George Eliot on a tear about bad female novelists..."they write in elegant boudoirs, with violet-coloured ink, and a ruby pen"...Wonderfully snide commentary. Really, it's all about Mary Sue.
I very nearly spewed out my tea while reading, so do take care.
[ Just an ordinary review; not for any challenge]
Title: The Making of a Marchioness
Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett
Copyright: 1901 (this work is in the public domain); I read the Persephone Books edition of the text, ISBN: 978-1-903155-14-1.
Length: 297 pages
Genre: Fiction
Summary: The Making of a Marchioness features Emily Fox-Seton, about whom I wrote in March here. The important thing to remember about Emily is that she is not clever; indeed a truly unkind soul might suggest that, for a woman of thirty-four, she's really not the sharpest knife in the drawer. She's somewhat unworldly, but very willing, very accommodating and very kind. Those of better birth and means, such as Lady Maria Bayne, depend on Emily to do for them those mundane boring tasks (writing notes, running errands, hiring of staff, etc.) that they don't choose to do for themselves. Consequently, Emily is invited to Lady Maria's country house, Mallowe Court, to manage the handling of her house party. Among the guests is the eligible Lord Walderhurst and three females (charming and otherwise) who spend time angling for his attention. There are two love stories that emerge in the first part of this novel and it is comforting to know that Frances Hodgson Burnett is skilled enough to bring both sets of lovers together without boring us with the obvious.
It is the second and longer segment of the novel, published originally as The Methods of Lady Walderhurst, that is somewhat more sensationalistic. Emily is placed in mortal danger and the question is whether her great love will return to her in time to ensure her safety and complete recovery. Burnett provides glimpses into two marriages (not the same two couples as presented in the first part of the book) and contrasts the spousal behaviors and attitudes.
I tend to characterize books like this as charming; you can trust the author's intent and narrative as completely as your own mother's cooking. There's a reassuring coziness to the novel. The modicum of suspense is just enough to make it interesting but it's a text ideal to read just before bedtime.
Also Relevant: The virtue of the Persephone edition is the inclusion of both a preface by Isabel Raphael and an Afterword by Burnett biographer Gretchen Gerzina. The bits of biography supplied indicate that Burnett wrote to support herself and her sons in the wake of two unhappy marriages. She was wildly popular as a storyteller in her lifetime, her works read by statesmen as well as the general public.
It's the very gentleness of the narrative that I find endearing, but the note on which the novel closes is actually quite harsh for the time period. Murder has been committed, but the nature of the crime is hidden until the final paragraphs. At the same time, during the second segment of the novel, the women we've come to know each move center stage so that we see the strength and depth of Hester, Emily, Jane, Ameerah.
I thoroughly enjoyed re-reading this and was able to completely identify when Emily resorts to coping with stress by reading the Book of Common Prayer, while sitting at the sunny desk in her library as the church bells in Berkeley Square ring out. It's just so indicative of a belief in an ordered universe. That belief, I think, is a big part of the book's charm for me.
Note: The Persephone edition is lovely. (I really wish the exchange rate was better...)
[ just an ordinary review ]
Title: An Infinity of Little Hours: Five Young Men and their Trial of Faith
Author: Nancy Klein Maguire (see author's web site; her bio)
Copyright: 2006; Published in the U.S. by Public Affairs (tm), a member of the Perseus Books Group.
Length: 264 pages, including a number of appendices
Genre: Non-fiction
Summary: A surprisingly intimate look at the formation process during the early 1960's of five young men who arrive at St. Hugh's Charterhouse in Parkminister (UK) to try to pursue their respective vocations as Carthusian monks. Because the author is married to one of the five individuals in the book, she sought and was granted access (to an unprecedented level) to both current and former members of the order.
The Carthusian Order retains a monastic tradition that has not changed in 900 years, one oriented entirely to the fostering of a unity between a single human soul and the Deity. The two most important buildings in a Carthusian enclosure are the Church itself and the library; the monk spends most of his time in his own cell alone [see this photographic tour of a monk's cell]. The intellectual stimulation of study is one of the attractions of the contemplative life. The monks' daily practices are particularly austere, reflecting those known in 1084 when the order was founded. The eremetical, contemplative life depends on strict solitude, prayer, and silence (aside from the scheduled gathering of the community to say the Divine Office). We follow Paddy, Hans, Chuck, Dave and Bernie through a transformation of their personalities and mental processes; the extreme nature of this particular monastic tradition requires such a complete conversion of life that most modern Christians would challenge the theological and the psychological foundation. Can such isolation and denial possibly be the best way to find God? The book is testimony that it may be the best path for some individuals, certainly not for all.
The writing and the flow of the text are marvellous. Maguire devotes an entire chapter (Chapter 11) to the tension created by some percentage of the community who are casual in their singing of the solemn Night Office and Midnight Mass of Christmas. For two of the monks, musical by training and/or talent, this is a significant challenge to holiness and Maguire conveys their frustration and agony. She describes a battle of sorts between those monks struggling to maintain the correct pacing and pitch of the Chant and those for whom the importance of the Office resides in articulating the words rather than the perfection of the sound. While I recognize that for some readers that the inclusion of such a chapter may sound incredibly dull, I thought Maguire pulled it off. The chapter accurately reflects the magnification of small irritations that strict enclosure would naturally tend to fuel.
Also Relevant: I confess to a fascination with the monastic life. On some level, it appeals to me, although whether that is due to a true desire for God or simply for personal calm in a chaotic society may be up for discussion. Having said that, I am quite sure that the Carthusian Order would never have been compatible with my mental, emotional or spiritual constructs. Such an introspective exploration of human spirituality as described in Infinity of Little Hours is both intellectually and physically challenging for even the healthiest soul.
A brief extract from the narrative at the point of one novice contemplating the final solemn profession of vows: ...he knew how difficult it was to get up in the middle of every night, he knew how hard it was to fast on dry bread and water on the coldest winter days. Above all, he knew the hardness of a life that never changed, that would never change, when every day looked like every other day. (pg. 214)
Another quote: The noonday demon tormented Dom Philip with the unchanging routine to which he was committed--today, tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow: to bed at 7:00 pm, up at 11:00 pm to pray, then to church for night office, back to pray, to bed again around 2:30 am, up again at 6:00 am for Prime, then to church for the conventual and private Masses, then back to the cell for Sext and reading, dinner at 11:00 am, manual labor and reading, back to church at 2:45 pm for Vespers, back to the cell for Compline and then to bed at 7:00 pm.
Why would someone embrace this rigorous marathon? Unless you have the psychological strength as well as the depth of faith to believe that this is an effective means for achieving closeness with a living God, you must surely question, even condemn, the process. And yet the men who Maguire follows in the book, even those who fail in the attempt to pursue it for a lifetime, value the time spent in the enclosure. This is a thoughtful exploration of how *some* few human beings pursue union with their God, neither dismissive nor bitter in tone. I loved it.
Update: Sylvia over at Classical Bookworm has also reviewed this book.
My husband woke first to see that we were some 30 minutes late this morning and was immediately disturbed by this appalling disruption of routine; I reassured him I could catch the 8:09 train into work without it being an issue so he wouldn't race around and thereby further disrupt the routine. (Puh-leeze, dear, just bring the coffee and stop bellowing. Snooze.)
But, oh, if I'm going to have to wake up on a Monday morning, how I want this clock! The exchange rate, be damned!
(First seen at Mental Multivitamin)
1. Idylls of the King - Because I love Arthurian myth and because I really don't read enough poetry.
2. The Water Room - Because Didi's book group meets in ten days and I had intended to take this with me on the plane to Arizona (but didn't).
3. An Infinity of Little Hours - Because books about monastic practice and deeply held faith fascinate me; for the record, this is both riveting and readable. Right at the moment, it has my full attention.
4. Ex Libris - because I have to talk about it at the end of the month at the township library. Of course, my husband moved my paperback copy from the dining room to somewhere in the living room and now I have to actually *find* it.
I had thought to participate in the "Once Upon a Time" challenge proposed by Carl, but I seem to be drawn elsewhere at the moment.
[ just a review -- not for any challenge ]
Title: Lion's Honey
Author: David Grossman
Copyright: 2005 for the original publication in Hebrew, 2006 for the English translation, published by Canongate U.S., ISBN:1-841-95742-9
Length: 176 pages (including notes and bibliography)
Genre: Essay
Summary: Grossman allows us to participate in his thinking out loud about the myth of Samson, "Samson the Hero" as children in Israel are taught. The hero is one most widely known for his strength which is taken away from him by the wickedly seductive Delilah. Samson foolishly entrusts Delilah with the knowledge that his strength is tied to his unshorn hair and she betrays that trust by shaving his head while he sleeps. She then turns him over to the Philistines when he has no capacity to resist capture. The weakened Samson is taken and chained but, even after the hideous, physical abuse by his captors, he triumphs by pulling down the pillars of the building in which he is imprisoned -- killing himself and many Philistines in the process.
Grossman doesn't shrink from the essential barbarity of Samson's story, additional elements of which do not appear in the preceding paragraph (see Judges 13-16 for the full narrative). Samson is destined to be a hero to his people, but the loneliness presented by Grossman as a key aspect of this hero represents his vulnerability. Samson is different, set apart from birth by the singular fashion in which his mother learns of his ultimate destiny and the instructions given for his fostering. Grossman focuses on Samson's inner sense of "other-ness" on the grounds of his uncanny strength and his moments of poetic expression. Samson's frustration and unhappiness fuel his actions and there is no alternate ending to the way those play out, given the nature of his emotional pain.
Grossman sees the myth of Samson as reflective of his country's policies. A noted peace activist in Israel, Grossman's modern rendering of this myth takes into account both the individual and the corporate experience of those perpetually at odds with the world surrounding them. You can get a glimpse of his current views on the Israeli conflict based on his comments at the memorial for Yitzhak Rabin last year.
Also relevant: You can read this as a parable of the creative temperament at odds with social norms. It is possible to read it as well in the vein of a political statement. Grossman fleshes out the tale with a certain realism and understanding. His thought processes work through the brusque biblical narrative in the same way that a man with a flashlight might work his way along a narrow and dark hallway, stepping rather than striding. It's still a fast read; I finished the book in a single sitting.
Grossman presents a sympathetic portrait of a frustrated, sensitive personality trapped by internal and external conflicting forces. Somehow it works.
The Sonoran Desert, specifically at the Camelback Inn. This photo was taken by Mark Goldstein of International Research Edge at the Buying & Selling E-Content event. The collection of photos he took is on Flickr (search on the tag BSEC07) and I'm in there somewhere.
When I wasn't in sessions, I was out in the sun, like a lizard baking on a hot rock. The flowers were wonderful, the staff was incredible, and I wish the conference had been another five days in length...
Wonderful experience!
[just an ordinary review; not for any challenge]
Title: The Shuttle
Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett
Copyright: 1907 (this work is in the public domain); I read from an older edition published by Grosset & Dunlap. A full text version is available from Project Gutenberg, but a print edition is being launched by Persephone Books in the UK in April 2007.
Genre: Fiction/Romance
Length: 512 pages
Summary: Following her marriage to Nigel Anstruthers and the subsequent relocation to his estate in England, the naively sweet and loving Rosalie Vanderpoel, now Lady Anstruthers, gradually loses touch with her family. After some twelve years of increasing silence and detachment, her younger sister, Betty Vanderpoel travels to England to learn the reason. Betty, operating from a fine sense of practicality and confidence, is shocked by the changes in her sister when she arrives at Stornham Court. The Shuttle centers around the actions that Betty takes to restore her sister to herself and set things right. There is a meeting with a neighboring nobleman, Mount Dunstan, who lacks money to restore his own estate but whose pride prevents him from sinking to the behaviors of Nigel Anstruthers' ilk. Ultimately, of course, we see Betty and Mount Dunstan fall in love but the romance is not the paramount story here. Burnett was making a point about the marital alliances between American heiresses and the British titled aristocracy. A theme of restoration runs throughout the novel, based on the respective strengths of each country and culture and it makes for a most satisfying read.
Burnett's writing style is certainly in keeping with the style of her time. This is from a period where it was understood that one had the leisure to properly immerse oneself in the written word. The excerpt below is taken from Mount Dunstan's view of the gap between the two cultures; he is seated in something approximating the "cheap seats" when he catches sight of Betty in one of the expensive boxes above him. This is how Burnett reveals her theme.
Extract: The necessity of seeing his solicitors, who happened to be Messrs. Townlinson & Sheppard, had brought Lord Mount Dunstan to town. After a day devoted to business affairs, he had been attracted by the idea of going to the theatre to see again a play he had already seen in New York. It would interest him to observe its exact effect upon a London audience. While he had been in New York, he had gone with something of the same feeling to see a great English actor play to a crowded house. The great actor had been one who had returned to the country for a third or fourth time, and, in the enthusiasm he had felt in the atmosphere about him, Mount Dunstan had seen not only pleasure and appreciation of the man's perfect art, but - at certain tumultuous outbursts - an almost emotional welcome. The Americans, he had said to himself, were creatures of warmer blood than the English. The audience on that occasion had been, in mass, American. The audience he made one of now, was made up of both nationalities, and, in glancing over it, he realised how large was the number of Americans who came yearly to London. As Lady Anstruthers had done, he found himself selecting from the assemblage the types which were manifestly American, and those obviously English. In the seat next to himself sat a man of a type he felt he had learned by heart in the days of his life as Jem Salter. At a short distance fluttered brilliantly an English professional beauty, with her male and female court about her. In the stage box, made sumptuous with flowers, was a royal party.
As this party had entered, "God save the Queen" had been played, and, in rising with the audience during the entry, he had recalled that the tune was identical with that of an American national air. How unconsciously inseparable - in spite of the lightness with which they regarded the curious tie between them - the two countries were. The people upon the stage were acting as if they knew their public, their bearing suggesting no sense of any barrier beyond the footlights. It was the unconsciousness and lightness of the mutual attitude which had struck him of late. Punch had long jested about "Fair Americans," who, in their first introduction to its pages, used exotic and cryptic language, beginning every sentence either with "I guess," or "Say, Stranger"; its male American had been of the Uncle Sam order and had invariably worn a "goatee." American witticisms had represented the Englishman in plaid trousers, opening his remarks with "Chawley, deah fellah," and unfailingly missing the point of any joke. Each country had cherished its type and good-naturedly derided it. In time this had modified itself and the joke had changed in kind. Many other things had changed, but the lightness of treatment still remained. And yet their blood was mingling itself with that of England's noblest and oldest of name, their wealth was making solid again towers and halls which had threatened to crumble. Ancient family jewels glittered on slender, young American necks, and above - sometimes somewhat careless - young American brows. And yet, so far, one was casual in one's thought of it all, still. On his own part he was obstinate Briton enough to rebel against and resent it. They were intruders. He resented them as he had resented in his boyhood the historical fact that, after all, an Englishman was a German - a savage who, five hundred years after the birth of Christ, had swooped upon Early Briton from his Engleland and Jutland, and ravaging with fire and sword, had conquered and made the land his possession, ravishing its very name from it and giving it his own. These people did not come with fire and sword, but with cable and telephone, and bribes of gold and fair women, but they were encroaching like the sea, which, in certain parts of the coast, gained a few inches or so each year.
Also Relevant: There are many reasons why Persephone may see the value in bringing this novel back to the attention of the modern public. There is the story of the abused wife, the culture gap with its tensions, there is a remarkably self-sufficient heroine who "gets things done" effectively as well as graciously. Burnett was in fact a successful writer for adults as well as for children and Persephone's list is largely oriented to the work of women writers whose works are neglected or in danger of being marginalized. How better to marginalize a woman writer than by dismissing her as a writer for children, a field that may be casually perceived as being of lesser status than adult fiction? One might legitimately raise the complaint that Betty is a little too perfect to be borne with; a flaw to her overall make-up might have been welcome. But by and large, this book entertains as well as makes a point. Readers of today may find it to be as worthwhile now as when it was initially published one hundred years ago.
Elaine of Random Jottings had this to say about The Shuttle earlier this month.
As I indicated below, blogging will be light this next week to ten days *but* I don't want to leave you without sharing the following tidbits of information:
Just a quick note for those of you who are kind enough to check up on my postings, I have been swamped with work concerns (including arrangements for an unforeseen business trip). I've read little of significant interest to post on and what I've enjoyed, I've not had time to write up. Blogging will be light for the next week to ten days.
In the words of Monty Python's Holy Grail, "I'm not dead yet."
