Ranking 14 books I’ve read recently

Thank you SO much for all your kind words and support recently. I’m not out of the woods yet, but I’m going to make a gradual return to book blogging. And I wanted to clear the decks on the books that have been waiting to be reviewed, some of them for many months.

And, you know me. I love to rank things. So I put 14 books in order, from least liked to most liked. In fact, I only disliked one of them, but I also didn’t fall in love with many of them either. Let’s start at the bottom of the pile.

14. Nice Work by David Lodge

This is my first novel by Lodge, and it’s sort of an updating of Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South, where an academic type starts shadowing someone at a factory. Everyone in it is annoying, and Lodge is obSESSed with writing scenes of people going to the toilet. There are more in the first third of this novel than in all the other novels I’ve read, combined. Also, his satire (?) of academic speak isn’t heightened or exaggerated, and thus is the sort of conversation I’m so familiar with that it didn’t seem funny at all.

13. Kind Hearts and Coronets by Roy Horniman

This 1908 novel is actually called Israel Rank, but this reprint has changed the title to match the famous film it inspired. In the novel, Israel Rank realises he can inherit a title and great wealth if he bumps off all the people in between. His motivation is the antisemitism he has faced – though the novel decries antisemitism in quite an antisemitic way. It’s described as a dark comedy but I couldn’t really see where it was funny. It’s just rather horrible, and pretty methodical so not especially pacey.

12. She and I by Pamela Frankau

I’d love to suggest a Frankau for the British Library Women Writers series, but this one won’t be it. It’s about a love triangle – and then a later love triangle with the same two men and a different woman, who may or may not be a reincarnation of sorts of the first. An interesting idea, but all very abstract and hard to pin down. And, sign, antisemitic.

11. The Noise of Time by Julian Barnes

This is a novel about Shostakovitch, about whom I know nothing. I think it would be better for people who do – though perhaps then it would be too predictable. As with my other Barnes experience, I found it readable but not more than ‘quite good’.

10. Slowness by Milan Kundera

I love Kundera and I enjoyed reading this, so it’s only placed here because I don’t remember a single thing about it.

9. A field Guide to Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit

When I picked this up, I didn’t know that Solnit is a widely-known and loved essayist. And I loved the more personal essays here. She lost me a bit when she got too historical – and I found the register slightly difficult to grab hold of at time. Maybe a little too academic for my liking. But an undeniably good prose stylist.

8. The Glory and the Dream by Viola Larkins

A preacher falls in love with an adventurous, frivolous woman (despite her being more or less engaged to another man). Passion overwhelms them – but after they are married, they realise how unsuitable they are for each other. Enjoyable 1930s stuff, but misses that vital spark to make it something wonderful.

7. Shelf Life by Suzanne Strempek Shea

A memoir about working in a bookshop – fun! It also covers a range of other things, including Shea’s time touring as a writer and her experience of cancer. I mainly came away with the intrigue that she hates when people pronounce her surname She-ah, but doesn’t tell us how it is actually pronounced.

6. The Wildings by Richmal Crompton

Crompton obviously liked this novel, because she wrote a couple of sequels. It starts a bit unpromisingly, with every paragraph ending in intriguing ellipses, but I liked it more as it went on – seeing how David Wilding copes with leaving the family firm, and manages his attachments to his jealous wife and his overlooked sister.

5. Thornyhold by Mary Stewart

This is my first Stewart and it was good fun – a woman inherits her aunt’s enormous house, and becomes part of a secretive community. And… could she be a witch? I think I’d love this more if the writing had been a bit better. She does pace rip-roaringly but, sentence by sentence, it’s a little workmanlike. Maybe (and I so seldom say this) it needed to be a bit longer?

4. Across the Common by Elizabeth Berridge

My read of this kicked off a few people buying Berridge, largely because of Reg Cartwright’s wonderful covers – see tweet – but it’s worth a read on its own merits too. It is not the Angela Carteresque surreal novel that the blurb suggests, but a tale of memory, regret, forgiveness that comes out when the heroine leaves her husband and moves in with three elderly aunts.

3. The Game by A.S. Byatt

My goodness, Byatt writes good sentences. I haven’t read her for ages, but this novel about sister rivalry between an academic and a novelist – thrown to the surface when a childhood friend re-emerges – was startling good, sentence by sentence. The reason it didn’t top my list is because I didn’t quite know what was going on in some flashbacks, and felt the whole was not quite the sum of its parts. But I think it would reward a re-read one day.

2. A Village in a Valley by Beverley Nichols

The last of Nichols’ Down the Garden Path trilogy, it’s still not in the same league as the Merry Hall trilogy but it’s good fun – particularly all the sweet stuff about helping a local woman open up a shop, despite the likelihood of it all going wrong.

1. Doctor Thorne by Anthony Trollope

The only book from the list that I really, REALLY loved is one that took me about six months to finish – because Trollope certainly isn’t concise. The plot is about secret inheritances and couples who might not be able to marry because of poverty, but the plot is dragged out and (especially in the second half) very predictable. What makes this wonderful is Trollope’s delightful turn of sentence, and the leisurely and assured way he takes us through each conversation, reflection, and narrative flourish. A protracted joy.

Quick update

Thanks so, so much to everyone for your prayers and kind words. I wanted to give a quick update – still no diagnosis, and still doing various tests etc., but I have been back to more-or-less normal for reading in the past few days.

Throughout all of this, symptoms have come and gone a lot, so I’m not counting my chickens yet – and I’m going to extend my blogging break a little – but didn’t want to go completely radio silence.

Announcing the next batch of British Library Women Writers!

First, a quick aside – I’m going to take a little break from blogging, I think, because I’ve had an ongoing and mysterious illness for a couple of months that has many and various symptoms, but most recently has affected my eyes – making it quite difficult to read (argh!!) and I’m limiting my screentime. Hopefully will get diagnosis or cure soon, or it’ll just go away! (Yes, have had covid test, but it was negative…) Praying folk, would welcome your prayers.

BUT before I slip away, I had to share that the next four British Library Women Writers books have been announced!

The first batch were partly my choices and partly the British Library’s (though all great!) – this time, they’re all mine! Here’s a quick guide to them…

Dangerous Ages by Rose Macaulay
Macaulay is perhaps best remembered for her final novels, The Towers of Trebizond and The World My Wilderness, but I prefer her prolific period in the 1920s. Her novels then are funnier, lighter, but equally penetrating into the contemporary world. In Dangerous Ages, she considers various different generations of women, and covers things like Freudianism, free love, employment for older women etc. It’s all there.

Father by Elizabeth von Arnim
An unjustly neglected E von A novel, about Jennifer – an unmarried woman trying to escape her father’s dominance. It’s got a lot to say about being a single woman in the 1930s, but it’s also extremely funny.

Tea Is So Intoxicating by Mary Essex
This is the one to get if you just want a laugh. It follows the ups and downs of opening a tea garden in post-WW2 rural England.

O, The Brave Music by Dorothy Evelyn Smith
The book I am MOST excited to see back in print! It’s a coming-of-age novel about Ruan, a young girl living on the edge of the Yorkshire moors, dealing with family tragedy and emotional turmoil, and finding solace with a make-shift family of other people. But I can’t do it justice. It’s an all-enveloping, glorious novel that should be the next I Capture the Castle, if there’s any justice in the world.

When are they coming out? Dangerous Ages is next month in the UK, and the others will follow in the autumn. I’ll keep you posted as they appear – not sure about dates in the US, though think they’ll be there at some point.

And aren’t they GORGEOUS?

Tea or Books? #86: Empathy vs Sympathy and The Child That Books Built vs When I Was A Child I Read Books

Marilynne Robinson, Francis Spufford, empathy and sympathy!

Welcome to episode 86, in which we talk about characters we feel empathetic towards and those we feel sympathetic towards. And if you aren’t sure of the distinction, don’t worry, we’ve got that covered too.

In the second half, we compare two books with similar titles but very different contents: When I Was a Child I Read Books by Marilynne Robinson and The Child That Books Built by Francis Spufford.

Do get in touch if you have any suggestions for topics or a question for the middle bit – we’re at teaorbooks[at]gmail.com. Find us in your podcast app of choice, on Spotify, or on Apple Podcasts. And you can support us on Patreon, where there are also bonus ten-minute episodes from me.

The books and authors we mention in this episode are:

The Game by A.S. Byatt
Possession by A.S. Byatt
The Matisse Stories by A.S. Byatt
The Children’s Book by A.S. Byatt
The Vanishing Act by Adrian Alington
Dorothy L Sayers
Agatha Christie
Diary of a Provincial Lady by E.M. Delafield
Mr Norris Changes Trains by Christopher Isherwood
Goodbye To Berlin by Christopher Isherwood
Decline and Fall by Evelyn Waugh
Henry James
Prater Violet by Christopher Isherwood
Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
Emma by Jane Austen
Ian McEwan
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson
Dr Thorne by Anthony Trollope
The Warden by Anthony Trollope
Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope
The Vicar of Wakefield by Oliver Goldsmith
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
Lady Susan by Jane Austen
Ivy Compton-Burnett
I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
Biggles series by W.E. Johns
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood
Any Human Heart by William Boyd
The Mirror and the Light by Hilary Mantel
The Way We Live Now by Meg Rosoff
My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier
Wish Her Safe at Home by Stephen Benatar
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak
The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald
White Cargo by Felicity Kendal
William Shakespeare
The Town in Bloom by Dodie Smith
Look Back With Love by Dodie Smith
Look Back With Astonishment by Dodie Smith
Look Back With Mixed Feelings by Dodie Smith
Opening Night by Ngaio Marsh
Wise Children by Angela Carter
Mansfield Park by Jane Austen
Lover’s Vows by Elizabeth Inchbald
Sea Change by Elizabeth Jane Howard
At Freddie’s by Penelope Fitzgerald
Molly Fox’s Birthday by Deirdre Madden
Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson
Famous Five series by Enid Blyton
Bookworm by Lucy Mangan
The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien
The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis
Little House on the Prarie by Laura Ingalls Wilder
Golden Hill by Francis Spufford
Crossriggs by Jane and Mary Findlater
Emma by Jane Austen

T.H. White: A Biography by Sylvia Townsend Warner

This week is Sylvia Townsend Warner Reading Week, organised by Helen at A Gallimaufry – I was mulling over which collection of short stories to take off the shelf when I decided to do a bit more of a curveball. I bought Warner’s biography of T.H. White (published 1967) nine years ago, and I can’t remember whether that was before or after I read her letters with David Garnett, in which they discuss it a lot. And, indeed, White’s letters – which Garnett edited.

Much like when I read Roger Fry by Virginia Woolf, this is one of those times when I’m more interested in biographer than subject – but a very intriguing portrait emerged nonetheless.

I’ve only read one book by White – Mistress Masham’s Repose, which is sort of a long-distance sequel to Gulliver’s Travels – but I probably saw the Disney Sword in the Stone at some point and he’s one of those names that is around a lot. For most people, he is best known for his Arthurian links – but I believe he has more recently taken on fame by association with Helen Macdonald’s H is for Hawk, in which he features.

Hawking is one of the passions that comes out in Warner’s depiction of White. She is not a biographer who gives equal weight to all the different stages of a man’s life. She zooms straight through childhood in a handful of pages (which didn’t bother me at all; I always want to find out about an author being an author, not a child). What she draws out is White’s love of animals and particularly hawks, his writing, and his isolation.

Some years are dwelt on for so long that I began to feel trapped – 1939, for instance – whereas others flash by. We learn that White’s one real love in life was a dog called Brownie, and she is perhaps the most vivid secondary character of them all. His grief when she dies is long and painful. We also learn quite a lot about his writing processes, mostly from his own perspective. Rather wisely, Warner relies extensively on quotation. Why paraphrase what already exists? The biography becomes almost a patchwork of other people – White’s letters and diary, the letters of others, the memoirs of others. It’s hard to say, at times, whether Warner is a biographer or a collagist.

Chief among these is White’s friend and encourager David Garnett, author of Lady Into Fox and much else. It’s hard to know whether he would be considered quite so significant a figure in White’s life if he had not also been such a good friend of Warner’s, and thus able to provide her with a great deal of written material. But if the share of perspectives is a little skewed, it is none the less interesting for that.

We chart White’s shifting interests and anxieties. There is a curious attachment towards the end with a boy called Zed, about which Warner is coy and oblique. It certainly raises disconcerting questions about the suitability of their relationship, and any more recent biographer would investigate the issue more thoroughly. Warner introduces it mysteriously and leaves it mysterious.

What we see, collectively, is that White was sporadically successful and seldom content. The sentence that sums up the whole comes near the end: ‘He had been unlucky with his happinesses’.

Warner writes biography in some ways like her fiction and in some ways not. It shares the tone of her fiction in the belief that everything is marvellous, in the true sense of that word, but that nothing is especially so. But it has fewer of those sentences that crystallise everything in a suspended moment. Fewer of those sentences that jolt you slightly by their unexpected rightness. But I did write down one such, about Brownie:

There are photographs of her in his Shooting Diary for 1934 -slender, leggy, newly full-grown, with the grieving Vandyke portrait expression of her kind.

I had expected something a little more distinctive stylistically from this deeply distinctive writer. But perhaps she decided not to make herself the star of the book. Yet she cannot help sometimes writing as an exasperated friend – ‘Of course, he should have gone to see her. Rush on by new projects, he didn’t.’ – and sometimes as a fellow author giving her opinion on a work in progress.

There is enough in here to delight the reader who comes because they love Warner. There could be more, and I would have welcomed it, but then it might have cloaked the emerging of the curious, sad, impassioned, conflicted, enthusiastic, inventive, restricted T.H. White.