will not be able to achieve, but I will valiantly try anyway.  I'm going to be starting Isabel Colegate's The Shooting Party and Vasily Grossman's Everything Flows.  Both are 'readalong' books, though I'll be 'reading along', I have a feeling I will be finishing on my own.  Who knows, though, maybe if I really focus, I can accomplish more than I think.  And there is still my postal reading group book, which I have made little progress in, even though the story is interesting.  

Too bad time doesn't grow on trees.  I'd go outside and pick myself a few extra hours every day!

Okay, one more photo for the road.  Look what's just around the corner.  Yikes.  Where has the year gone?