Life must be filled up

It’s wet enough here but I’m so sorry for all the poor people up north with their homes and businesses ruined. Nan said it reminded her of The Nine Tailors, a very good comparison.

'Better patrol the roads between the Fenchurches,' suggested (Superintendent) Blundell. 'St Peter is greatly alarmed – they’re afraid for the bridges. We are arranging a service of ferry-boats. They lie even lower than you do and are, I fear, not so well prepared as you, sir.'
'We can offer them shelter here,' said the Rector. 'The church will hold nearly a thousand at a pinch, but they must bring what food they can. And their bedding, of course.'

Note the need for self reliance: no mobiles to call for help, no emergency services with helicopters to rescue people from their roofs. Everything was down to the local community, as it was at the time of the terrible floods of 1953. Strangely, the only novels I can think of which deal with that disaster were written for children. The best of these, I think, is The Great Gale by Hester Burton , published by OUP in 1960.



The book begins:
This is the story of what happened to a village in Norfolk one winter night, early in 1953. It is the story of everyone who lived in that village.

The main characters are Mary and Mark Vaughan, children of the local doctor. By ill chance, their parents are in Norwich on the night of the flood and the children have to cope alone in a house suddenly surrounded by rising water. As in The Nine Tailors, the church is used as a refuge. The sense of isolation is frightening: when the villagers listen to ‘a battery wireless’, the east coast gets no mention on the news.
Part of the book is based on a true life incident involving Airman Reis Leming, an American who won the George Cross. The children are not at all heroic but come bravely through their ordeal; there is never any doubt that the whole experience is terrifying and there is real tragedy. Hester Burton is best known for her historical novels but I prefer this twentieth century one, which I suppose is now historical! No one seems to read her now. My copy of this book is a first edition in perfect condition and it cost me almost nothing on eBay a while ago. Atmospheric pictures by Joan Kiddell-Monroe, too.( more flood books )

I posted this little quiz on a mailing list this morning to brighten a miserable day. The booklovers there got all but one in no time so I’ll now open it to all comers. Mostly from children’s or Girlsown-type books. Give the title and author.


1. ‘Oh, dulling,’ said my mother, sadly. ‘One always thinks that. Every, every time.’
The Pursuit of Love, Nancy Mitford
2. Gay Street, so J always thought, did not live up to its name.
Jane of Lantern Hill, L M Montgomery
3. Once on a dark winter’s day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted…an odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father…
A Little Princess, Frances Hodgson Burnett
4. ‘but, you know, he put his arms round her and he hugged her good-bye as if she were a little girl.’
5. It all began on my twelfth birthday. Mummy was pouring coffee, Daddy was buried in the Financial Times, and I was thinking how awkward it is when grown-up people will persist in giving you the sort of presents they’d have liked when they were your age…
Masquerade at the Wells, Lorna Hill
6. ‘It’s not what I call homely,’ said the old Cook, standing in the doorway of the spare bedroom at B and looking at an enormous skull and crossbones…’
The Picts and the Martyrs, Arthur Ransome
7. The parcel came while the family were having breakfast.
Party Frock, Noel Streatfeild
8. When S was eight, and had at last learned to read, she hunted slowly through the colour chart pinned to the kitchen wall.
Saffy's Angel, Hilary McKay
9. ‘Nothing ever happens to me,’ said RA, putting down the book that she had just finished and sighing gustily.
10. ‘Dance to us, Damson.’ The whisper came from every corner of the dormitory.
Damaris Dances, Elsie J Oxenham

ETA Girlsowners 10/10, LJ Users 78/10. Any more?

Because I really hate the whole Children in Need campaign.

I posted last week about how pleased I was to have acquired the third book in a trilogy. It was the last in a series of books by Freda C Bond, about the Lancaster family. Here’s the first, The End House. I spotted it years ago in a second hand bookshop. I knew nothing about the author but it took my fancy and I was right, I liked it a lot. Mrs Lancaster has been widowed while only in her forties and with six children to bring up. The family has to leave a large house in the country, move to a much smaller one in a town and give up the cars, maids and gardener. ‘Poor’ is a relative term for them, as is usual with books of this type. Faithful Bridget goes with them to cook and clean, there’s no trouble affording paint and curtains for the new house and those children still at private schools stay there, if not for long. Nevertheless, there are problems ahead.

The book was published in 1943 but is set in 1937/8, so no war yet. There are four girls: June, the artistic, selfish one who doesn’t pull her weight at home; Alison the domesticated home-lover; Rosemary, sporty and fun but not obviously talented; nice, practical Susan, who loves gardening. For light relief there are the much younger twin boys Nicky and Dick and later in the story, a Siamese cat. How the family copes with changed circumstances and the older girls find jobs makes for an interesting story, with a camping holiday as part of a travelling theatre run by their cousins thrown in. I love to have original dustwrappers on these old books. The back of this one features the latest Lone Pine books by Malcolm Saville. Hardly the same market, I’d have thought, as The End House is definitely a book for older girls, like Jam Tomorrow or Gwendoline Courtney’s books. ( more Lancasters )

It was all over the radio news yesterday that the BBC refused to broadcast anything by Enid Blyton, regarding her work as second-rate. It can't be a coincidence that this story was deemed 'news' just as the Beeb is about to show another television drama based on her life. This evening, nine o'clock on BBC4, starring Helena Bonham Carter.

Quite by chance, next week I'm going to a talk by Viv Endicott, who has made herself an expert on Enid Blyton's Dorset connections. I'm not a great admirer of Enid Blyton. The only books of hers I keep are the Malory Towers series and some of the family stories. Nevertheless, anyone interested in children's books must acknowledge her importance so I'll be glued to the screen this evening.

This has to be the prettiest cover and best title of the year. I was pleasantly surprised, too, that it’s not a massive tome but neatly sized, easy to hold and read. It’s far more autobiographical and less bookish than I expected and could be subtitled ‘Famous writers I have known.’ Following Susan Hill around her lovely old house as she plucked a book from a shelf here, removed a clutch from a table there and mused upon them, I found myself conducting a one-sided conversation with her along these lines:

‘Ooh, I have a childhood Bookano, too! ... I see you love Dickens as much as I do and I agree with you about Pickwick but how could you dismiss David Copperfield like that? ... You don’t like Jane Austen?! Bad luck. … The Bonfire of the Vanities really is terrific, you know, give it a try … I’m so jealous that you knew Kingsley Amis and I agree with you about Martin A, London Fields is awfully good … Why do you think Lucky Jim is only for young men? Wrong, Madam … You are not convincing me I want to read W G Sebald …’ and so on.

Howards End is on the Landing is an odd, bitty book: lit crit (though I don’t think Susan would call it that) mixed with Luddite opinions on book-related matters. I can’t agree that sites like Library Thing are ‘infernal engines’; they seem quite useful to me, although I’m not on any myself. I’m a great one for the paperback you can stuff in a Barbour pocket but I’d still rather like a Kindle or other eReader. They may be horrible lumps of plastic but look how many books you can store on them and how useful that could be for someone in hospital, for instance. Then, not many of her readers will be on first name terms with 'Paddy' Leigh Fermor or the Duchess of Devonshire and may care little for anecdotes about them.

I have to say I found some longeurs and yawned through sections on Penelope Fitzgerald, Elizabeth Bowen, Iris Murdoch, Barbara Pym, David Cecil and other people I don’t much admire myself. I’d also have liked an index. I have several 'books about books' on my wish list, such as Anne Fadiman’s Ex Libris. One I have read and enjoyed very much is Nick Hornby’s The Complete Polysyllabic Spree. Curious that I'm about half way in age between Susan Hill and Nick Hornby yet feel more in tune with the younger person!

Looking out of the window: green grass, golden leaves, grey clouds scudding, rain dripping from the thatch.
Indoors:

cheerful yarn from Lornas Laces, arrived in the post yesterday.



More glowing colour! Howards End is on the Landing, collected from the library this morning. When I got back, a book in the letter box; one I've been looking for for ages to complete a trilogy.
Three reasons to be cheerful and Happy Birthday to my sister!

Thanks to the wondrousness that is currently my library, I’ve been able to read the two latest offerings from Alexander McCall Smith (though I’ll probably buy them anyway, to match the rest). First, The Lost Art of Gratitude. *L
‘Detective series’ is a somewhat misleading description of the Isabel Dalhousie novels. Rather than page-turning mysteries we have slightly odd happenings which bother people and which Isabel feels obliged to investigate. There’s less description of events than there is stream of consciousness writing, in which Isabel’s thoughts wander, even while she’s on the phone or talking to someone else. It’s all very agreeable because she is an intelligent woman with an agreeable, indeed enviable lifestyle. Strolling around Edinburgh and its environs is also very pleasant. If I have a niggle with this particular title it’s the constant harping on about Scotland and Isabel’s pride in her son Charlie’s Scottishness (he even has a baby kilt). ‘What?’ you may say, ‘It is set in Edinburgh after all.’ Yes, but if I were to write a book about the wonderfulness of being English, someone having ‘English eyes’, for goodness sake, people would suspect me of BNP sympathies. 'Snot fair.

As usual, it’s the basic decency of the McCall Smith world which appeals. I liked this about books:

‘Children like simple tales,’ said Isabel.
‘And we don’t?’
Isabel thought about this. It was just too easy to say that adults did not like stories that were simple, and perhaps that was wrong. Perhaps that was what adults really wanted, searched for and rarely found: a simple story in which good triumphs against cynicism and despair. That was what she wanted, but she was aware of the fact that one did not publicise the fact too widely, certainly not in sophisticated circles. Such circles wanted complexity, dysfunction and irony: there was no room for joy, celebration or pathos. But where was the fun in that?

I think a lot of us are looking for that sort of fun sometimes.


Next. ( Corduroy Mansions )

It's getting dusky already and for some reason I'm remembering how we used to peer out of the window on Bonfire Night longing for the dark and the excitement to come. I used to read this book to get me in the mood. In those pre-health and safety days there'd be a bonfire and fireworks in almost every back garden. We were allowed not only to buy fireworks ourselves but to keep them in our bedrooms. We bought the little ones, 'holding fireworks' as they were known ('Always Hold in Gloved Hand'); Golden Rain, Silver Fountain, sparklers. The catherine wheels and rockets were left to the grownups.



It was one of the great events of the year and Hallow'een didn't exist for us. Bonfire Night is still taken seriously in places like Lewes but you only have to look at the shops to know that the time of year has been Americanised. Shame. It was such fun going into the foggy garden next morning (the weather has changed, too!) looking for dead rockets with the smell of old smoke and chrysanthemums hanging in the air.

Here's Adrian Mole on the subject:
Friday November 6th
Last night some irresponsible people down our street had bonfire parties in their own back gardens!
Yes!
In spite of being warned of all the dangers by the radio, television, Blue Peter and the media they went selfishly ahead.

Saturday November 7th
The Marriage Guidance Council bonfire was massive. It was a good community effort....
Nobody was seriously burned but I think it was a mistake to hand out fireworks at the same time the food was being served.

The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole by Sue Townsend, 1982

When I read Can’t Wait to get to Heaven by Fannie Flagg, I didn’t realize that there were three books about the same characters. I’ve read them backwards, next Standing in the Rainbow and now Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!

Dena Nordstrom, the eponymous Baby Girl, is a young woman of flawless Nordic beauty. Through looks and intelligence she’s broken into television interviewing and is starting to be a valuable commodity. She should have a wonderful life but is actually a mess. She drinks and smokes too much, has no friends, can’t sustain a good relationship with a man and spends too much time alone. The reason for all this is very sad. Her father was killed in the War before she was born and Dena tells people her mother is dead. Actually she disappeared, abandoning her fifteen-year-old daughter. As a result Dena refuses to talk about the past and repulses the loving attentions of her few relations in Elmwood Springs, Missouri.

Events force Dena to confront her problems and the unraveling of the mystery about her mother turns the book into a real page turner. The action moves around between New York in the 1970s and the past in various places, including Vienna. Happily, one of those places is Elmwood Springs, home of Neighbor Dorothy, the broadcasting housewife and Dena’s relatives, Norma and Macky and Norma’s Aunt Elner. I love these characters and find them very funny. Norma is my favourite, with her neat freak ways, her constant worrying about things which may never happen, her threats of imminent nervous breakdown and real goodness and kindness.

This book combines the homey-ness of the other two with a mystery that I wanted solved and couldn't guess the answer to. I really enjoyed it.

First, many thanks for all the get well messages, which were much appreciated; sorry if I haven’t always replied. The Clarithromycin seems to be kicking in and I'm better enough to post. I think at least two other people on my Flist are taking the same thing? This is the unhealthiest autumn for a long time. Anyway, Wolf Hall and much ( light reading on the sofa )

Just heard this news on the radio. I've known that voice all my life.

This deer has been having a nice little lie down in my garden for ages. I simply can't get the zoom function on my camera to take a photo that's in focus, so this is a distance shot from the window. I took much better deer pictures with the old camera!


No posts lately because I'm ill.

Thanks to Susie Vereker, I’ve just read this list of the 50 Most Annoying Things About the Internet. I’m sure people could add to it. Now for a good thing about the internet: reading people’s book recommendations. Not necessarily the latest books, but older, perhaps out of print books which the writer loves.

Radio 4’s A Good Read has been doing this for years; guests introduce a book they’ve enjoyed to be chatted about. Now Open Book
is catching up, with two weeks on Neglected Classics, all recommended by established writers.

The List

William Boyd
The Polyglots by William Gerhardie
Susan Hill
The Rector's Daughter by F M Mayor
Hari Kunzru
A Hero of Our Time by Mikhail Lermontov
Ruth Rendell
Many Dimensions by Charles Williams
Colm Toibin
Esther Waters by George Moore
Programme Two: Sunday 25 October
Beryl Bainbridge
The Quest for Corvo by A J A Symons
Howard Jacobson
Rasselas by Samuel Johnson
Val McDermid
Carol by Patricia Highsmith
Michael Morpurgo
The Snow Goose by Paul Gallico
Joanna Trollope
Miss Mackenzie by Anthony Trollope

I’ve read Rasselas, The Snow Goose and A Hero of Our Time. Oh ho, I’ve just spotted a copy of Esther Waters on the landing. I should follow Susan Hill’s excellent example and read it.

No, not Shakespeare: Trisha Ashley.



I picked this up at the library, knowing nothing about it, because it’s yet another book about an old house. Sophy Winter has spent years working for other people in historic houses when she inherits one of her own. There’s a classic chick lit set up when she gets there: attractive but horrible man and man she takes a dislike to but the reader knows is right for her. I liked all the detail in this book about the house, the furnishings and how they are restored plus a lot of information about reconstructing an historic garden.

This book is recommended for people who like Katie Fforde. I've enjoyed several of KF's books but her crown may be slipping. A Winter's Tale is much better than Stately Pursuits because of all the detail I've mentioned. This may be chick lit but it's very intelligently written (that's not meant to be as patronising as it sounds). I liked the way that all the elements are there for gothic horror; a ghost, a challenge to the inheritance, rivals in love but Sophy's common sense prevails in the manner of Georgette Heyer's stronger-minded heroines.

I should write in very small letters that I much preferred it to The Little Stranger; I'm going right off literary fiction in favour of the well written, unpretentiously enjoyable. Having said that, I've just picked up my library-ordered copy of this



I'm the very first person to read it! We'll see how I get on with 650 (gulp) pages. I was pleased to spot another Dandy Gilver Murder Mystery while I was there. Less pleased that it was on one of those awful carousels instead of in the crime fiction section where I'd been looking for it. And Howards End is on the Landing is not in their system yet but I'll be first when it is. Ha ha!

I've just completed the BBC Trust questionnaire about BBC One, Two and Four. It took me a while to find it so I'm helpfully providing the link: it's here.

It's not one word answers but plenty of space to say what you like, so only bother if you have time. Hmm. This discriminates against semi-literate, inarticulate people without internet access. That must be against their rules.

Sorry, sorry; I promise not to use this icon again until Advent but what can you do when Bob Dylan has released a Christmas album? Only out yesterday and it's on You Tube already.



Try it, if you want to punish your eardrums (I'm a fan!). This clip contains possibly the worst version of Oh Little Town of Bethlehem I've ever heard. I can't see this album replacing the Phil Spector Christmas Album



or my favourite, We Three Kings by The Roches. All royalties from Christmas in the Heart are going to charities. Rather than buy it, I'll just be giving money straight to the Salvation Army as usual.

So, apart from *real* Christmas music (The Messiah, carols), what gets you Christmassy? Bing Crosby singing White Christmas? We're Walking In The Air from The Snowman? Or possibly, Silent Night by the Dickies.

I keep making them.



The pattern is here

I switched on Steve Wright while I was ironing this afternoon. The Golden Oldies (always picked by a listener, folks), were very different from usual; quite like the old Light Programme. They included this (sigh) from High Society.



Isn't that lovely? They'll be playing Doris Day, next.
I prefer The Philadelphia Story really. Although I always want to smack Katharine Hepburn, it does have Cary Grant and James Stewart. Oh the glamour.

Kingsley Amis always denied that his novels were autobiographical. It was always obvious to the general reader, namely myself, that this wasn’t true. David Bradford has written a biography, Lucky Him based entirely on the novels, arguing that Amis put aspects of himself into his main characters, often very unflattering portraits. His marriages, affairs and relationships are, according to Professor Bradford, all trackable through the novels. I accept this thesis with some reservations. Easy to make out a case for seeing Jean Lewis (That Uncertain Feeling), Barbara Bowen (I Like it Here) and Jenny Bunn (Take a Girl Like You) as versions of Hilly, Amis’s first wife and last love. Trickier, I think, to argue that The Riverside Villas Murder is really a dialogue between Amis and his father.
( Lucky Jim and more )