Yes, this is my 500th blog post. Streamers and balloons and candles and so forth.
It seems an appropriate time to put forward a little puzzler – can you think of book titles with numbers in them? Bonus points if that number is 500.
A few to kick us off:
The 39 Steps by John Buchan
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
Farenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
26. Literary Lapses – Stephen Leacock
The post title looks like I’ve broken my Lentern fast, doesn’t it? Well, I haven’t, I can assure you. Rather, it’s another book in my 50 Books You Must Read etc. etc. In fact, it’s one of the ones which came to my mind first when thinking about compiling this list two years ago, but somehow he hasn’t appeared until now. As the list is in no particular order, this is no indictment of Mr. Leacock…
I don’t know how well known Stephen Leacock is nowadays. It was my Aunt Jacq who first pointed me in his direction (though I had unwittingly already read something by him in my indispensable Modern Humour (1940) which was my introduction to EM Delafield) – I suspect, if anybody has heard of him, it will be any Canadian readers of Stuck-in-a-Book, for Canadian Leacock was. Any Canadians out there? According to Wikipedia, it was said in 1911 that more people had heard of Stephen Leacock than had heard of Canada.
Intrigued? Essentially, Stephen Leacock is a humorist par excellence. If I utter his name in the same breath as PG Wodehouse, it is not because their styles are all that similar 
(though both make fantastic use of stylistic exaggeration) but because Leacock is the only writer I would dare hold up to Wodehouse. Two comic genii. Most of Leacock’s works are little sketches or stories, though there is the odd longer narrative – his speciality is the slightly absurd, usually well-to-do, experiencing the odd and the mundane, finding humour and absurdity in both. Difficult, as always, to pinpoint why I love him so much – little tricks of style bound to make you laugh without realising quite why.
Jacq introduced me to Stephen Leacock back in 2002 or 2003, when I didn’t have such a backlist of books to be read – consequently I ‘did an Elaine’ (a reference to Elaine from RandomJottings!) and read lots and lots of his in one fell swoop. My choice of Literary Lapses (1910) is perhaps arbitrary, but it was the first one I read and remains my favourite. What’s more, there are lots available through Amazon. It’s even all online at this link, if you wish to read it that way. I’ll leave you with a taster, the little tale ‘Borrowing a Match’:
You might think that borrowing a match upon the street
is a simple thing. But any man who has ever tried it will
assure you that it is not, and will be prepared to swear
to the truth of my experience of the other evening.
I was standing on the corner of the street with a cigar
that I wanted to light. I had no match. I waited till a
decent, ordinary-looking man came along. Then I said:
“Excuse me, sir, but could you oblige me with the loan
of a match?”
“A match?” he said, “why certainly.” Then he unbuttoned
his overcoat and put his hand in the pocket of his
waistcoat. “I know I have one,” he went on, “and I’d
almost swear it’s in the bottom pocket–or, hold on,
though, I guess it may be in the top–just wait till I
put these parcels down on the sidewalk.”
“Oh, don’t trouble,” I said, “it’s really of no
consequence.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble, I’ll have it in a minute; I know
there must be one in here somewhere”–he was digging
his fingers into his pockets as he spoke–“but you see
this isn’t the waistcoat I generally…”
I saw that the man was getting excited about it. “Well,
never mind,” I protested; “if that isn’t the waistcoat
that you generally–why, it doesn’t matter.”
“Hold on, now, hold on!” the man said, “I’ve got one of
the cursed things in here somewhere. I guess it must be
in with my watch. No, it’s not there either. Wait till
I try my coat. If that confounded tailor only knew enough
to make a pocket so that a man could get at it!”
He was getting pretty well worked up now. He had thrown
down his walking-stick and was plunging at his pockets
with his teeth set. “It’s that cursed young boy of mine,”
he hissed; “this comes of his fooling in my pockets. By
Gad! perhaps I won’t warm him up when I get home. Say,
I’ll bet that it’s in my hip-pocket. You just hold up
the tail of my overcoat a second till I…”
“No, no,” I protested again, “please don’t take all this
trouble, it really doesn’t matter. I’m sure you needn’t
take off your overcoat, and oh, pray don’t throw away
your letters and things in the snow like that, and tear
out your pockets by the roots! Please, please don’t
trample over your overcoat and put your feet through the
parcels. I do hate to hear you swearing at your little
boy, with that peculiar whine in your voice. Don’t–please
don’t tear your clothes so savagely.”
Suddenly the man gave a grunt of exultation, and drew
his hand up from inside the lining of his coat.
“I’ve got it,” he cried. “Here you are!” Then he brought
it out under the light.
It was a toothpick.
Yielding to the impulse of the moment I pushed him under
the wheels of a trolley-car, and ran.
I had no idea what Google Reader did until this morning… and I discover that 116 people read my blog through it! How nice – do say hello if you’re reading Stuck-in-a-Book that way. Maybe some of the regular readers here are closet technophiles?
And I’m hoping (if I can get the ticket website to work) to attend Guy Fraser-Sampson’s talk about Major Benjy and presumably other things Mapp and Lucia, at the Oxford Literary Festival on April 1st at 12pm (more info here, if you scroll down) – anyone want to join me? I blogged about Major Benjy here, and conducted an interview with GFS here.
I’ve given up buying books for Lent, so I thought I’d do a round-up of the books I bought just before that. And then I’m going to focus on four that I’m really excited about, but might not be able to read for a few weeks. Doesn’t seem fair to have such interesting titles just milling around my bookshelves and, increasingly, floor, without telling you about them so you can rush out and get copies yourself. What powers of persuasion I believe myself to have… And, of course, I welcome your thoughts on any or all of the books I mention – especially if you’ve already read them and want to pass on your thoughts.
So, the ones which aren’t going to get a photo or description because otherwise we’d be here all day:
A View of the Harbour – Elizabeth Taylor (amassing hers, waiting for Nicola Beauman’s biography later this year)
The Tigress on the Hearth – Margery Sharp (another author I’ve only read one book by, but still buy lots of when I see ’em… any fans?)
Yesterday Morning – Diana Athill
Fugitive Pieces – Anne Michaels
The Welsh Girl – Peter Ho Davies (for book group… I’m not sure, having heard fairly negative reports in the blogosphere)
Before Leonard: The Early Suitors of Virginia Woolf – Sarah M. Hall (any excuse for something Virginian)
And now the Big Four…
Two People – AA Milne
When I first heard about Capuchin Classics about a year ago, and did an interview with Emma Howard, the title I was most excited about was this reprint of AA Milne’s novel. I read it in January 2003, and remember it being slightly more thoughtful, even sombre, than most of his output – but also very good. I’m interested to see if six years down the line I still admire this portrait of a marriage after the passion has declined. To quote the blurb, ‘Two People considers how two people can make a relationship work when those concerned have little in common but that intense fragment they shared when first they fell in love. Quietly and quintessentially English in every facet, Two People shines with a gentle himour and a subtle delicacy of style.’ Perhaps not typical Milne fare, but I encourage you to get a copy and read it along with me. If Ann Thwaite’s superlatively great biography of Milne is to be believed, the novel is more than a little autobiographical.
Hallucinating Foucault – Patricia Dunbar
Sometimes I enjoy picking up a novel I know nothing about, and putting it at the top of the tbr pile. This one won on title and brevity (I do like a short book, as we’ve discussed). The narrator is heading to France from Cambridge to rescue writer Paul Michel, the subject of his doctoral research, from a mental institution. I’m developing quite a taste for quirky literature (especially after reading Alva & Irva by Edward Carey) and this was irresistible.
Oh dear, this post is getting very long. Will hurry through the other two.
The Hound in the Left-Hand Corner – Giles Waterfield
Giles Waterfield wrote the wonderfully evocative The Long Afternoon, which is in my 50 Books…, and was later a novel I chose for my book group. Someone there recommended The Hound in the Left-Hand Corner as being equally good, but much funnier – set in the Museum of British History and around a painting by Gainsborough, this looks to have all the ingredients for a memorable and enjoyable read.
Virginia Woolf – Nigel Nicholson
How did I not know that Nigel Nicholson had written a book about Virginia Woolf? Sounds like a very winning combination, and maybe even something I can read over Easter under the title ‘research.’ At only 160 pages, it would be a shame not to.
Jennifer Dee asks where the cover depicts – it’s actually a painting by Dame Laura Knight called ‘Two Girls on a Cliff’… not an especially enlightening title. Dovegreyreader blogged about Forever England here and described Dame Laura Knight as a Newlyn artist, so I would assume the painting is of that part of Cornwall?
Though I always find some sort of interest in my studies, occasionally a lit crit book comes along which is such a pleasure to read that I almost feel guilty alloting work time to it. Step forward Alison Light, and Forever England: Femininity, Literature and Conservatism Between the Wars. If the name rings a bell, then perhaps you’ve read her more recent book, Mrs. Woolf and the Servants (which has made it from my must-read-very-soon shelf to my bedside table, about as far as a book can get before it’s actually in my hands).
Forever England was published in 1991 and is essentially the outcome of Light’s dissertation – not as wide-ranging as Nicola Humble’s The Feminine Middlebrow Novel 1920s-1950s (see my post here), Light’s book is instead specifically about four authors, each with a chapter devoted to them. And they are all authors who’ve cropped up on Stuck-in-a-Book in the past – Ivy Compton-Burnett; Agatha Christie; Jan Struther (well, Mrs. Miniver really); Daphne du Maurier. Light treats them as serious authors, not amusing side-notes in a literary history, and that is what is so refreshing about Forever England. Not that she claims more for them than is there, but rather she values the role of these writers for what they are. Christie was professedly lowbrow; ICB has a complex way of presenting dialogue; Jan Struther wasn’t a proto-feminist; D du M had an odd relationship with her family in her writing – all of this is true and acknowledged, but each writer is also re-evaluated and investigated with honest interest.
Not sure how available this book is; I have a feeling it might be quite tricky to track down, but perhaps libraries will have copies, or can get them. Unlike most literary criticsm, I would recommend this as a cover-to-cover read, utterly accessible without being insulting to the intellect. While the scope of Humble’s book makes that remain the first port of call for me, Light’s contribution to the specifics of these four writers is fascinating and genuinely enjoyable to read.
The Reader is a magazine which I’ve heard of a fair few times, and been quite intrigued by, but had always dismissed as one of those ever-so-clever, pretentious magazines publishing unreadable poetry alongside tedious in-jokes. When I was offered an issue to review, I realised how very wrong I was.
What strikes me first about The Reader (I have the Winter 2008 edition, no.32) is its astonishing variety. Yes, there is new poetry and fiction (including works by Poet Laureate Andrew Motion, and Marilynne Robinson) but also accessible essays (on Milton’s 400th birthday), reviews, recommendations by readers, articles about Reading Life, interviews and even a crossword. These range from something which wouldn’t be out of place in a scholarly essay to that which feels more like a bookish conversation with a friend – what seeps through every section of the magazine is a love of literature and a desire to share this passion.
Better than that, The Reader, as a company, also works in (I quote) ‘day centres, old people’s homes, community groups, hospitals, drug rehabs, refugee centres, public libraries, schools and children’s homes and many other places to bring the pleasure and value of reading to as many people as possible.’ And that’s got to be a good thing.
More about the issue itself. The first item I turned to was an interview with Phil Beadle – the teacher behind Can’t Read, Can’t Write, a TV documentary teaching adult literacy that was one of the most moving and valuable programmes I’ve ever seen. I blogged about it here. Strange choice for an interview, thought I, but it quickly clicked – Beadle’s beliefs in the releasing potential of literature is exactly the ethos of The Reader. And a very good interview it is too.
Next I went through the three ‘Reading Lives’ sections – quite a vague heading for reader contributions about the ways reading works in their lives. A while ago Kirsty at Other Stories wrote about blogging and books – you can even download that issue here – but the articles in no.32 were away from the computer. Caroline Clark writes about coming to love literature long after her childhood; Ian McMillan on the pleasures of contemplative reading. For me, the best piece in the entire magazine was Sarah Turvey and Jenny Hartley’s on Prison Reading Groups. Jenny Hartley wrote a great little book called Reading Groups (talked about here) an
d this item is a similar survey on a smaller scale. A moving piece, which demonstrates that the idea of literature as a redemptive activity might not be such an archaic idea.
I’ll be honest with you. As an impoverished student, I can’t afford a subscription to The Reader (though back issues are only £2 at the moment, from the website), but I do encourage others to get a copy or two and consider subscribing. Lots to agree with, lots to make you think, lots to add to the tbr pile. And they’re looking for submissions in all the areas they cover (I’ll certainly be submitting something in the future).
I’ve been wondering, off and on, where the modern day literary journal is – what can follow in the legacy of, say, The Yellow Book, Athenaeum, Rhythm – may I tentatively suggest we have found it in The Reader?
Just a quick note to say that I’ve added a link to Bookrabbit on the side – I’m still a little confused by this whole affiliates thing, but apparently if you click on it and buy a book from them, I’ll get a few pence every now and then! I might be adding something more personalised to certain books, with Amazon. Anyone else used these schemes and got useful feedback?
Firstly, for those looking out for daily updates on Miss Hargreaves and the rest of the Bloomsbury Group from Bloomsbury – click here to see the Miss H page with added cover image and review section (and see who is in the review section!) Searching for ‘Bloomsbury Group’ will get you the rest of the novels.
And the little quiz was one Ruth posted on her blog – click here – which tests how well you recognise Biblical quotations used in literature. I thought, since books and The Book are the topics I know most about, I’d do pretty well… turns out, no. Just six out of ten. Go on, do better than me.
I emailed this to Our Vicar and Our Vicar’s Wife, who’ve yet to respond. Don’t know whom my money’s on. OV might know more about the Bible, but I suspect OVW has read more of the books in question…
Nothing quite equals the joy of Miss Hargreaves, but the rest of ‘The Bloomsbury Group’ – the four others listed on the Bloomsbury website – are also pleasures to await.
The Brontes Went To Woolworths – Rachel Ferguson
This one has proved quite popular across the blogs over the last year, but secondhand copies were getting scarce – how wonderful to be able to recommend it knowing that people can actually buy it! I wrote about it here, a post which also has links to several other people’s reviews. Rachel Ferguson is also represented by Persephone Books, who reprinted Alas, Poor Lady – a book I own but haven’t yet read.
Henrietta’s War: News From The Home Front 1939-1942 – Joyce Dennys
Hadn’t heard of this one before, but I’m definitely looking forward to reading it, sounds right up my street. ‘Told through letters and charmingly illustrated by the author, Henrietta’s War is a hilarious, wry, but often very moving, epistolary novel of life in rural wartime Britain’. As with all the other titles, more on the website. (Once you’re there, and have searched for ‘Bloomsbury Group’, just click on the titles)
A Kid For Two Farthings – Wolf Mankowitz
Another new one for me – the combination of the East End of London and unicorns isn’t to be missed! From the 1950s, so edging out of my comfort zone. I look forward to trying it.
Mrs. Tim of the Regiment – DE Stevenson
I know DES has fans as fervent as Jane Austen’s and Barbara Pym’s, and my one dalliance with her (see this post) was, with a few small reservations, a very happy one. Mrs. Tim sounds a little Provincial Ladyesque – diaries with self-deprecating humour, trying – and failing – to keep up with those around her. Difference is, she’s an army wife. Also looks like it contains a sprinkling of romance.
To finish with an utterly irrelevant aside – I’ve been painting again. I did three of my housemates, to go on the living room wall, and finally did my self-portrait (much harder)