Month: November 2007

Tom’s Midnight Garden

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I’m very bad – despite a teetering pile of books to be reviewed, a nostalgic conversation with a friend led me to take a break and read Tom’s Midnight Garden. What is more astounding is that this is the first time I’ve read the book. Astounding because I know every word, more or less, already…

I have very vague recollections of watching Tom’s Midnight Garden the first time it was shown on the BBC, but since I was 3 or 4, I’m not sure how genuine those memories are – but Our Vicar and Our Vicar’s Wife wisely taped the programmes, six in all, and they joined a small filmography of videos to be Watched When Ill. Alongside the Chronicles of Narnia and Pride and Prejudice, this drama was akin to medication, and no day of lying convalescent was complete without one of them. Because I’ve seen it so often, it came as quite a shock the other day when I realised that I haven’t seen Tom’s Midnight Garden for about a decade – but it didn’t take long before every detail came swarming back. My friend Clare and I had a conversation littered with squeals and ‘oh yes’s while each bit of the drama slotted back into place. They just don’t make kids’ shows like that anymore…

Anyway, before this becomes a 1990s nostalgia (or 1989, to be precise) I should probably fill people in. Some of you may not have heard of Tom and his Midnight Garden, and be wondering what on earth I’m talking about. Philippa Pearce’s 1958 children’s book, now a classic, is about a boy called Tom who must spend the summer with his Uncle Alan and Aunt Gwen to avoid his brother’s measles. They live in a flat within a large, old house, one which, to Tom’s disappointment, has no garden. He is bored, and cannot sleep – but his strict uncle ensures he’s in bed for ten hours a night. The house has an old grandfather clock in the hall, which strikes loudly and inaccurately throughout the building. At night, Tom hears the clock strike thirteen (like the beginning of 1984, isn’t that?) and reasons that he has been granted an extra hour to the day – and thus can spend ten hours in bed and get up now. When downstairs, he can’t read the clock face, and so opens the door to get the moonlight… and reveals an enormous and beautiful garden.

The book takes us through Tom’s adventures in the garden over the course of several months, and his friendship with Hatty, a little girl in the garden who can see him although the others can’t. Some wonderful twists and events, and gradual comprehension, but I shan’t spoil any of that for people yet to encounter Tom.

Having now read the delightful book, I am amazed at how accurate the BBC version was – my memory of it is not sharp enough to know whether or not they added things, but there was scarcely a line in the book which didn’t make it onto screen. Impressive. If anyone’s not read the book, do so now. If anyone’s not seen the BBC version, I’m afraid you’ll have to have deep pockets – the video goes for about £50, secondhand…

Presents and I-Wish Presents!

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Thank you Danielle!

You may remember that I recently offered Miss Hargreaves up for a book swap, having happened upon her in a secondhand bookshop in Oxford, and she was sent off over the Atlantic to Danielle. Danielle has her own blog here, and it is great fun, and very popular. The amount she manages to read and blog about puts me to shame, truly. Anyway, she very kindly reciprocated with not one but two books – here they are:

The Haunted Bookshop and Parnassus on Wheels by Christopher Morley. I haven’t read either of them, but have heard about Morley, and The Haunted Bookshop has been mentioned to me with glee a few times over the years. So glad to have beautiful copies of them, and they’ve slotted right into the tbr mountain. What with review books, and lovely gifts, and impulse buys, I’m not making the dent in the pile I envisaged for this season… especially since I keep getting lured off on side-tracks. Wait until you hear what I’ve been reading at the moment…


So, those are the genuine gifts. And what is it I wish I had? Only available in America so far, but…

How could you NOT want this?? Amazon.com, you are too tempting…

To Loan or Not To Loan?

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One of the things which came up during the How Clean Is Your Book? debate (sorry, that will probably mean nothing to non-UK visitors) was a question which links into the to-scrawl-or-not-to-scrawl dilemma. Well, not really a dilemma – don’t think I’ve encountered anyone who was indecisive or unsure on this point – whereas the subsidiary question provokes, I would imagine, rather less black-and-white reactions.

To loan or not to loan?

While we all agreed we wouldn’t write in books which were borrowed, do you borrow? Do you follow old Polonius’ advice and avoid being either a lender or a borrowed, knowing that one loses the friendship with the one, and something about keeping, or…. ok, I can’t remember the *exact* quotation, but I’m sure you know the one about which I’m talking. One of the defences for scrawling was that the book is for one reader’s eyes only – if they’re never loaned out, then nobody can object.

It must be the librarian in me – I love lending and borrowing books. Love it. Must admit, when I borrow books I tend to end up buying them anyway, since I like to have copies of books I’ve read – partly, to go full circle, because I can then lend them to other people. The main argument against lending books, of course, is that they somehow don’t find their way back – I must have been fortunate in the people I chose, because I’ve never had that problem. Each of my books is like a homing pigeon… yes, there is one person who’s had a pile of my books for four years, but I have had a pile of her books for the same length of time, and I know the piles will be exchanged in good time. Something about borrowing a book makes it even more special than following up a recommendation (though that is also great) – a real connection between reading friends.Exceptions and Problems…
1) I don’t lend Miss Hargreaves… she might be the only one. I’d be distraught if she went missing. While I’m on her, think there’s a UK copy on ebay at the moment… Just checked, there are actually two. Go to it!2) Isn’t it awkward when you lend to someone who isn’t as keen as they sound, and the weeks go by, and you know they’re never going to actually read it… how does one ask for it back politely? I tend to let book-love go about etiquette, and just ask for it back…3) And in reverse – when someone presses something on you. You quite like it, but don’t want to be trapped in a spiral of reading things by that author until your friend’s collection has run out. “I enjoyed it – will let you know if I’d like to borrow more, thanks” never sounds convincing, does it?

4) Please don’t lie to me. If you didn’t notice that about thirty pages are accidentally reprinted, then you didn’t read it… this happened to me once…

Despite these issues, I love lending and borrowing! By post, in person, all good.
Howsabout you??

Fame and/or Fortune!

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Just spent a very nice weekend at The Carbon Copy’s in Bristol, wandering the parks and getting lost, that sort of thing. Since his hair has grown a bit, and mine has been cut (the sketch is not quite accurate anymore) and we both have glasses now (for distance only, not reading, so the sketch is on the ball there) we look more alike than ever. I’ve missed those lingering ‘are-they-twins-or-aren’t-they’ glances, which we received in bucketloads over the course of two days. The novelty never wears off for me – I love people getting us mixed up, or staring, or commenting. Fun fun. Our Vicar and Our Vicar’s Wife also popped up, and we had a first read-through of our Christmas sketch, to be performed at the village show. More on’t later…

And now to the FAME. Thanks, Lynne, for bringing this to my attention – I’ve been mentioned in the Guardian’s ‘From The Blogs’, follow this link and read down a bit. Lynne is mentioned too, I must add. Sorry for sharing my excitement so unsubtly, but it’s virgin territory for me, and I get a definite kick out of seeing my name in print. In fact…. I don’t know if this is just a web thing, or if it’s a copy of the Saturday paper – if the latter, does anyone have a spare copy of the article they could send me?? Shameless, I know, but it *would* be a lovely piece to keep in a scrapbook or something… let me know on simondavidthomas@yahoo.co.uk and receive my undying gratitude!

Dorothy Whipple, how I do love thee

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Though I now space them out, a new Persephone Books read is always a wonderful treat, and something to be treasured. When I first found out about this publishing company, through their publishing of Richmal Crompton’s Family Roundabout, I went on a bit of a rampage, and read lots. Though they cover quite a range of decades, genres, authors, forms – and, yes, some of the writers are even male! – there is something unmistakably Persephone about everything they issue, and thus something unmistakably great. The Closed Door and Other Stories, one of the latest batch of three, was no different. Nicola Beauman, who runs Persephone Books, very kindly sent me this to review when I made ingratiating noises in her direction – and, of course, I loved it.

Most aficiandos of Persephone agree that Dorothy Whipple is one of their major finds. Crompton and EM Delafield were already firm favourites with me, and I was delighted to see them come back into the light of day, but it is Whipple who has been the nicest new face. Though decidedly a domestic-fiction-writer, she demonstrates that this need not mean anything derogatory about writing style. Nicola Beauman has had to fiercely defend Whipple against some critiques over the past few years, mostly from people who, bewilderingly, have been against niche publishing in any shape or form – but just pick up Someone at a Distance or They Knew Mr. Knight and it is indisputable that Whipple needed bringing back into print.

The Closed Door and Other Stories is different from any other Whipple I’ve read, not least because it’s short stories rather than full-length prose. The first story, ‘The Closed Door’, is easily the longest – 75 or so pages – and the other eight are snapshots of characters’ lives. I read them all together at a fast pace, which probably isn’t the ideal way to approach short stories, and I must confess I found a lot of them to be quite similar – a daughter (always a daughter) is repressed by her selfish parents who expect her to act like a servant, and dismiss any academic or romantic ambitions the daughter has. I like that Whipple doesn’t aggrandise either of these ambitions over the other, but sees both as valid modes of self-expression and fulfilment. Anyway, as you read more of the stories in the collection this scenario becomes very familiar – but each story presents a different ending/solution/irresolution. ‘After Tea’ is an especially nice contrast. When presented together, the particular culminations grow even more significant, playing off against each other, and become less ‘closing’, as it were – more problematic, occasionally more triumphant.

Against the stories which fall into this mould, a couple stand out as really beautiful evocations of character and predicament – ‘The Rose’ and ‘Wednesday’ particularly. The latter is quite a brave portrait – a divorcee adulteress (though one coerced into it by her husband, we are led to understand) on one of her monthly permitted visits to her children. Agonising and realistic and a painful gem.

In case you hadn’t ascertained this yet – The Closed Door is a book definitely worth buying! Just spread the stories out a bit.

Library Life

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Time for a bit of a library update, I think, before we plunge back into the world of literature – review coming up tomorrow of one of the latest Persephone books, so keep your eyes open for that. This week I have been shadowing one of the other library trainees, but have yet to leave the Science arena – but rather than the torrent of scientific subjects bundled into the aptly named Radcliffe Science Library, my usual home, these have been rather more specific. Started the week in Zoology and Ornithology (let me tell you, pictures of birds are rather more appealing than Heart Surgery Weekly or Dermatology Update) and now in Plant Science. Ever wondered how much forestation there is in Canada? Me neither, but it’s the place to be if you ever do. Having said that, it seems our indifference is shared by the populus of Oxford, as all of these libraries are fairly empty. In fact, I don’t think there was a single enquiry in the Plant Science library today – certainly not whilst I was around. Even without the general public milling around, though, I enjoyed today – I was processing books and journals. In the RSL this is all done by the cataloguing staff in a separate section of the library – the benefit of a smaller library is that it’s all hands on deck.

So, I’m sticking stickers, measuring spines, attaching plastic covers, gluing in date sheets, ya-dah-ya-dahhhhhhhhwaitaminutewhat?! I have to STAMP the SIDES of the BOOK?? With a rubber stamp? Emblazon ‘Oxford University Library Services’ on all three sides of a book which aren’t the spine? Oh dear. You’ll have gathered over the past few days that I’m not a big fan of writing in/on/near/over or under books. In fact the only preposition I’ll concede is ‘about’ – I love writing about books. But stamping dirty great rubber stamps all over them? Houston, we have a problem. And that is the central paradox to librarianship. Despite what we are told, I hope against hope that people becoming librarians love books. Yes, we have to love aiding research, and the latest technology, and guiding people, and making information accessible – all essential. But surely we should love books too? And there is a certain type of book-lover (not all) who cannot bear to see the poor things covered in possessive ink. So I had to screw up my eyes and stamp the thing within an inch of its life, feeling like a hoodlum… now I can feel the books in my room looking at me reproachfully… there’ll be warning posters distributed around my shelves soon.

Anyone concerned for my sanity, email mad@libraryboy.co.uk…

Sense and Cinematography

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I saw The Jane Austen Book Club at the cinema tonight, and thought I’d use its various links to literature to excuse a rather more pop-cultural reference than usual… I read Karen Joy Fowler’s novel, from which the film was adapted, over the summer – must confess, not very impressed. Lots of unnecessary sex and not enough literary comment. My preference probably puts me in the minority, but with ‘Jane Austen’ in the title, I hope I’m not alone… Anyway, it was fun to read the novel and spot comparisons and parallels with JA’s oeuvre, but that was about where the enjoyment ended, give or take a few quite emotional scenes. Essentially six people meet up to discuss the six JA novels, one chosen by each of them, and the resultant book group is a backdrop for their relationship goings-on – divorcee, lesbian, teacher-with-crush-on-student, woman with Wife of Bath tendencies, dog-loving singleton and convenient token male. With SciFi obsession, like all guys, obviously.

The film hadn’t removed any of these elements, but I am more forgiving of modern films than I am modern novels – largely, I imagine, because I’ve seen hardly any older films. Somehow what seemed rather fatuous and saccharine in prose became sweet and passingly profound on the silver screen. It was refreshing that they anticipated their viewers had read at least some Jane Austen – reminds me of a different experience sitting in the cinema while watching the 2005 Pride and Prejudice; the number of people who laughed uproariously at certain bits suggested they hadn’t encountered them in prose beforehand. Literary snobbishness over… for a moment or two, anyway. Where was I? Oh yes – the film laboured the parallels between novels and book group members even more than the novel did, but that was quite entertaining. What really made the film work was the cast – especially the brilliant Emily Blunt as Prudie, the teacher-with-a-crush. Her marriage was falling apart; she joined a book group to avoid thinking about her thoughtless husband, and cannot countenance other members being trivial or unacademic. Oh, and she speaks in French quite a bit – despite having a potentially irritating character, Blunt makes Prudie loveable and endearing. I didn’t know the rest of the cast before (except Lynn Redgrave, who makes a fleeting and funny appearance as Prudie’s hippy mother) but they are a great ensemble.

Worth a watch, if only because IMDB imaginatively lists the Plot Keywords as ‘Book Club / German Shepherd’…

Big Read

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Does anyone remember the BBC’s Big Read? It was in 2003, and is sadly also the last bookish programme they’ve shown on terrestrial, so far as I’m aware. I’ve just about got used to the fact that popular television will be far, far removed from literary matters – mostly being devoted to reality shows or cheap drama or sport. I like the odd bits of the first two of these, but the humdrum of terrestrial television became unfathomably lightened up by The Big Read. A lot of people have scoffed at it, or thought the Beeb were dumbing down in their presentation of great literature – nothing is more likely, but it is so rare for books to make primetime that I took everything else as a bonus. For people who missed it, or live in a country which doesn’t show BBC, I’ll give you an intro. Incidentally, though, the US channel which has the word ‘BBC’ in it – BBC UK or something, maybe? – is so much better than our version! You get the classic sitcoms and so forth that they haven’t shown here for decades, or are used when snooker matches don’t last as long as anticipated. Tshaw. Grumble over. The Big Read asked people across the country to nominate their favourite fictional book ever (favourite, mind, rather than the one they believed to be the best – a huge difference. My family are my favourite people, but I am not so blind as to suggest they are the best people. Sorry folks!) A list of 100 was compiled, and revealed, with the top 21 given only in alphabetical order. The ensuing seven weeks saw programmes devoted to three of these books at a time, and an eventual final, which saw Lord of the Rings being voted the best book ever. Ahem. Well, if the word ‘convention’ is not congruous with a book, then the fans are likely to be the type to ‘phone in… ooo, catty! I loved the programme from beginning to end, even when Pride and Prejudice was advertised as being “all about sex!” – all? Really? – and got my first taste of literary e-conversation in the Big Read Forum. The eventual list was a pleasing combination of classics and potential discoveries, and not overrun with modern things which would be forgotten by 2004, thank goodness. The whole list can be found here, but I’m going to offer a rather more subjective view… of the top 100, here are the ones I’ve read, in the order that I like them. Like, not evaluate, you understand. Though the same one comes bottom on both, believe me. A lot of nostalgia on this list… You can thus work out which ones I’ve not read, and gasp at the order in which I put them…
-Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
-Emma (Jane Austen)
-Winnie the Pooh (AA Milne)
-Rebecca (Daphne du Maurier)
-I Capture the Castle (Dodie Smith)
-The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (CS Lewis)
-Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (Lewis Carroll)
-Cold Comfort Farm (Stella Gibbons)
-1984 (George Orwell)
-Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
-Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
-The Wind in the Willows (Kenneth Grahame)
-The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (JK Rowling)
-Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (JK Rowling)
-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (JK Rowling)
-Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (JK Rowling)
-Little Women (Louisa M. Alcott)
-David Copperfield (Charles Dickens)
-Persuasion (Jane Austen)
-Tess of the D’Urbervilles (Thomas Hardy)
-Animal Farm (George Orwell)
-Goodnight Mister Tom (Michelle Magorian)
-The Magic Faraway Tree (Enid Blyton)
-Double Act (Jacqueline Wilson)
-The Great Gatsby (F Scott Fitzgerald)
-The Story of Tracy Beaker (Jacqueline Wilson)
-Of Mice and Men (John Steinbeck)
-Matilda (Roald Dahl)
-Bridget Jones’s Diary (Helen Fielding)
-Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (Roald Dahl)
-The Catcher in the Rye (JD Salinger)
-The BFG (Roald Dahl)
-Ulysses (James Joyce)
-Captain Corelli’s Mandolin (Louis de Bernieres)

Grammar Police

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Inspiration is dry tonight, so shall try to show you a cartoon Mel drew for me a while ago. My natural inclination for accuracy, and generous willingness to bestow such accuracy on others (which said ‘others’ have been known to label pedantry) led to the joking initiation of the Grammar Police. With appropriate disciplinary action. Click on the picture to enlarge it – in case that doesn’t work, I’ve included a typed version below.


“So I told him, I didn’t know who she was going with…”

“Freeze! Her Majesty’s Secret Grammar Police!
My duty compels me to retract that sentence and replace it with ‘I didn’t know with whom she was going’. And to administer the following penalty…”

*WHAP* with the Oxford English Dictionary

“Ow… What the…?”

“You reckon she’s going with Pete though?” “Yeah…”

Let’s Put Shakespeare Among The Pigeons

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Goodness, Booking Through Thursday brought out some strong opinions, didn’t it? How strange – we all love the contents of books, but have disparate views about the vehicle for that content. A few of the comments made me ponder, and I’ll meander through some musings – but this post is mostly about Billybob. My very lovely parents, Our Vicar and Our Vicar’s Wife, heeded my unsubtle references this year, and I now have the new RSC edition of the Collected Works. Oh, it is BEAUTIFUL. I ‘needed’ another one, because of the scribblings in my old copy, and the fact that the spine has fallen off – and this one came recommended by Judi Dench. Says so on the back. (Just seen the Dame in Cranford, which was wonderful, though the odd amalgam of three sources was a little hit-and-miss). Anyway, my new Shakespeare. It comes in its own box, much like Folio books, and has that pretty yellow design on it. Feels great; smells great (and I’m not usually a fan of New Book Smell, preferring Old Book Smell. That’s another interesting division for book lovers, with people firmly and resolutely in one camp or the other); can’t honestly say it sounds or tastes great, but three out of five senses isn’t bad. As Susan Hill wrote on her blog a while ago, I think, if one is buying a classic which is available everywhere, then of course appearances and so forth are going to influence one’s choice. So judging by covers is positively sensible in this case.

And I warn you – write in it and heads will roll.
It’s not that I think books are sacred objects – but neither is wallpaper. Wouldn’t scrawl over that either. And while I love to make my own response to a book and its ideas, that has to go on in my head – I’d hate to return to re-read a book and discover I couldn’t read the book – only read my previous response to it. Perhaps because there is something eternal about a book, and something so transitory about my thoughts when reading it. Contrarily, though, I enjoy finding secondhand books with people’s opinions in them. Especially if they’ve been done in pencil, of course. That way I can read the book and make up my own mind, and see what they’ve thought – if it’s my own writing, then I just feel slightly mad disagreeing with my previous self…

Just musing. No point in trying to convince anyone to see my point of view, or vice versa, because somehow one’s sensitivity or otherwise to books themselves is inbuilt and impossible to alter. But there isn’t the slightest chance of it stopping others reading, I shouldn’t think, as there are enough scrawlers out there for it to be a valid option for anyone wanting to do that. Just so long as people learn NEVER to do it in books they’ve borrowed (I know nobody visiting here would dream of it). Or in front of me, please.
(!!)

For now, just admire my beautiful collection of Billybob – and I relish the fact that the words are even more beautiful. I feel a re-read of All’s Well That Ends Well coming up next…