Something Childish and other stories by Katherine Mansfield

This review is part of The 1924 Club. To discover more, and see all the reviews so far from across the blogosphere, visit my hub post or Karen’s hub page.

Something Childish

When I found out that Vulpes Libris were doing a Short Story Theme Week again, I thought Something Childish by Katherine Mansfield would be the perfect book to kill two birds with one stone – 1924 AND short stories? Yes please. Head over to Vulpes Libris to read my thoughts about it.

 

Conversations in Ebury Street by George Moore

This review is part of The 1924 Club. To discover more, and see all the reviews so far from across the blogosphere, visit my hub post or Karen’s hub page.

Conversations in Ebury StreetThis 1924 Club choice wasn’t quite what I was expecting to kick off with. In my reading (both recreational and academic) I’ve often thought of the 1920s primarily as the time when lots of new things were beginning and developing in the literary world, but (of course) for some writers it was also the end of an era.

One of those writers was George Moore – known now I believe chiefly, perhaps solely, for Esther Waters, which I have not read. In 1924 he was in his 70s (he would live to 1933) and had dozens of books under his belt. As such, he can be forgiven quite a self-indulgent idea: Conversations in Ebury Street is essentially a collection of musings, literary and otherwise, some of which are dramatised as conversations with real people – including notables like Walter de la Mare and Edmund Gosse.

This book entered my mental tbr piles in 2004, and my actual tbr piles in 2011, so I was rather delighted finally to have it rise to the top of my reading list (and I hadn’t even realised it was published in 1924). I first became aware of the book in my first term at Magdalen, writing about Anne Bronte, where I discovered that he shared my high opinion of Agnes Grey:

If Anne had written nothing but The Tenant of Wildfell Hall I should not have been able to predict the high place she would have taken in English letters. All I should have been able to say is: An inspiration that comes and goes like a dream. But, her first story, Agnes Grey, is the most perfect prose narrative in English literature. […] Agnes Grey is a prose narrative simple and beautiful as a muslin dress.

I actually recently re-read Agnes Grey and didn’t love it quite as much as I had in 2004 – more on that anon, if I remember enough about the re-read to write the post – but I still think it is an exquisite little book. That warm approval (‘the most perfect prose narrative in English literature’) made me want to make Moore’s acquaintance.

Well, I might have valued his view of Agnes Grey even higher if I’d known how difficult his approval was to secure. As far as I can tell, Moore does not like anything or agree with anyone. This can be quite fun to read about when he is tearing apart excerpts from Thomas Hardy or Tennyson; indeed, his literary and artistic analyses (though a bit self-congratulatory) make for good reading, even if the dialogues suggest that all Moore’s conversational opponents eventually recognise that he is right and they are wrong.

But what purpose, asked Mr. De La Mare, will be served by this critical examination of Mr. Hardy’s English? We are three men of letters, I answered, and it is our business to inquire why the public should have selected for their special adoration ill-constructed melodramas, feebly written in bad grammar, and why this mistake should have happened in the country of Shakespeare.

This is all good fun; you know I love books and books, and books about writers are just as enjoyable, if one is familiar with the writers. (I confess to skimming the section on Balzac, and those bits which quoted liberally in French.) Moore has an entertaining and discursive tone, wandering from idea to idea, a bit too pleased with himself and his theories – but that is forgiveable for a successful man in his 70s.

What is not so entertaining (and it would be remiss of me not to mention this) is his opinions on almost everything else. This makes up relatively little of the book, which is indeed focused on literary conversations, but sadly quite a lot of that comes at the beginning. His views are pretty repellent. He is openly racist, he doesn’t believe the working class should be taught to read (‘to bring about a renaissance of illiteracy, upon my word I would welcome a reawakening of theology’), and is generally against education:

every workman is aware that a boy released from school when he is fourteen is set upon learning a trade, but if he be kept at school till he is sixteen he very likely becomes part of the vagrant class.

Oh lordy me. It’s easy to be amused at stick-waving senilities like ‘an irreparable loss to our language is the second person singular’, and even when he suggests that learning French is a waste of time (despite then going on to say that Balzac is the greatest writer of prose fiction, ‘on this point there can be no difference of opinion’). But some of his opinions must have been widely reprehensible even in 1924.

I want to lace my recommendation of this book with a dozen caveats about things I don’t agree with, but I think they’d be obvious to anybody picking it up. So I’ll focus instead on what I did enjoy: it’s the sort of literary discussion that wouldn’t get published now, weaving from author to author, quoting line after line in analysis (particularly in creating a collection of ‘Pure Poetry’, being those written entirely without subjectivity, which was also published in 1924), and offering depth and knowledge in support. And, around this, hangs the history of Moore’s life and his ancestors’ lives, and the surroundings of Ebury Street. It’s a delightful setting in which to settle down, as though nestling in a deep armchair. It’s just a pity that it comes accompanied with so many unpleasant opinions outside the realm of literature.

So, I don’t think my first 1924 Club title is particularly representative of my feelings about the period, but it has been instructive to me to see the year not just as part of a wave of beginnings, but – as shouldn’t really have come as a surprise – also one which saw the end of some dynasties and forms, for better or worse.

 

The 1924 Club is here!

1924 Club

I hope you’re excited to kick off The 1924 Club fortnight! (For those who’ve missed it: we’re asking everyone to read books publishing in 1924, to get an overview of the year across the blogosphere.) This post is where I’ll be gathering reviews – so do pop your links in the comments whenever they’re ready. (Karen will doubtless have another round-up post, of course – I’m writing this late at night on Sunday, so not sure!) (She has! It’s here.)

Don’t forget, we’re also gathering up reviews that you’ve already got. To encourage the spirit of the thing, I’m putting reviews for this fortnight up top, and older reviews below. My first review should come tomorrow…

This fortnight so far…

Sherwood Anderson – A Story Teller’s Story
Intermittencies of the Mind

Michael Arlen – The Green Hat
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

Sir Henry Howarth Bashford – Augustus Carp Esq by himself
Anonymous (see full review in the comments below)

Nancy Boyd – Distressing Dialogues
Monica’s Bookish Life

John Buchan – The Three Hostages
I Prefer Reading
Desperate Reader

John Buchan – John Macnab
Pining for the West

Agatha Christie – Poirot Investigates
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings
Harriet Devine

Colette – The Other Woman
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

Arthur Conan Doyle – 3 stories from The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes
Books Please

Freeman Wills Crofts – Inspector French’s Greatest Case
Bag Full of Books

O. Douglas – Pink Sugar
Peggy Ann’s Post

Lord Dunsany – The King of Elfland’s Daughter
A Gallimaufry
Annabel’s House of Books

E.M. Forster – A Passage to India
Other Formats Are Available

R. Austin Freeman – ‘The Art of the Detective Story’
Past Offences

George Herriman – ‘Krazy Kat: Shed a Soft Mongolian Tear’
Intermittencies of the Mind

Winifred Holtby – The Crowded Street
Other Formats are Available
Book Musings (on Instagram)

Franz Kafka – The Hunger Artist
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

Margaret Kennedy – The Constant Nymph
Other Formats Are Available

Dezső Kosztolányi – Skylark
Rough Ghosts

H.P. Lovecraft – ‘The Rats in the Walls’
Intermittencies of the Mind

Denis Mackail
The Majestic Mystery

Katherine Mansfield – Something Childish and other stories
Simon at Vulpes Libris

F.M. Mayor – The Rector’s Daughter
Heavenali

A.A. Milne – When We Were Very Young
I Prefer Reading

George Moore – Conversations in Ebury Street
Stuck in a Book

Baroness Orczy – Pimpernel and Rosemary
I Prefer Reading

T.F. Powys – Mark Only
Stuck in a Book

C.C. Rogers – Cornish Silhouettes
Beyond Eden Rock

Vita Sackville-West – Seducers in Ecuador
Heavenali
Adventures in Reading, Writing, and Working From Home

Arnold Schnitzler – Fraulein Else
1streading

Edgar Wallace – The Face in the Night
A Hot Cup of Pleasure

Edith Wharton – New Years Day
Books as Food

Virginia Woolf – 1924 diary entry
Stuck in a Book

P.C. Wren – Beau Geste
She Reads Novels

Eugene Zamyatin – We
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings
Shoshi’s Book Blog

3 Soviet Short Stories
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

 

Older reviews

Michael Arlen – The Green Hat
Stuck in a Book
Clothes in Books

Ruby M Ayres – Ribbons and Laces
Clothes in Books

Karel Čapek – Letters from England
Stuck in a Book
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

Agatha Christie – The Man in the Brown Suit
BooksPlease
Clothes in Books

O. Douglas – Pink Sugar
Stuck in a Book
I Prefer Reading

F. Scott Fitzgerald – The Cruise of the Rolling Junk
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

Ford Madox Ford – Parade’s End vol.1 Some Do Not
Clothes in Books

E.M. Forster – A Passage to India
Heavenali

Ronald Fraser – The Flying Draper
Stuck in a Book

John Galsworthy – The White Monkey
Heavenali
Adventures in Reading, Writing, and Working from Home

David Garnett – A Man in the Zoo
Annabel’s House of Books
Stuck in a Book

Winifred Holtby – The Crowded Street
Heavenali
Adventures in Reading, Writing, and Working from Home

Margaret Kennedy – The Constant Nymph
Heavenali
She Reads Novels
Clothes in Books

Dezső Kosztolányi – Skylark
Stuck in a Book
The Captive Reader

F.M. Mayor – The Rector’s Daughter
Harriet Devine
Adventures in Reading, Writing, and Working from Home

Joseph Roth – Hotel Savoy
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

G.B. Stern – The Matriarch
Clothes in Books

P.C. Wren – Beau Geste
Clothes in Books

Eugene Zamyatin – We
Annabel’s House of Books

Stuck-in-a-Book’s Weekend Miscellany

I’ll be spending my weekend reading 1924 books in preparation for the 1924 Club kicking off on Monday – I unwisely decided to start quite a few books at once, but I’m hoping to finish at least one of them by Monday. Of course, the club readalong will be going on over a fortnight, so plenty of time!

1.Alice Dali) The blog post – speaking of readalongs, Ali has come up with a really brilliant Woolf readalong plan for 2016. It’s a very thoughtful look at Woolf’s life and career, with plenty of opportunities for the Woolf devotee or the Woolf newbie. I’m looking forward to lots of Woolf re-reading, and maybe even finally getting around to reading her letters and diaries.

2.) The linkKoko the gorilla had a birthday and picked some kittens to be her pets. Then she signed ‘put it on my head’. Koko is the gorilla we all deserve.

3.) The book – I’ve had my eye on this for a while, in my Amazon wishlist, but just spotted it in a shop the other day. I resisted (partly because my birthday isn’t too far away!) but this Princeton University Press reprinted edition of Alice with illustrations by Salvador Dali looks like a must for my small but beautiful Alice collection (featuring thus far Tenniel and Tove Jansson).

Another book haul (yes, I’m incorrigible)

Guess who’s bought some more books? Yes, you win, it’s me. These didn’t all come in the same shopping trip, though, if that helps you at all – not that many of you will frown upon the buying of books, I suspect. Here they are, and here’s why I got ’em!

Oct 2015 haul

Mr Darling Villain by Lynne Reid Banks

I hadn’t heard of this book by my much-loved author of The L-Shaped Room, but I suspect it is one of her teen books. The exciting thing for me is that it’s signed by her! To Tanya something, but… well, I can always change my name.

The Weald of Youth by Siegfried Sassoon

What fun this book looks – and ever since loving A Curious Friendship, I’ve wanted to read more by or about Sassoon.

First and Last by Victor L. Whitechurch
The Locum Tenens by Victor L. Whitechurch

I thought The Canon in Residence was fantastic, and curiously enough had been thinking about Whitechurch just before I came across these in a lovely little secondhand bookshop in Stratford-upon-Avon (Chaucer’s Head). Remind me to read these, please.

Mark Only by T.F. Powys

This came from the Oxfam bookshop that my friend Hannah runs (she being the reason I was visiting Stratford). They had lots of Powys novels, but I left the others behind. It was only later that I discovered that it is a perfect candidate for The 1924 Club!

A Writer’s Notebook by W. Somerset Maugham

I seem to have almost bought this dozens of times, and this time I was tipped over the edge.

The Life and Death of Rochester Sneath by Humphry Berkeley

The ‘e’s in the author’s name seem to be all out of place, but this caricature spoof looks like it should be fun. I’m using the words ‘caricature spoof’ because I don’t quite know how else to describe this. Maybe I will when I read it.

Various Voices by Harold Pinter

It’s been a while since I read any Pinter – about 10 years, probably – so it’ll be interesting to discover in an undergraduate fervour is required to appreciate him.

Caroline by Richmal Crompton
Portrait of a Family by Richmal Crompton

Thank you Bello for these reprints! I have the rest of the Cromptons they’re reprinting (this time around) already, though quite a few are unread, but these two have alluded me for years – I’m delighted to have them.

 

The Middle Window by Elizabeth Goudge

The Middle WindowIf you had told me at the beginning of 2015 that I’d have read two reincarnation romances before the year was over, my response would probably have been along the lines of doubt that two such books existed. But, yes, they do. The first one I read was Ferney by James Long – but over fifty years earlier, Elizabeth Goudge had written The Middle Window (1935) which had a similar idea at its heart.

This is actually the first Goudge book I’ve read, which is probably a rather unusual place to start. It came as part of a postal book group, otherwise this cover wouldn’t have inspired me to pick it up (nor yet would the tagline ‘a lively story set in the majestic Scottish Highlands’), though I ended up really enjoying it – particularly the first half.

The Middle Window is very definitely divided into halves. The first – set in the 1930s – concerns Judy, a London-dweller, whose life is changed when she looks into the three windows of an art gallery. Each displays a painting: one is a cityscape; one is a country cottage. In the middle window is a painting of the wilds of the Scottish highlands. For some reason, Judy believes that her life must follow the path indicated by one of those paintings. This isn’t the last time that the title of the novel will be significant, but Judy (as you may have guessed) opts for the middle window and the Scottish highlands.

Being in the happy position to be able to afford to take a ten week holiday, she advertises to rent a house there, and goes with her parents and her fiancée Charles to Glen Suilag. It’s a beautiful but neglected mansion in the middle of nowhere. There is no running water (which horrifies Judy’s mother, Lady Cameron) and little by way of local amusements. The only company seems to be a grumpy old servant, Angus – who greets Judy by saying “Mistress Judith, ye’ve coom back”.

I loved this section of the novel. The descriptions of being released from the city into the countryside rang true with me, and in fact the scene with the painting inspiring Judy’s decision – coming alive, so she can feel the breeze and see the mountains – is strikingly similar to scenes in Sylvia Townsend Warner’s Lolly Willowes and Elizabeth von Arnim’s Father. But how would I cope when the reincarnation bit kicks in? Well, the hint is there in Angus’ welcome, and grows apace as Judy feels like she already knows the area. She also feels like she already knows Ian, the Laird of the Manor, who is staying in the village. He is a passionate, amusing, and educated man; a contrast to her nice-but-dim Charles. Ian works as an unpaid doctor in the little village, treating things which aren’t serious enough for the local hospital which, in those days before the NHS, was beyond the means of the poor locals. (Curiously, these minor ailments include a boy who has cut two fingers off; I’m wondering if that denotes an injury less appalling than it sounds.) Oh, and they take a trip to Skye that reinforces how much I really must visit it one day.

Judy and Ian gradually fall in love, and also gradually realise that it is not the first time they’ve met – but the first time was in another life…

“A man living a life is like a man writing a book. He may break off after a few chapters but he comes back to his work again and again until the book is finished.”

“And will you and I come back again and again through the centuries until we have built paradise in our glen? Faith, but Glen Suilag will grow mightily tired of us.”

“No! We are as much a part of it as the bog myrtle and the heather. It does not tire of its children.”

That conversation actually takes place in the second half of the novel, which takes place in 1745. Here they are Judith and Ramand, who fall in love and marry only a day before Ramand is called away to fight in the Jacobite rising for Bonnie Prince Charlie. This is period of history I know very little about, so The Middle Window was surprisingly instructive, helping put in context lots of terms I’d heard but without knowledge.

I had to fight my natural aversion to historical fiction, but that actually didn’t end up being my problem with the second half. It’s just as well drawn, character-wise, as the first half (for they are essentially the same characters), but the end of the first half essentially tells us what will happen at the end of the second half. I shan’t spoil it now, but the link is a flashback Judy has – which gives away the end. Of course, plot is not the only thing to read for, but it removes some of the tension – though there is a bit of a twist which goes some way to atone for it.

Despite, on paper, being a book that shouldn’t interest me, I actually really liked The Middle Window. And what I mostly liked about it was the style and humour of the writing. The humour is more evident in the first half, and it’s great; it’s centred around how insufferable the rest of the family find Judy. She’s rather a great heroine to read it, but must be endlessly frustrating to live with – as this indicates:

Lady Cameron sighed. Judy’s recent saintly mood of meditation and withdrawal had been distinctly trying, leading her as it did to leave her galoshes about in awkward places and take not the slightest notice of anything said to her, but it had at least been harmless. The same thing, she felt, could not be said of this new phase. She knew quite well, from painful past experience, that when Judy drew her belt in tightly like that she was about to be tiresome.

Little turns of phrase throughout demonstrate Goudge’s skill as a writer, even as early as her second book. Some might be too put off the theme, but – having spent years immersed in 1920s and ’30s fantastic fiction – I was willing to suspend my disbelief and enjoy it. My only wish is that she’d spent the whole time in the 1930s, with perhaps flashbacks to 1745, rather than giving equal space to both halves when there couldn’t really be equal tension or reader engagement.

 

Others who got Stuck into it (and generally hated it!):

“Gar. What a tiresome story this was. I feel all bilious; I think I need to read something crisp and witty to cleanse my emotional palate.” – Barb, Leaves and Pages

“This, unfortunately, is the first book by Elizabeth Goudge I have ever wished I hadn’t read. I disliked Judy Cameron heartily.” – Jenny, Shelf Love

 

 

Stuck-in-a-Book’s Weekend Miscellany

Here is a whole bunch of things to delight you this weekend. Truth be told, I noted most of these down last weekend – but hopefully they’re still relevant!

1.) I’ve only read one Josephine Tey novel (which I don’t think I’ve reviewed yet, have I?) but others of you with more Tey knowledge might well be excited by this article in Vanity Fair (and a forthcoming biography!)

2.) The Booker shortlist came out a while ago. And Lila wasn’t on it. Which is rather embarrassing for them. C’mon, Booker judges, history is gonna think you were rather silly about this one.

3.) Cartoons that imagine what would happen if your CEO were a cat.

4.) If you have access to Channel 4 online, then Penelope Keith’s Hidden Villages is a must-see. The series has finished now but plenty of episodes are available online. It sounds like a spoof, but it’s not: Penelope Keith wanders from village to village, marvelling over their histories and meeting old folk who remember the good old days. Plus everywhere is beautiful.

5.) Do check out a fascinating essay Victoria/Litlove has written in Numero Cinq on four types of liars.

Oh, and I’m very excited at the response to The 1924 Club! I’m hoping for lots of unexpected books to be unearthed – so do keep hunting on your bookshelves.

 

Shiny New Books: Issue 7

Hurrah! Issue 7 of Shiny New Books is now live!

SNB-logo

(As usual, enormous thanks to Annabel, Harriet, and Victoria for their hard work and enthusiasm – and a sad farewell to our publicity impresario Jodie, for whom Issue 7 is a last hurrah.)

Lots of joys to highlight, which I’ll be telling you about soon – for now, don’t miss our Poetry Competition, the fun Eds Discussion about the morality of writers, and (hurrah!) Lila being chosen our Shiny Book Club choice.

But I reckon you should just go and explore. Have fun!

 

The Great British Bake Off: Series 6: Episode 9

Hi everyone – thanks for not nagging me last week, when I quietly cashed in my ‘one week off from recapping’ that I think I’ve used every year. You’ll never get to hear my thoughts about… whatever that episode was about. I’ve already forgotten. But, hey, here’s chocolate week!

gb24

It’s semi-final week; Mel and Sue optimistically refer to them all as ‘boys’ and ‘girls’ – one of them might just about scrape into that category – and, one quick recap of last week’s episode (I’m still not sure what it was about) over, we pan to Mel doing her best (or, we might charitably hope, he worst) impression of Forrest Gump. Which, fyi, is a terrible film, in my opinion.

Apparently this estate doesn't run to a bench.
Apparently this estate doesn’t run to a bench.

Time for some Lacklustre Steps. What should we read into the order of the contestants? Nadiya’s folded arms? Tamal wearing a T-shirt while At Home We Have An Aga is in a massive coat?

In all likelihood, nothing.
In all likelihood, nothing.

It’s semi-final week, so it’s time to recap the whole series in soundbites from previous episodes. Taken altogether, we learn that sometimes the contestants are good, and sometimes they aren’t so great. There is – you will be surprised to learn – no clear frontrunner. Everybody doubts their own abilities, except Ian who thinks he’s in with a good chance – and, yet again, we don’t get a hint of their homelives. How are we to know whether their partners/children/colleagues think they’ll win or not?

Blazer Watch is a riot of blue:

"Hold on guys - I thought I was wearing blue."
“Hold on guys – I thought I was wearing blue this week.”

Mel: “This week it’s the thing I love most in the world.”
Sue: “Guinea pigs?”
Mel: “No, chocolate.”

Though doubtless scripted and rehearsed, Sue is obviously amused at her badinage, and can’t keep the laughter out of her voice while she announces the signature challenge – which is chocolate tarts.

I do like this as a challenge, because it’s another one that people might well want to make at home, as well as offering the bakers plenty of scope for variation and originality. Yumster.

Nadiya requests that they don’t mention that it’s the semi-final – which goes against what the producers have planned for the episode, which is – as always at this stage – to mention it every five minutes. And by ‘mention’, I mean ‘define’. If you weren’t aware that the semi-final was the week before the final going into this episode, you will be by the end.

Paul spices up this bon mot by saying that a mistake ‘could be fatal, going into the final’.

Well, yes, but only if that mistake is inadvertently adding strychnine.
Well, yes, but only if that mistake is inadvertently adding strychnine.

There is a problem, with making chocolate tarts: there’s not much to explain to the viewer for a while. The bakers try to make adding cocoa powder to a shortcrust pastry mixture seem daunting and dramatic, but… it’s not, really, is it?

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the kitchen.
Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the kitchen.

The trick to making good chocolate pastry is, apparently, making it the right consistency – so Sue confides in the voiceover. So… like regular pastry, right?

Watching this with friends, I asserted that somebody – most likely Ian – would be adding an unsuitable savoury ingredient to their chocolate tart. So I was pleasantly surprised to kick off with this delight from Tamal. Chocolate, raspberries, and pecans are among my favourite ingredients, so this looks wonderful. They keep going on about how simple it is, of course.

What it's got to do with New York, I can't imagine.
What it’s got to do with New York, I can’t imagine.

Demonstrating the technical know-how which explains why she’s paid the big bucks, Mary points out that chocolate is already dark, so it’s tricky to see when it’s baked. She’s also obviously as smitten with Tamal as every single viewer is:

So dreamy...
So dreamy…

The editing team for GBBO know what the viewers want, and have taken to including Nadiya Expressions in between other shots, entirely irrelevant to what is going on or being said. I ain’t complaining; they’re always priceless.

08

At Home We Have An Aga is, of course, festooning her tart in everything she can think of, and seems quite apologetic about this when explaining her plan to Paul and Mary. Of course, since she doubtless submitted her plans for each round months ago, she can’t actually do much about it now… More importantly, she does seem to have some sort of macaron Tourette’s. She just can’t help baking them; it’s involuntary. At least she’s only using sweet ingredients.

Do they have... antlers?
Do they have… antlers?

They’re all using flour or icing sugar or something to stop their chocolate pastry sticking when they roll it. I’m always too worried it’ll mark the pastry and have white splotches on it, when I make chocolate pastry, and just trust to turning it as much as possible. Just so you know.

Over to Ian’s desk. What are you making, Ian? A nice caramel and chocolate tart, mayhap? Perhaps putting in some traditional, sweet ingredients? I’m sorry, I must have misheard you. Because you can’t possibly have said “bay-infused caramel”. I’ll pop off to the GP to get my hearing replaced.

WHEN WILL THIS MADNESS END
WHEN WILL THIS MADNESS END

Nobody has ever eaten a chocolate and caramel tart and lamented the lack of a herbaceous border. I’m so angry right now.

Let’s move right on to Nadiya. She’s using a heck of a lot of peanuts, which I guess is fine, only I hate them. And peanuts so often pop up and ruin otherwise delicious-sounding chocolate brownies and the like.

Nadiya also waffles on about adding some starch thing to fats to turn them into powders, and nobody has a clue what she’s talking about. Mary laughs loudly to cover up the awkwardness.

And a moment later she WINKED! #MaryForPrimeMinister
And a moment later she WINKED! #MaryForPrimeMinister

At Home We Have An Aga is worried that her filling (passion fruit custard… mmmm) might turn into… (you guessed it)… scrambled eggs! Always, always, scrambled eggs. Meanwhile, Nadiya doesn’t want to add too much salt to her caramel, because she doesn’t want it to be savoury. Listen to this lady, Ian.

She also worries, a bit later, that she might have ‘overset it’. I don’t know what that could mean? How can something be too set? As she rescues her tart from one of the freezers (which, you note, no longer say ‘Smeg’ on them after the BBC got embroiled in some freezer bias scandal a year or two ago), somebody from the props department has stumbled upon a Chinese gong, and gives that an experimental clash.

Early feedback: I don't hate it.
Early feedback: I don’t hate it.

Despite my bay-themed rage earlier, I have to admire the gloss Ian has got on his tart. This is quite spectacular. There are mirrors in my house that are less reflective than this.

DeliNARCISSUS.
DeliNARCISSUS.

Bakers are piping and spreading and spraying (?) and making white-chocolate bay leaves (??); At Home We Have An Aga has accidentally made some macarons.

14
Oops.

And… we’re done! They certainly all look delicious, even if there is an unpleasant peanut butter surprise in one of them. Could someone be a doll and steal Tamal’s for me?

I'll wait.
I’ll wait.

Mary loves the combination of textures; Paul can’t decide whether or not he likes it (it looks a bit as though he’s waiting for a producer to tell him in his ear), and eventually thinks he probs does.

Over to Ian’s Bay – they can’t taste the bay. Which can only be a blessing. But it otherwise goes well, give or take. It cuts well, according to Paul, whatever that means.

Mary likes Nadiya’s despite not being a peanut fan. Maybe there’s hope for me yet with peanut-flavoured desserts? Mr Hollywood likes it so much that he dishes out one of his handshakes.

Check out how much Mel is eating!
Check out how much Mel is eating!

Nadiya, of course, plays her cards close to her chest, keeps her poker face, and doesn’t give away the faintest indication of her feelings.

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But what about At Home We Have An Aga and her medically-induced macarons? Well, Paul thinks the tart looks attractive, despite there being no obvious tart beneath the forestry. Appearance-wise, they’re pretty delighted, and the taste is ok – but her dessert has split. Oh dear… Paul doesn’t like her macarons. “If you’re going to do a macaron, do it properly,” he says – at which Mel gasps, and is only a millimetre away from saying “Oh NO he didn’t.”

In the post-judgement interviews (where, as usual, the bakers have been dispersed throughout the grounds – and Tamal seems to have fought his way into the Secret Garden), Tamal does what he seems to believe is an impersonation of Paul. Now, I yield to few in my inability to do accents, but Tamal is now one of those few.

He seems to think Paul grew up in... Birmingyorkshire?
He seems to think Paul grew up in… Birmingyorkshire?

Onto the Technical Challenge! And it’s a Bake Off first – staggered starts. Nadiya, Tamal, and Ian abandon poor At Home We Have An Aga in the tent. She shrieks “don’t go!” and Ian makes entirely inexplicable gestures to her, which hopefully this photo goes some way to capturing:

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Sue suggests that it’s “all gone a little bit Lord of the Flies“, which suggests I need to give it a re-read.

And… chocolate soufflés! The instructions seem to be “make a soufflé” – which, despite her ten thousand French recipe books, At Home We Have An Aga has apparently never made. I, with my zero French recipe books, have made one once, with someone else, but it was a cheese soufflé, which I can only imagine is rather different. I certainly don’t remember making a meringue to go in it, but I also don’t remember anything else about my life, so I might well have done.

When Baker no.2 comes in, At Home We Have An Aga says “I’ve never been so happy to see you, Ian.” I’m sure she didn’t mean it to sound super insulting. Ian’s reaction to being told the challenge is, frankly, minimal – but the cameraman makes the most of potential drama with a sudden zoom. One that I can only adequately convey in a… GIF!

The Great British Bake Off S06E09 Chocolate 360p

The same inspired cameraman has obviously spent some time lining At Home We Have An Aga’s head with the sun-window.

With just a hint of being-filmed-behind-a-mug.
With just a hint of being-filmed-behind-a-mug.

Everybody essentially panics. None of them have made a chocolate soufflé before, and apparently they’ve also all forgotten how to make anything at all. Ian worries about making a creme pat. At Home We Have An Aga isn’t sure about her meringue. Nadiya stares in confusion at an egg, wondering how you get the inside bit out.

Most confusing, though, are the paperclips. Nadiya and Mel have a little de-brief about them, leaving neither any the wiser.

"MAGIC beans, you say?"
“MAGIC beans, you say?”

Mel is also rather taken aback by Nadiya’s sass, when she says she’ll use the paperclips to file souffles under ‘never bake again’. It’s rather a fab little moment.

Despite the time staggering, we see all the bakers put their soufflés in the ovens in one single montage. Come hell or high water, the editors won’t let go of the putting-in-ovens montage. Nor, of course, the staring-in-ovens montage. Those will both be there with the cockroaches when the apocalypse is over.

"...yep, still there."
“…yep, still there.”

The bakers now have 45 minutes to do nothing but clutch their faces in increasingly uncomfortable-looking positions. At Home We Have An Aga (one assumes) makes macarons.

Because the soufflés need to be served immediately, Paul and Mary have set up a little table for two facing away from the bakers’ stations.

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For some reason, presumably either thrown by the change in the challenge, or with a voicebox addled by drinking cooking sherry straight from the bottle, Mary decides to whisper all her critiques.

Considering all their anxieties, the bakers all do pretty well. They aren’t keen on Nadiya’s lumps of unmixed meringue, but otherwise it’s more or less thumbs up all round. At Home We Have An Aga wins the challenge, followed by Tamal and Ian, with Nadiya bringing up the rear. For some reason, they felt they needed to restore the status quo with the gingham altar before they could tell anybody the results.

Mary ain't a fan of change.
Mary ain’t a fan of change.

Three of the bakers talk about how glad they are that they didn’t come last, including this adorable pat-self-on-back from Tamal:

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But Nadiya did come last, of course, and has a little cry in front of the camera, which was too sad for me to screencap. (*Whispers* don’t worry, Nadi, it’s gonna be ok.) Let’s whip straight to the Backstage Area of Pointless Debriefing. At its most pointless, this week, as Mel poses the Pulitzer-level insightful questioning of “Would you say, Paul, that it’s quite difficult to call who the three finalists are going to be, this year?”

"...yes."
“…yes.”

In her defence, it’s certainly trickier to call who the finalists will be this year than previous years. Cos I can find those on Wikipedia.

Back into the slightly less pointless part of the tent, they’re making chocolate centrepieces. They have to be three dimensional – so no drawings of centrepieces will be accepted! And presumably any that break into the fourth dimension will also be disqualified.

The bakers, we learn, are feeling nervous. Paul pops up to tell us that this is “the last chance to get into the final next week” – he’s clearly been reading and re-reading the definition of semi-final until he’s blue in the face.

Incidentally, has there ever been a baked centrepiece outside of the Great British Bake Off? I’m pretty sure that I’ve never been at a meal with one. And are you allowed to eat them? At which point in a meal? So many questions, so few answers.

Tamal is making a bell tower – it doesn’t seem to be specific one, which is probably just as well, since I don’t think there are any real bell towers that masquerade as octopodes. (Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I know my plural of octopus).

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Mary goes all schoolteacher and asks him if he can pinpoint the difficult bit she’s thinking of; he entirely disregards the question.

At Home We Have An Aga is making ‘the cocoa carousel’, which I’m pretty sure she’s chosen just because of how good that sounds in a Scottish accent. I love anything carousel-themed (except, oddly, going on carousels) so this is winning points in my book. And she even made her own horse-shaped cutter. Mel quizzes her on how she made it but, before she can tell us, Paul mocks it. He claims it looks like a dog; I’m pretty impressed by it, myself.

This is not a positive teaching style, Paul.
This is not a positive teaching style, Paul.

Now, guys, I love Nadiya – you know I do – but I’m pretty cross with what she makes this week. Yes, it is replete with ‘modelling chocolate’ – a concept I am convinced that she made up – but her chocolate peacock doesn’t seem to involve any actual baking. There are a couple of half-hearted biscuits flung down near it, but for the most part it seems to be a rice krispie cake, of the variety made predominantly by nine year olds.

That's right, Nadiya, conceal your shame.
That’s right, Nadiya, conceal your shame.

Yes, it’s chocolate week – but it’s also The Great British BAKE Off.

Ian is making a fully-functioning well. I just don’t know what to say.

Well, well, well. It's a well.
Well, well, well. 

It dips down to a mixture of white chocolate and lemon, which doesn’t sound like a nice combination, does it?

Not a lady to steer clear of the garish, Nadiya recalls how fondly the judges looked on her electric blue ‘nun’, and is rolling out bright blue chocolate.

I'm pretty sure this isn't a thing.
Yep, I’m pretty sure this isn’t a thing.

SOMEHOW we are over 42 minutes into the episode before we get our annual investigation into tempering chocolate. Have you missed it? “GRAINY TEXTURE”. Mel’s voiceover seemed to be leading into a trip to a Bournville factory or Kidderminster-based chocolate-eating competition, or something, but – no – we stay in the tent.

“I’m just making the white chocolate truffles,” says At Home We Have An Aga, pouring what is evidently a spirit into her bowl. Oh, brandy apparently. “I always think booze and white chocolate go well together,” she says, despite having only legally have been able to drink for about a year.

Call children's services.
Call children’s services.

Here is a quick shot of the ONLY baking that Nadiya does in this challenge:

You're lucky you're great, Nadiya, because if this were anybody else I'd be KICKING OFF right now. Anybody else except Tamal, of course.
You’re lucky you’re great, Nadiya, because if this were anybody else I’d be KICKING OFF right now. Anybody else except Tamal, of course.

The Chinese gong gets dragged out again for Ian’s metal contraptions, btw and fyi.

There’s lots of tempering and piping and whatnot. And the first big drama of the challenge comes as At Home We Have An Aga is assembling her shortbread… oh nooooo! To her credit, she deals with it surprisingly calmly.

Probably the brandy.
Probably the brandy.

And, just like that, the ‘centrepieces’ are finished. We’ve only got time for three irrelevant establishing shots of the sky and some corn, and it’s judgement time. Here they are:

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Tamal’s bell tower looks best from far away, says Mary, but up close his piping ain’t all that. However, the biscuits and whatnot are doing their job well. Amusingly, when they say nice things and the camera pans to him, he’s giving himself that pat on the back. When they say less nice things, the pat is retracted.

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Yeah, I see you, Tamal.

Ian’s well centrepiece is described as ‘very contemporary’ by Paul – yes, he made it just then. But the handle snaps off when he tries to pull the bucket up. Mary pirate-eats the shortbread, and is a big fan of it, but would have liked to see more chocolate work.

I think At Home We Have An Aga’s looks stunning (though they think it has too much ‘bloom’, or something). Mezza and Pezza don’t like the taste of much of it, sadly, and the whole carousel crumbles to the table. “It doesn’t taste as good as it looks,” Mary sums up.

Nadiya is the fourth baker to turn down assistance from Sue, in carrying her bake to the table – why does she keep offering? Why don’t they accept it? – and the judges are rightly impressed by the beautiful design. At no point is it mentioned that she has barely baked anything at all.

Indeed, it’s enough to secure her Star Baker!

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And, demonstrating the complete lack of importance attached to the technical challenge, going home is poor (let me use her name for the first time since episode 1) Flora. I’ll miss you, my dear, but I shan’t miss typing out that ridiculously long nickname I gave you.

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Well, my two favourites (Tamal and Nadiya) have made it to the final, and I’m cheering on either of them. See you all for the final!

The 1924 Club – get prepared!

Once an idea strikes me, I can never resist starting up a blog-community-project, whether that be a readalong or My Life in Books or A Century of Books or whatever. This particular idea excites me, because it is endlessly reusable, and should create something really interesting: welcome to The 1924 Club, which I’m co-running with the very lovely Karen of Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings. I’m thrilled she agreed to run this with me, as you’d have to go a long way to find a blogger as well-read, engaging, enthusiastic, and generally fab as Karen.

1924 Club

What is the 1924 Club?

Glad you asked. The idea is to get everyone reading from a particular year – reading whatever you’d like to, so long as it was published in 1924. Then Karen and I can bring together all the reviews (and as many reviews of 1924 books that are already on people’s blogs as possible) and we’ll have a great overview of the year. It should be really fascinating, to get a wide and varied sense of what was going on in publishing throughout one year.

Why 1924?

It could have been many different years, really, but 1924 seemed to have a lot of significant works published, as well as generally being an interesting time. If the project is a success, we can repeat it in the future with other years.

How do I take part?

Just post your reviews of a book or books published in 1924 between 19-31 October; during that time we’ll also have gathering-up posts available where you can let us know links to your reviews, as well as any other 1924 book reviews you’ve ever written. Later we’ll do round-up posts with links. And do feel free to use the button/badge!

What should I read?

Ideally, what you want to read! Hopefully you’ve got a few books on your shelf that would suit – you might need to do a little bit of homework, but that should be fun too. I’ve got a few up my sleeve, but I’m planning to read The Crowded Street by Winifred Holtby, for instance, and maybe The Garden of Folly by Stephen Leacock.

This Wikipedia list and this Goodreads list are also helpful (a word of warning – double-check the Goodreads suggestions before committing to them! Some are a little off in their dates). And, if you’re stuck, here are some possibilities:

A Man in the Zoo by David Garnett
Skylark by Dezső Kosztolányi
The Green Hat by Michael Arlen
The Home-Maker by Dorothy Canfield Fisher
The Rector’s Daughter by F.M. Mayor
The Man in the Brown Suit by Agatha Christie
Pink Sugar by O. Douglas
The Matriarch by G.B. Stern
Something Childish by Katherine Mansfield
A Passage to India by E.M. Forster
The Constant Nymph by Margaret Kennedy
The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann
Messalina of the Suburbs by E.M. Delafield

Seducers in Ecuador by Vita Sackville-West
When We Were Very Young by A.A. Milne

But, more than anything, I’m hoping you’ll surprise us by hunting out unexpected 1924 gems!

Let us know if you’re planning on joining in, and do share any advance tips for 1924 wonders…