Sunday Confessions

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Yes, the title is stolen from dovegreyreader – but this Sunday Confessions is a little different. It’s by way of a game, which my friend Barbara-from-Ludlow introduced to me, I believe, but which has been enjoyed by Literary Types for many a year.

In some circles it is fun to see which books you have in common – which ones all of you have read. In The Clan there is a very small list, owing partly to Our Vicar’s predilection for non-fiction, partly to The Carbon Copy’s dislike of everything pre-1900 (excepting Jane Austen, thank goodness) and habit of re-reading the same dozen books time and again. Our Vicar’s Wife and I can make dozens of shared reads – but those which all four members of The Clan have read are:
-Pride and Prejudice
-Diary of a Nobody
-Wuthering Heights
-The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time
-1984

I think that may be it.

But this isn’t the game I’m going to foist upon you today. This one is called ‘Humiliations’, but it isn’t as drastic as it sounds. The idea is to group together a literary bunch (hey presto), and each has to confess to three famous books they haven’t read – and really should have. REALLY should have. Can you stand the booing and hissing? I hope so, cos I’d like you all to contribute to the comments, and not make me the *only* one revealing my literary ignorance.

For the purpose of this, let’s only count them if you’ve reading nothing by that author – i.e. I haven’t read Great Expectations, but I’ve read my fair share of Charlie D, so that’s off. But I have now revealed further ignorance. Oops.

Ok, here goes. My little list of three. Get ready to make a united gasp of horror.

-To Kill A Mockingbird – Harper Lee
-Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
-Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh

Shocked? Time to confess…

Dear Diary…

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I don’t know about you, but I always feel in some sort of quandry when reading someone else’s diaries. I mean published ones, of course – I would never commit such a violation as to read a friend’s diary or journal… but why do we make the distinction here? Because the author is dead? Because they are a stranger? Because they are famous? Hmm… You see, the difficult thing is, I love reading diaries of people – and letters, especially if a book has the correspondence between both, er, correspondents. For some in this ilk, look out for the letters of Joyce Grenfell and Virginia Graham; or Nancy Mitford and Heywood Hill. You see, there I go already, recommending things I’m not *quite* sure I feel comfortable reading.

I’ve kept a journal since 2001 – they are all spread out in that picture up there. Now, I would hate, hate, hate for anyone to read them – and I imagine anyone else would hate, hate, hate to be put through the experience. I was 15 when I started writing them, remember. I love this quotation from Richmal Crompton’s novel ‘The Gypsy’s Baby’, she even got the name right: “Simon was at the age when he imagined that everyone around him took an intense and generally malevolent interest in his doings.” Well, that was me, I daresay.

So why am I content to read the diaries of, say, Virginia Woolf? Partly because they’re brilliant pieces of writing, but what IS it that makes the diaires of lesser beings so interesting? Just curiosity? A couple of years ago an Oxfam worker discovered the diary of Ilene Powell, from 1925, and published it (see pic). It was incredibly mundane, with tiny scraps of entries – about two days’ output for a regular, angsty teenager. So why was it so interesting?

Well, all of this soul-searching had to be followed with some sort of book recommendation, didn’t it? Having questioned the practice of reading diaries, I am going to flag up The Assassin’s Cloak (not to be confused with Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin, as I did for a while). For every day of the year, the editors have selected entries from ‘the world’s greatest diarists’. All the invasive fun of diary-reading, plus the excitement of serendipity, as you see that Pepys was eating an egg on the same day as Vita Sackville-West centuries later. Ok, I made that one up – but there are all sorts of interesting comparisons. The usual suspects, such as Pepys, are featured – but all periods are covered, and The Provincial Lady even gets a look-in. The only dull ones are those from self-important politicians and/or celebrities, publishing their own highly-edited diaries, citing how many famous people they have met. I’m a few weeks behind, but this is an ideal day-by-day companion, but also good to flick through. For instance, on my birthday Maurice Collis was listening to Lady Astor talk about Stalin; Anthony Powell was assuring Frank Longford that he wasn’t used in A Dance To The Music of Time; Jean Cocteau was musing upon the lure of the radio.

I suppose blogging is the new diary-writing – though they should retain their very different approaches. Unless you fancy a list of famous people I have met…

Oh yes… any recommendations?
Hypocrite, me!?

!!

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As an addendum to my previous post, a bit of internet-searching reveals 1959 saw a television opera of Miss Hargreaves, called ‘The Spur of the Moment’, and that Margaret Rutherford starred in a 1960 straight adaptation of the book, on television (I knew she’d done the play; didn’t know about the film.) Is there any way of tracking these things down?!

EDIT: the film was actually 1950, not 1960 – sorry

“I abominate fuss…” (50 Books…)

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4. Miss Hargreaves – Frank Baker

(for my more recent, longer review of this book – click here)
Ok, The Provincial Lady was the most representative of my reading tastes, perhaps – but if you only read one book I recommend, let this one be it. It will change your life – honest. (Only very *slightly* over the top…) I can’t think of a novel which compares; Miss Hargreaves is truly in a class of its own.

Norman and his friend Henry are on holiday in Lusk – on a dull day they wander into a church, and have to make conversation with an even duller verger. On the spur of the moment, Norman says he has a shared acquaintance with the parish’s old vicar – and that acquaintance is one Miss Hargreaves. She’s nearly ninety, carries a hip flask, bath and cockatoo with her everywhere, not to mention Sarah the dog. Continuing the joke, they send a letter to her supposed hotel, asking if she’d like to come and stay. When Miss Constance Hargreaves arrives on a train, Norman has some explaining to do, and the strange occurences are just beginning…

It is a cliche of criticism, but Miss Hargreaves genuinely did make me both laugh and cry – and pretty much every emotion in between. I thought the theme would pall, but Baker keeps the momentum going for every page, and I never wanted it to end. And though this is without doubt Connie’s book, the secondary characters are also wonderful – especially Norman’s bookshop-owning father, Mr. Huntley. As my friend Curzon recently said “what a joyous book! I loved every moment” – in fact, don’t just take our words for it. I have forced – apologies, suggested – this book to so many people, probably two dozen, and only one has not raved. If you’ve liked any of the other books I’ve mentioned, I guarantee you’ll love this. And you’re in hallowed company – Elaine at Random Jottings, Lisa at Blue Stalking, Ruth at Crafty People, and Lynne at dovegreyreader are all fanatics. Check out this post, for dovegreyreader’s mention of the novel, back in May 2006. I’ve very cheekily commented on it again, to thrust it up into the Recent Comments section.

Ok. Here’s the bad news. It’s quite difficult to get a hold of. It is in print – see the picture – but that is a £30 edition from Tartarus Press. I have a copy (though that picture isn’t mine – all three of my editions are tucked away at home), and you may well not be able to resist it – but £30 is quite a lot to gamble. There was a Penguin edition – one of those nice orange-striped ones – so check out sites like www.addall.com for them, but the dovegreybooks@yahoogroups.co.uk have just done a group read, and the interweb may have a paucity of them right now. Do keep trying! I would offer mine for loan, but they’re in Somerset at the moment, and a little too close to my heart…
I’ve stolen the second picture (another edition I have) from www.briansibley.com, a fellow fan, who has some interesting things to say, and a link to the official Frank Baker website. Brian also wrote a rather fun radio adaptation, a cassette of which I managed to persuade an archive site to make for me. I played it too often, and it’s not working very well now… but I still have the novel to keep me company. I’ve read it three times now, and I can’t see any reason why I won’t read it another thirty. Possibly my favourite novel. I do hope I’ll get the legions to come advocate it in the comments!

Hope you like my colouring-in…

So, I started making a list…

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Yup, I started making a list of books I might read over the Summer. And it got looooong. I am going to have two, fairly uninterrupted months in which to relax and catch up on non-uni reading – but the question is, which do I choose? So, you guys are going to help me out, deal?

Here’s the shortlist. They’re all on my shelf. Let’s whittle. Tell me anything I shouldn’t bother with, or, as is more likely, ones DEFINITELY not to be missed.

Mrs. Miniver – Jan Struther: heard so much about it, and haven’t quite got around to it…

Thrown to the Woolfs – John Lehmann: his experiences working with Leonard Woolf at the Hogarth Press. Apparently doesn’t pull any punches.

Saplings – Noel Streatfeild: been so long since I read a Persephone, and this one has been in the pipeline for a year or two

Notes on a Scandal – Zoe Heller: I always feel guilty when I watch a film without having read the book…

Dusty Answer – Rosamund Lehmann: was going to read this with dovegreybooks@yahoogroups.co.uk SUCH a long time ago, and never did…

Katherine Mansfield – Claire Tomalin: love Mansfield, love Tomalin. Can’t go wrong, can I?

Love Letters – Leonard Woolf and Trekkie Parsons: the love letters between Leonard and the woman he fell in love with after Virginia’s death

Jonathan Norrell and Mr. Strange – Susan Clarke: friend gave it to me, dovegreyreader talked of little else for a month or so…?

We Need To Talk About Kevin – Lionel Shriver: I am too late on this one? No pun intended.

Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen: don’t worry, this would be a re-read – but I miss reading Austen, and would like to squeeze in another look

Random Commentary – Dorothy Whipple: a sort of notebook about the novels this wonderful Persephone author was writing; was so excited when I came across it in a secondhand bookshop on last year’s Cornwall holiday

One Pair of Hands – Monica Dickens: started reading the first few pages when I should have been reading Chaucer, and found it irresistible.

The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox – Maggie O’Farrell: saw this on dovegreyreader, is it even published yet?

The Time-Traveller’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger: another one every else has read; I really should

A Well Full of Leaves – Elizabeth Myers: her letters were my favourite read of last year, so should really delve into the fiction. Something of an outsider, in terms of odds.

The Secret Option…

Community Service

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It’s the end of my first week in the Blogosphere, and thank you all for making me feel so welcome! My clever stats counter tells me I’ve had visitors from UK, USA, Australia, Spain, Italy, Belgium, Canada, Malaysia and Montenegro… so I’d best stop making my jokes Britain-specific. Oh, before I forget – well done everyone on the Twins In Literature challenge – very impressed, and must seek some out. I do like reading about twins, if only so I can complain how unrealistic the portrayal is…

I don’t know about you, but I sometimes feel a little like that cartoon – but in a good way. My ‘e-friends’ form a lovely book group, but the nearest I get to contact is a computer screen. Which shows both the advantages and shortfalls of this Internet Age – the former outweighing the latter, when it comes to finding likemindedly-bookish people. So, to make the little links on the side make more sense, I thought I’d talk you through the ‘People to see…’ This won’t be news to a lot of you, but… well, humour me. For others – come on, meet my friends and neighbours. Some of them will spell it ‘neighbors’, but we love them anyway.

Random Jottings – (see pic) I talked about Elaine in my Delafield posting – one of my longest-standing e-friends, and guaranteed to give illuminating conversation on anything to do with Victorian novels or opera. And, of late, she’s been branching into Modern Literature (we console each other on having to tread past 1950; she’s doing much better than me) – thanks to…

Dovegreyreader – Is there a man, woman, child or animal who does not know of dovegreyreader, otherwise known as Lynne? Well, I knew her BEFORE the fame. Yes. And one day I will use my connections to advantage. One day. The blogging queen, and hub of the community – the one who will drop in with a tray of biscuits to make sure you’re settling in the village.

BlueStalking – The third blog artiste I’ve known from her younger days as a mere internet-user. Lisa is a librarian-something-or-other-soon-to-be-bona-fide-one, lives out Chicago way, and is an extremely funny lady. Possibly the person with the closest reading taste to mine that I have met… She’s also a sports fan. But we can let that pass.

The Carbon Copy – he’s actually listed as ‘Colin’, but you get the picture. Don’t be put off by the fact that his website is devoted to a soap opera character; just click the diary button, and be amused by the funniest person I know, and the best (only…) brother I ever had.

Crafty Person – (see pic) again, known from my days on a book list devoted to Persephone Books, though how Ruth got there I can’t imagine – has to be rather cajouled to get through a book, but is wonderfully craft-orientated to make up for it. Some lovely photos.

Cornflower – talking of beautiful pictures, Karen is something of an expert with the camera. Sees the extraordinary in the mundane, and shares many with her visitors – and, of course, is also extremely bookish. Do stop by. Karen also pointed me in the direction of 3191: beautiful photographs taken every morning, by friends 3191 miles apart.

Janice’s Reading Diary – (see pic, below) Came across Janice’s site while bored and clicking on the ‘next blog’ function of blogger.com – very glad I did! Janice puts up images from her reading journal, wonderfully illustrated and collaged. Lots of variety, too – something for everyone, hopefully!

Harriet Devine – more books! Are you spotting a theme? I’ve only come across Harriet in the last week, so you’ll all know more than me – but do get into the draw for a free copy of the wonderful Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman – now!


Daphne Sayed – Everyone from my Persephone-list days (ongoing days, I might add) seems to have made a blog – Daphne’s is quite new, like mine, but she’d welcome visitors nonetheless!

Lost in Translation – Another one that everyone else knows about, but I’ve only popped in a few times, so I’ll just flag up another great place for book-chat.

My Other Haunt – if all the literary talk overwhelms you, all my lowbrow conversation takes place over here… Expect lots on Neighbours, the soap opera.

Phew! Well, tired? Me too. At least you can now put descriptions to (type)faces!

50 Books…

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3. The Piano Shop on the Left Bank – Thad Carhart

There is thus far an imbalance towards modern literature on my ’50 Books You Must Read But May Not Have Heard About’ list, which probably won’t continue… but today’s entry is chosen because I’m rather hoping the suggestee might materialise in the near future…

A very dear friend of mine, Barbara-from-Ludlow, lent a copy of this book to me in 2004, and I adored it. It achieved what twelve years of piano lessons had not done; I fell in love with the piano. That all rather subsided when I failed my next grade, but time is a great healer – and now I am back to celebrate Carhart’s work!

On first reading, I thought this was a novel – but closer inspection reveaks that it is in fact (!) non-fiction – but of the sort which teeters on the edge. The best kind, in my opinion. Quite unusually, the ‘blurb’ on the back is accurate, and thus you shall be treated to it in full:

T.E. Carhart, an American living in Paris, is intrigued by a piano repair shop hidden down a street near his apartment. When he finally gains admittance to the secretive world of the atelier, he finds himself in an enormous glass-roofed workshop filled with dozens of pianos. His love affair with this most magical of instruments and its music is reawakened. Packed with delicate cameos of Parisians and reflections on how pianos work and their glorious history, The Piano Shop on the Left Bank is an atmospheric and absorbing journey to an older way of life.

Hmm… tails off a little in the truth stakes towards the end. Delicate cameos? Beg pardon? And I must confess ‘their glorious history’ is packed into one rather dull chapter which I skipped over. But aside from that, this is a beautiful novel, very much a ‘love affair’ with the instrument. Do check out Cornflower’s comments on this book, around the 7th March 2007. I does rather look like I’m stealing her blog wholesale… honest I’m not, guv!

Having said that, the discussion she started re:music lessons rings a bell. I had a nice teacher – Miss Lylah Goodwin, whose most unintentionally brilliant and far-reaching act MUST be lending me Miss Hargraves; more on soooon – but I HATED practising and lessons for a very, very long time. Our Vicar and Our Vicar’s Wife, never ones to overindulge their offspring, proved resistance futile, and I only stopped just before I came to university. Luckily, by then I liked it (my parents were RIGHT? Really?) and this very afternoon I took myself off to one of Magdalen’s piano rooms, to hammer out a bit of Bach. Lovely revision break,

I shall add a disclaimer for this book: don’t read it if you can’t play the piano and really, really wish you could. It’ll only frustrate you. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not excellent at the ivories by any stretch of the imagination – but if piano-playing is a deepset ambition which has never been fulfilled, this book can only wrankle. Otherwise, you’ll love it!

N.B. The cartoon may make no sense to American visitors. Google HSBC and NatWest. It may also make no sense to those with a more sophisticated sense of humour than I…

Studentification

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It’s been a nice, restful Sunday here at Stuck-in-a-book. Church in the morning, followed by a very enjoyable picnic in the University Parks, and then reading books/writing letters/watching a comforting episode of Foyle’s War.

All of which has distracted me from the rigours of exam revision. The finals (which start on 14th May, in case you wondered) will cover everything from Pearl-poet (or the Gawain-poet, if you prefer), up until 1836. And at the moment it’s all rather interesting, though ‘fun’ might be an overstatement.

Oxford is something of a site of mystery from the outside, I should think. I certainly felt that way before I joined its hallowed ranks – but the Big Bad Secret is… it’s all rather normal. Hope that hasn’t dashed anybody’s fond Brideshead-related imaginings… but the sad truth is that we’re all a little bit dull here. Yup, some of the ‘world’s experts’ tutor – but none of my tutors have been above 35, let alone of the Mad Professor variety. And, do you know, not a single person has been murdered in my college? Perhaps, now that Morse is dead, criminals have stopped bothering. One of the few things, though, which Oxford manages to do well is beauty. Witness the photo at the top…

Oh, and before you feel too many illusions have been shattered, here are some anomalies we DO have:
-for exams, gowns must be worn; mortar boards must be CARRIED, not worn. Wearing them carries a fine of £35.
-when the clocks change, students at Merton walk several times backwards around a quad, drinking port. The tradition started in 1970.
-we only have one designated sport area in Magdalen: the croquet lawn

50 Books…

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2. The Provincial Lady

Now, this is probably the book which will best guide you in an understanding of my literary tastes. Perhaps even whispering the word ‘Persephone‘ would do that for many of you? Early twentieth-century domestic fiction doesn’t come better than today’s entry.

Next to be presented for inclusion in ’50 books…’ is The Provincial Lady, possibly well known to a lot of you out there. If it’s not, then BUY IT! Yes, it is not often that I shall wander into the forceful, but I cannot see any valid reason why this book is not in every household. Possibly several times. For backing up on this, may I direct you to the enthused ear of Random Jottings, one of my oldest (by which I mean, of course, longest-standing) e-friends. We bonded over EM Delafield about three years ago, and have sent a flurry of her books back and forth – is there a better basis for friendship than sharing a cherished author? Can’t think of many.

For those who don’t know, this is a fictional diary, based heavily on Delafield’s own life and family. Not a great deal happens, but as we meander through the struggles of middle-class village life, the heroine’s resigned, deadpan approach to everything becomes utterly irresistible. The book you see in the photo contains all four in the series – The Diary of a Provincial Lady; The Provincial Lady Goes Further (my favourite); The Provincial Lady in America; The Provincial Lady in Wartime. For stateside readers, the fourth of those is ‘…in London’. Don’t be fooled by The Provincial Lady in Russia. This was initially published as Straw Without Bricks, and is an account of Delafield’s time in a Soviet collective (!!), and only later did publishers see the potential profit in labelling it one of the series.

Alongside the book is the cassette. Dramatised, with Imelda Staunton as PL, and rather wonderful – do try and track it down if you can.

And once you’ve read Provincial Lady… well, I love As Others Hear Us, Faster! Faster!, Mrs. Harter… I do hope Random Jottings will comment and give us further info, for she is the true mine of knowledge on all things EMD. As is this website – it includes extracts, which should lure you in.

In other news, today was the Grand National. The Clan have an annual habit of picking a horse each, based entirely upon name and colours. This year, failing to notice one was called Simon, I plumped for Silver Birch – on the basis that Richmal Crompton wrote a book of short stories with the title. And it won! Shame our bets are of the imaginary kind…

The Rest of the Clan…

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I thought it was about time you got introduced to the rest of the Family Thomas – there we are, all staring at something to the left. Wonder what it is. I had some trouble drawing Mum, but the male contingent of the Thomases look uncannily like their cartoon equivalents.

It seems quite the vogue – with dovegreyreader at any rate, and where she leads, I follow – to give family members more blogworthy names. And I have done so. But what to choose? With The Provincial Lady in mind (watch out for her over the next few days), I have christened Dad as Our Vicar, for such is his profession. In the same line, note Our Vicar’s Wife (she is decidedly nicer and less verbose than Delafield’s creation, fear not.) Our Vicar’s Wife also answers to The Chef. And then comes The Carbon Copy, who is nine (or, if you believe him, seven) minutes younger than me. That’s your lot. Give them a cheery wave, they might well be cropping up in the future.

Whilst The Carbon Copy is being mentioned, here’s a little literary challenge. Books with twins in… any ideas? Off the top of my head, can only think of:
Double Act – Jacqueline Wilson
Twins at St. Clare’s – Enid Blyton
The Ridleys – Richmal Crompton

Twins surely can’t be the preserve of children’s writers?