Places to be, books to read…

As I mentioned the other day, I have a pile of books I’ve been meaning to read for ages and ages – and I’m taking this week off to indulge in them! Some are review copies, most are recommendations I snapped up a while ago. And here’s the pile, as it stands… Let me know if you’ve read any of them, or have them on your tbr piles…


Brother of the More Famous Jack – Barbara Trapido
The lovely people of Bloomsbury sent me all Trapido’s novels last September, and I’ve been keen to read them – but somehow more urgent books have always got in the way. Not any more, Trapido, love…

Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
My book group is reading old Jude for next month… to be honest, this could take most of my week, but I’ve been meaning to read it for at least five years and am glad to have a deadline proffered.

26a – Diana Evans
I’m afraid I can’t remember who recommended this, but apparently it’s one of the best depictions of twins in recent novels – and is written by a twin. Bonus.

Fragile – Chris Katsaropoulos
A review book I’ve been really intrigued by… which has now worked its way to the top of the review pile.

The Sandcastle – Iris Murdoch
I am absolutely DETERMINED to read some Iris Murdoch this year, having meant to since I saw the film Iris, gosh, nearly a decade ago. I can’t remember who recommended this one, but I think perhaps it was my friend Lorna?

Secret Lives – E.F. Benson
I yield to few in my love of Mapp & Lucia, but have yet to read any other of EFB’s novels. I’m pretty certain Nancy told me to read this one, but I could be getting my names mixed up…


It’s a nice group of books, covering a wide span of years… half by men, half by women. Let’s see how many I get through this week – kicking off with Trapido.

Oh, and you’ll have noticed that Project24 has remained at 8 for the whole month, more or less – so I’m back on track!

Year Four: Book Reviews

Adams, Poppy – The Behaviour of Moths
Atwood, Margaret – The Penelopiad
Baker, Frank – Stories of the Strange and Sinister
Barbal, Maria – Stone in a Landslide
Barbery, Muriel – The Elegance of the Hedgehog
Barford, Mirren & John Lewes – Joy Street: A Wartime Romance in Letters 1940-42
Beauman, Ned – Boxer, Beetle
Benatar, Stephen – Wish Her Safe At Home
Benson, E.F. – Secret Lives
Brown, George Mackay – Andrina and other stories
Buck, Pearl S. – The Good Earth
Christie, Agatha – The Murder at the Vicarage
Comyns, Barbara – The Vet’s Daughter
Comyns, Barbara – The Skin Chairs
Crompton, Richmal – Matty and the Dearingroydes
Delafield, E.M. – Gay Life
Delius, F.C. – Portrait of the Woman as a Young Mother
Dench, Judi – And Furthermore
Devine, Harriet – Being George Devine’s Daughter
Devonshire, Deborah – Wait for Me!
Foer, Jonathan Safran – Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Forster, E.M. – Howards End
Forster, E.M. – The Machine Stops & The Celestial Omnibus
Gallico, Paul – Love of Seven Dolls
Giono, Jean – The Man Who Planted Trees
Gordon-Cumming, Jane – The Haunted Bridge
Hardy, Thomas – Jude the Obscure
Hare, David – The Hours (screenplay)
Hill, Susan – A Kind Man
Hunt, Rebecca – Mr. Chartwell
James, Henry – The Turn of the Screw
Jansson, Tove – Travelling Light
Johnston, Jennifer – The Gingerbread Woman
Kaye-Smith, Sheila & G.B. Stern – More Talk of Jane Austen
Laski, Marghanita – Little Boy Lost
Laski, Marghanita – Love on the Supertax
Macaulay, Rose – Dangerous Ages
Macaulay, Rose – Personal Pleasures
Manguel, Alberto – Stevenson Under The Palm Trees
Mankowitz, Wolf – A Kid For Two Farthings
McHaffie, Hazel – Remember Remember
Miller, Arthur – All My Sons
Mills, Magnus – The Maintenance of Headway
Milne, A.A. – Once A Week
Milne, A.A. – The Dover Road
Mitchell, David – The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet
Morley, Christopher – The Haunted Bookshop
Munro, Alice – Too Much Happiness
Murdoch, Iris – The Sandcastle
Myers, L.H. – Strange Glory
O’Grady, Rohan – Let’s Kill Uncle
Olivier, Edith – The Love Child (various)
Pheby, Alex – Grace
Playfair, Jocelyn – A House in the Country
Porter, Adrian – The Perfect Pest
Read, Herbert – The Green Child
Robinson, Marilynne – Gilead
Robinson, Mary – The Art of Gardening
Sagan, Francoise – Bonjour Tristesse
Shaw, Ali – The Girl With Glass Feet
Shelley, Mary – Frankenstein
Sheridan, Richard B. – The Rivals
Solomons, Natasha – Mr. Rosenblum’s List
Spark, Muriel – The Driver’s Seat
Spark, Muriel – Loitering With Intent
Streatfeild, Noel – Saplings
Szymborska, Wislawa – People on a Bridge
Todd, Barbara Euphan – Miss Ranskill Comes Home
Trapido, Barbara – Brother of the More Famous Jack
Tsiolkas, Christos – The Slap
Vanbrugh, Irene – To Tell My Story
von Arnim, Elizabeth – The Caravaners
Waters, Sarah – The Little Stranger
Waters, Sarah – The Night Watch
Waugh, Evelyn – The Loved One
Whipple, Dorothy – High Wages
Young, E.H. – William

Stuck-in-a-Book’s Weekend Miscellany

So, my thesis is all handed in, and I’m taking the week off! I’ve amassed an implausibly high tower of books to read this week. I wonder how many I’ll get through – since one of them is Jude the Obscure, I wouldn’t be surprised if the answer is something around ‘one’. There is (as my mother always told me) a time and a place for everything – and Stuck-in-a-Book’s Weekend Miscellany is not the place to tell you all about the books I’ll be reading. Look out for a picture of a tottering pile sometime on Sunday evening… and then you can weigh in and tell me the order in which I should read them.

Where were we? Oh, of course – the ole book, link, blog post malarkey.

1.) The book – is Ellipsis, arrived yesterday, and is a little unusual for these parts inasmuch as it describes itself as ‘a disturbing thriller’. But I was intrigued by the blurb, and by the fact that the author (Nikki Dudley) shares her name with a girl who was at my school. I presume it’s not the same person, but that’s because I like to pretend nobody younger than me has achieved big things yet. Anyway, here’s the blurb – it’s not something the Provincial Lady would read, but perhaps intriguing enough to make a change?

“Right on time,” Daniel Mansen mouths to Alice as she pushes him to his death. Haunted by these words, Alice becomes obsessed with discovering how a man she didn’t know could predict her actions. On the day of the funeral, Daniels’ cousin, Thom, finds a piece of paper in Daniel’s room detailing the exact time and place of his death. As Thom and Alice both search for answers, they become knotted together in a story of obsession, hidden truths and the gaps in everyday life that can destroy or save a person.
I feel a little on edge just typing that… let’s move onto a link.

2.) The link(s) – University Reviews Online keep emailing me, and at first I thought it was spam but now it looks like not. Persistance should be rewarded, should it not, so here is their link to 10 Important Writers Who Went To Jail For Their Work. Off the top of my head I can think of one (Oscar Wilde – yes, it was for ‘immoral thought’ in Dorian Gray not for, erm, anything else) but he doesn’t make the list… and in fact I’ve not heard of any of them, but interesting nonetheless.

A few other bits and bobs to put under this umbrella, playing fast and loose with the normal arrangement of these weekend miscellanies…

—A new website called Books & Media has been set up by BDS: ‘a new web-based subscription service for anyone who wants to know what the media is saying about books and authors’. There’s a free trial period of two months on at the moment, could be worth a look. I’m not sure how useful this is for readers, as opposed to professionals, but… nice to know books are getting some attention!

—Carte Noire are trying to find their Ideal Reader. Not entirely sure how they’re going about it, and I think – as someone who doesn’t like coffee – I’m unlikely to be it, but there are more details on their website. I got side-tracked by watching celebrities read from the classics – fancy hearing Joseph Fiennes read Thomas Hardy or Dominic West read Pride and Prejudice? Well, there are some rather arty sepia-shots of them doing so (even if Mr. West wrongly states that Jane and Bingley were engaged before Bingley went off to London).

3.) The blog post – Danielle aka A Work in Progress is starting a read-along of Anna Karenina by Mr. Leo Tolstoy (are there two schools of thought on pronunciation of ‘Karenina’, or are my friends just wrong? I’m Kah-ren-ih-nuh all the way, none of this Kah-ruh-nee-nuh nonsense for me). See her first thoughts on it here… I’m tempted to join in, but with my pile of books to read next week… it’ll have to go on hold for now.

The night before the day after…

Just a quick post to say that I’m in the final throes of editing my thesis – tomorrow is my big deadline for the year, and so I shan’t be writing anything much here tonight!

Instead, I shall leave you with a lovely little song with a lovely little video, which I first heard here… no real reason for the post, other than that I was listening to it today! See you on the other side!

Fragile Feet

Better late than never, I have finally finished Ali Shaw’s The Girl With Glass Feet – which I heard about because Simon S chose it as one of his books for Not The TV Book Group. I had nearly finished when I discovered that (a) Ali is a man, and (b) he worked for the Bodleian Library, like yours truly!

I don’t think it’s necessary for me to write a proper review, because there is such a good discussion over at Savidge Reads, so instead I shall offer you a link to that discussion and tell you that I liked the book a lot, with some reservations. Indeed, I shall give you a very, very short review, and tell you to pop over to that discussion.


I liked:
–the quirky ideas: glass feet! cow-moth-things! a bird that turns things white!
–a generally impressive and engaging writing style
–Shaw didn’t just use a crazy idea for novelty value, it was well developed and quite beautiful

I didn’t like:
–jumping around between narrative strands and not quite knowing where we were, or what the time setting was
–the dialogue felt a little clunky sometimes – too many ‘ums’

A quotation:
“She could feel the encroachment of the glass like an animal feeling the tremor before an earthquake.”

These quick reviews could be the way forward! I can go to bed now…

Professionally speaking…

Following on from the review yesterday, I was wondering: what’s the weirdest or most unusual choice of profession you’ve come across as the focus of a novel? (I feel that could be much better phrased, but I can’t think of anything at the moment.)

I think the strangest one I’ve read is in Edward Carey’s Observatory Mansions, where the protagonist is one of those living statues, entirely covered in white.

Beat that, if you can!

You wait all day for one book about buses…

…and, to be honest, there’s still only one book about buses that comes along. Bloomsbury sent me a copy of The Maintenance of Headway by Magnus Mills ages and ages ago, probably around the invention of the first bus, but somehow I’ve only just read it. Such is the state of my tbr mountains (which are already looking nervous about the idea of moving house in three months’ time.)

The Maintenance of Headway is a very short book (you know how I like short books) all about the politics of bus driving and the interaction of bus drivers. I really like novels about unusual professions – not that bus driving is inherently unusual, it’s just unusual for a novel to focus on a bus driver – and so was intrigued about how this one would work.

Well, the unnamed narrator works amongst a group of fellow bus drivers who must adhere to the various Bus Driving Rules. Mills was apparently a bus driver himself, so he should know what they are. Chief amongst them – and iterated as chapter headings throughout the book – is ‘There’s no excuse for being early’. And then, of course, there is the Maintenance of Headway, intended to stop that phenomenon where three buses turn up at once. These rules are sprinkled throughout the novel, and I’m certainly going to feel more sympathetic next time I hop on a bus – but any action that came alongside was so understated that I think I missed it. There are some interesting touches about the hierarchy of driving, about drivers’ various idiosyncrasies, and some nostalgia for old-fashioned buses. All understated. Understated seems to be Mills’ thing.

I hadn’t heard of Magnus Mills when I received this novel, but everyone else seems to have – he was nominated for the Booker, and has all sorts of accolades on the back of the copy I have. Indeed, he is variously compared to PG Wodehouse, The Office, Brave New World, the Coen Brothers, and Alan Bennett. What an intriguing mix. What do they all have in common? That they’re all funny – and that’s the thing, I just didn’t find The Maintenance of Headway particularly funny. Interestingly, the one bit I wanted to quote is the bit a few other reviews have quoted:

There was a man standing in the road holding a large key. He was surrounded by a circle of traffic cones, in front of which was a red and white sign: ROAD CLOSED. I pulled my bus up and spoke to him through the window. ‘Morning,’ I said. ‘Morning,’ he replied. ‘Busy?’ ‘Will be in a minute,’ he said. ‘I’m just about to relieve the pressure.’ His van was parked nearby. He was from a water company. ‘Would it be possible to let me go past before you start?’ I enquired. ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said. ‘I’ve already put my cones out. Can’t really bring them all in again.’ I counted the cones. There were seven in total.
It had some interesting quirks, but it wasn’t quirky in the way that someone like Edward Carey is… somehow it just meandered. For a short novel, it went an awful lot of nowhere. Which isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy it – I think it would be closer to the point to say that I didn’t understand it, or tune into its wavelength. Even after reading two brilliant reviews by Kim and John, I know I’m missing something – and I’d like to read some of his earlier novels to see if that ‘something’ doesn’t elude me there.

Magnus Mills has a whole raft of interesting-looking novels in fact – All Quiet on the Orient Express, although I know little about it except its title, has already found its way into my Amazon wishlist. Although The Maintenance of Headway didn’t bowl me over, I’ll certainly be looking out for more Mills in the future…

Cats, cats everywhere

A little while back Dark Puss/Peter wrote a piece about Croc Attack! by Assaf Gavron. Not a man to overload himself with books, he’s devised a little feline competition to send the book off to another – UK entrants only, I’m afraid, although non-UK readers are very welcome to have a go at the quiz sans prize. (N.B. – for obvious reasons, don’t put the answers in the comment section!) Over to you, Peter…

Croc Attack! Competition

With Simon’s encouragement I have set a small literary competition for you. Here are five quotations from books of fiction containing cats who play significant, or dominant, roles in the story. All the books are from the 20thC, three are translated from another language, two might be described as “children’s literature”. If the name of the cat explicitly appears in any of the quotations I have replaced it with “****”
The rules are simple, email Simon (simondavidthomas@yahoo.co.uk) with the name of the cat and the name of the book for each of the five quotations. Simon will draw the winner from a hat if more that one person ties for first place. I’ll then post off “my” copy of Croc Attack when Simon sends me the winner’s postal address. Have fun!

Book 1
’I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance’, said **** in his silky voice. ‘Hello’ said Chester. He was ashamed because of the fuss he’d made. ‘I wasn’t scared for myself. But I thought cats and mice were enemies.’ ‘In the country, maybe,’ said Tucker. ‘But in New York we gave up those habits long ago. **** is my oldest friend. He lives with me over in the drain pipe. So how was scrounging tonight, ****?’

Book 2
From somewhere behind him a soft voice said, ‘Ah well, that’s better. I’m glad you’re alive. I wasn’t sure at all. But I say, you are a mess!’ Startled, for the memory of his encounter with the yellow cat was still fresh, **** rolled over and beheld the speaker squatted down comfortably beside him, her legs tucked under her, tail nicely wrapped around. She was a thin tabby with a part white face and throat that gave her a most sweet and gentle aspect heightened by the lively and kind expression in her luminous eyes that were grey-green, flecked with gold.

Book 3
A bend in the path and a gap in the leaves allowed Camille to see Alain and the cat once more from the distance. She stopped short and made a movement to retrace her steps. But she swayed for only an instant and then walked away faster than ever. For a while ****, on guard, was following Camille’s departure as intently as a human being. Alain was half-lying on his side ignoring it. With one hand hollowed into a paw, he was playing with the first green, prickly August chestnuts.

Book 4
The moment she saw the cat climb onto the tram, she screamed with a rage that made her whole body shake:
’No cats! No Boarding with cats! Scram! Off before I call the police’
Both the conductress and the passengers were oblivious to the heart of the issue: not that a cat was clambering onto a tram, which would be half the trouble, but that he intended to pay!

Book 5
However in my absence, the fir tree had grown a little and I could not reach to put the silver star on the top of it, even if I stood on tiptoe. You’re probably thinking that it should be fairly easy for a cat to climb a tree, But the tree was so small I was worried it would not bear my weight. So I went off to fetch one of those wooden boxes I’d seen lying around in the station. I hung the decorations on the tree, carefully threading the thin wires over the branches. Then I climbed up onto the box and tied the silver star to the very top with another piece of wire.

Stuck-in-a-Book’s Weekend Miscellany

I can’t believe it’s the weekend already – which probably is a sentiment which could only be expressed by a student. It also marks a week since my library book was due back… oh dear. And I’ve only just started it. The money I’m saving on not buying books has gone straight to paying fines for borrowing books…

It’s been a little while, but I’m sure you all remember the drill with the Weekend Miscellany. We keep it simple it here – one from each shelf, please. Here we go…

1.) The blog post – Is Simon S’s wonderfully enthused review of Evelyn Waugh’s The Loved One, which has definitely moved it a couple hundred places in my tbr mountain. I’ve read a couple Waughs before, and will again (you could say this is my inter-Waugh period, a-ha-ha-clunk).

2.) The book – came through the door yesterday, and is Tarzan and the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs. I was amused to see this back at the fore of Oxford University Press’ marketing – I walked past their shop on the high street yesterday, and there are dozens of copies in the window, I wish I’d had my camera with me. Obviously I’ve heard of Tarzan, but my main experience with him of late has been QD Leavis’ dismissal in her rather snobbish and wholly fascinating Fiction and the Reading Public (from 1932) that ‘to the highbrow public “Ethel M. Dell” or “Tarzan” should be convenient symbols, drawn from hearsay rather than first-hand knowledge’. Ouch! I’m looking forward to getting my first-hand knowledge, thanks Queenie, love.

3.) The link – is sort of cheating, because it’s to a blog. But it’s a whole blog, rather than an individual blog post, because the whole thing is just so wonderful. And the blog in question? I think I’ve mentioned it before, but was reminded of it this week on Facebook (thanks Meg!) It’s called Colour Me Katie. Well, in actual fact it’s the American equivalent of that, but I can’t bring myself to take the ‘u’ out of ‘Colour’ – sorry! Clicking here will take you to it. There are no books involved, for once – Katie is a freelance photographer and street artist, and basically does exciting little projects involving lots of colour! She’s chalked footprints down the street, painted Pac Man characters around walls, spontaneously put up paper balloons… it’s all so lovely and joyful and definitely colourful. I’m getting a bit of life-envy here… Oh, AND she has a cat. Go and become happier!

“Experience doth take dreadfully high wages…”

.
On the off chance that you’ll have me back, after Mel and Dark Puss have proved me completely dispensable over the past month, I’m going to turn my hand to another book review! And this time it’s a Persephone book, which always curries favour. I am getting a little ahead of myself, what with Persephone Reading Week coming up around the corner, but I thought it would cheating to review this then, since I actually finished it in the middle of March.

Dorothy Whipple’s High Wages (1930) is the latest Whipple novel to be published by Persephone and the third that I’ve read – the other two being the very wonderful Someone at a Distance and the pretty wonderful They Knew Mr. Knight. [edit: I forgot that I’ve also read Greenbanks, but don’t remember much about it…] High Wages focuses on Jane Carter, who takes a job working for Mr. Chadwick who runs a draper’s shop in Tidsley. She’s doing it on account of a stepmother, but we don’t think about her much after the first chapter, and she only really acts as a catalyst for what follows. Jane enters the politics of a small town and a small shop, dealing with the meanness of her employers, the lovesickness of her colleague Maggie, and the quiet friendship of poor-wife-made-good Mrs. Briggs.
Persephone’s write-up of the novel is very interesting, far more than just description of the book, and I recommend you give it a read by clicking here. They include this thought:She is not, of course, a ‘great’ writer. You could not take one of her sentences, as you can with, say, Mollie Panter-Downes, and hold it up to the light. But she is serviceable, perceptive and humane.I agree on all counts – while Whipple’s prose is a cut above a lot of her contemporaries (and almost everything I flick through in the bookshop now) she isn’t a notable stylist. She even veers towards the saccharine or predictable on occasion in this novel (though not in the other two I’ve read) – I definitely blame the romance plot, which High Wages could have done without, and would have been a better novel for it. I wouldn’t be surprised if Whipple’s publisher leant on her to include it… but it just got a little silly towards the end. (Query: is it possible to write the dialogue of people desperately and recklessly in love without sounding like a mediocre soap opera? Then again, I’m quite fond of mediocre soap operas…)


That aside, there is plenty to love. How could you not like a book with the following sentiment? :Oh, the comfort of that first cup of tea! The warmth and life it put into you! They held their hands round the cups to warm them and their eyes looked less heavily on the bleak kitchen.

‘What do we do now?’ asked Jane.

‘We have another cup of tea, said Maggie’The day-to-day runnings of the shop make excellent material for a novel, and that’s what I enjoyed most in High Wages – the hierarchies in the shop and those of the customers, and how Jane negotiates them. Such is the minutiae that Whipple does so well, and so perceptively.

An interesting sideplot is the maid Lily and her abusive husband. That sounds very gritty, but Whipple has a way of taking gritty plots and making them pretty cosy… And I do have a weakness for dialect-driven, unselfconscious servants in interwar novels – the best being Nellie in another Persephone, Cheerful Weather For The Wedding. For a taste of Nellie, click here – otherwise, back to Lily:

Lily arrived. She whimpered as she lit the fire, and as Jane reappeared at intervals in the kitchen, she told her Bob wasn’t like a husband at all.

‘Aren’t you going to love me a bit I says to ‘im this morning, and ‘e says with such a nasty look, “To ‘ell with you and your love.” Just like that.’

And when she tried to kiss him good-bye, he’d thrown a plate at her.

‘Whatever do you want to kiss him for?’ asked Jane, squeezing out the wash-leather for the shop-door glass. ‘Throw a plate back at him, my goodness.’

She thought she herself would make short work of such a husband.

‘No…’ Lily shook her head as she dipped the bald brush into the blacklead. ‘I couldn’t do that. Bad as ‘e is, I love ‘im. Besides, it’s me as ‘as to pay for the plate.’
Well, quite.

Throughout High Wages there is fairly strong divide between rich-bad-people and the ‘onest-‘umble-poor. Mrs. Briggs bridges the divide – in that she’s rich, but always harks back to the simpler times before her husband (whose name I forgot, but which I presume is Alfred or Albert; this sort of man is always called one of the two) got rich. I did find that all a little tedious… but that’s a small quibble. And is really mentioned as way of bringing up rich-bad-Sylvia, and this amusing description of her:
Sylvia, poor child, hadn’t a grain of humour in her composition. Not what he called humour. She didn’t like Punch. That was his test. She laughed at hats sometimes, but he couldn’t remember that she ever laughed at anything else.
All in all, High Wages is an enjoyable novel, though not one I think Persephone would have reprinted had it been Whipple’s only novel. I recommend you start with Someone at a Distance, if you’ve never read a Whipple novel before – but High Wages doesn’t do any damage to the credentials of Persephone’s most popular discovery.